Just Listen

"Fighting brings people together," Rolly said. "In fact, a lot of the women who take my classes come up and hug me afterwards. People co

"But only once," Owen added, "that really mattered."

Rolly sighed. "True," he said. "Very true."

"Meaning what?" I asked.

"Rolly's in love with a girl who punched him in the face," Owen explained.

"Not the face," Rolly corrected him. "The neck."

"Apparently," Owen told me, "she has a mad right hook."

"It was impressive," Rolly agreed. "It was at this expo I worked, at the mall? We had a table, you know, and people could enter a drawing for a free class, and take a hit at me, for fun."

Owen put on his turn signal, shaking his head.

"Anyway," Rolly continued, "she comes up with some friends, and Delores—that's my boss—starts her spiel about the classes and invites them to hit me. Her friends won't do it, but she steps right up. Looks me in the eye. And wham! Right in the collarbone."

"You had your pads on, though, right?" I said.

"Of course!" he said. "I'm a professional. But still, even through the pads, you can tell when someone packs a wallop. And this girl did. Plus, she was gorgeous. Lethal combination. But before I can even say anything, she just smiles at me, says thanks, and walks away. Gone. Just like that. I never even got her name."

We were merging onto the highway now, picking up speed. "Wow," I said. "That is quite a story."

"Yeah," he said, nodding, his expression solemn. He put his hands on top of the helmet in his lap, folding them carefully. "I know."

Owen rolled down his window, letting some air in. Then he took in a deep breath. "Oh, yeah," he said. "We're almost there."

I turned around; all I could see was highway. "Where?"

"Two words," Owen said. "Double bacon."

Five minutes later, we were pulling into the parking lot of the World of Waffles, a twenty-four-hour breakfast place right off the interstate. So they like breakfast, I thought. Then the breeze shifted, and suddenly I smelled it: bacon. The scent was pungent, heavy, and inescapable.

"Oh my God," I said as we headed inside. Owen and Rolly were taking deep, full breaths on either side of me. "That is—"

"Great, I know," Owen said. "It didn't used to be like this. I mean, they had bacon, but not at this level. But then this new place opened up on the other side of the highway—"

"The Morning Cafe," Rolly said, wrinkling his nose. "So subpar. Famously soggy pancakes."

"—and they had to get competitive. So now, every day is Double Bacon Day." He stepped up, pulling the door open for me. "Great, right?"

I nodded, then stepped inside. The first thing I noticed was that the smell was stronger, if that was even possible. The second was that the room, which was small and crammed with tables and booths, was freezing.

"Oh," Owen said once he glanced over and saw I had my arms wrapped around myself. "Forgot to warn you about the cold thing. Here." He shrugged off the jacket he was wearing, handing it to me. I started to protest, but he said, "They keep it cold so people don't stay too long. Believe me, if you're chilly now, you'll be frozen in ten minutes. Take it."

I did, then slipped it on. Of course it was huge on me, the cuffs completely covering my hands. I pulled it tighter around me as we followed a tall, slim waitress whose name tag said DEANN to a booth by the window. Behind us, a woman was quietly nursing a baby, her head ducked down. On our other side, there was a couple about our age eating waffles, both in ru

"I recommend the chocolate-chip pancakes," Rolly told me after Dea

"Ugh," Owen said. "I keep it basic: eggs, bacon, biscuit. Done."

Pork seemed to be required, so when Dea

"So you guys do this every week," I said, taking a sip of my water.

"Yeah." Owen nodded. "Since the first show. It's a tradition. And Rolly always pays."

"That's not tradition," Rolly said. "It's because I lost a bet."

"How long do you have to pay?"

"Forever," Rolly told me. "I had my chance, and I blew it. And now I pay. Literally."

"It's not really forever," Owen said now, tapping his spoon against his water glass. "Just until you talk to her."

"And when is that going to happen?" Rolly asked.

"The next time you see her."

"Yeah," he said glumly. "The next time."

I looked at Owen. "The girl with the hook," he explained. "In July, we saw her out at a club. First time we ever saw her anywhere. And Rolly'd been talking about her nonstop since she clocked him—"

Rolly flushed. "Not nonstop.'"

"—and here's his chance," Owen finished. "But he can't act."

"The thing is," Rolly said, "I'm a big believer in the perfect moment. They don't come around that often."

This deep thought was punctuated—or interrupted, depending on how you looked at it—by Dea

"So there I am," Rolly said, begi

Beside me, Owen had already popped a piece of bacon in his mouth and was chewing it while peppering his eggs.

"The thing is," Rolly said, "it's a big deal when you finally get the chance to do the one thing you want to do—need to do—more than anything. It can kind of scare the crap out of you."

He pushed the syrup over to me, and I picked it up, putting some on my waffle. "I bet," I said.

"Which is why," Owen said, "I said that if he picked up the sweater and talked to her, I'd pay for breakfast forever. And if he didn't do it, he had to foot the bill."

Rolly took another bite of his pancakes. "I actually got up and started over there. But then she turned around, and I—"

"Choked," Owen said.

"Panicked. She saw me, and I got all flustered, and I kept walking. Now I have to pay for breakfast for eternity. Or, until I actually make good on the bet, which is unlikely because I haven't seen her since."

"Wow," I said. "That's quite a story."

He nodded somberly, just as he had earlier in the car. "Yeah," he said. "I know."

By the time we left an hour later, all the bacon was gone and I was so full I thought I would bust. Back in the car I reached for my seat belt, pulling it across me, then stopped just short of the buckle as Owen slid it in for me, then grabbed the hammer again. His hands were right at my waist as he tapped its center, his head ducked down by my shoulder. I looked at his dark hair, the sprinkle of freckles by his ear, those long lashes, but then he was already done, pulling away.