Some nouns from George:
- spring
- dishes
- grass
- November
- bicycle
- pizza
- bridge
- animal
- book
- bread
Never thought I'd hear myself say it, but Eleanor's main problem is that she's a winner. That's how she got into this mess in the first place.
She was nobody. Some anonymous good looking lady who showed up at the bridge club a couple of times, apparently. I first noticed her at the regional in November, one of those pizza-and-beer things for the novice players where they invite a couple of experts and have a nice little Q&A about such exciting topics as "What to do when they've called the director on you" and "Double, Double, What's the Trouble?" I think I was the free lesson or something, you know some ten or fifteen minute thing on takeout doubles or weak two's. Well, there was Eleanor all eager and listening while she took notes in brown leather journal with a fountain pen. She was so cute, you know, this pretty little thing all designer'ed up and wanting to learn and all that. What the hell, I thought, gave her my card.
And wouldn't you know it but she called me right up. Like, thank you very much Anna, you'll be hearing from me; I head to the ladies room to pee and there's my phone ringing and it's her! "Anna, Eleanor Scout. Listen, I looked at your card and it says 'private lessons,' right there on the card. Are you taking on new students?"
Well, what could I say? "Of course! Love to talk with you about it. LIsten, I'm in the john, how about we meet in the bar after the game and talk for a little bit?"
There you have it. All my fault. I was playing the Tuesday/Wednesday knockouts with a client of Miguel's. The team was Miguel and his client, Wallace and Ferrigno, me and Crain. It was a little strange, sure. Only a little. Well, okay, not so little. I'd been sleeping with Miguel for a few tournaments (including that one). Must have been Wednesday, our opponents gave us a W/D after sixteen boards so we were celebrating with the client in the bar when Eleanor joined us.
"Anna, hi," she said, walking right into the middle of the viper's pit. "Did you still want to have that drink, or ...?" She glanced at the group of men and gave a vague wave, like "or, are you tied up and later's better?"
Miguel was driving me nuts, telling the client that I'd misjudged some stuff or we'd have won by more. He's such a snake, Miguel. Never a kind word for anybody else. He made it sound, I dunno, like he was paying Crain to play wiht me. So when the cute lady from the lecture turned up I was
thrilled to get away. "Now's perfect, honey! I thought you'd forgotten about me," I lied.
Whatshername grinned at me and we went and sat in a booth a few tables away. "Thanks," I told her with my friendly smile, "so glad to get away from all that for a minute."
"Sure. Do you know those guys?"
"'Fraid so," I nodded. "Teammates. One sort-of boyfriend."
"The small guy?"
"How'd you guess?"
"He hasn't stopped looking over here since we sat down."
Which was weird. I shrugged. "Who knows. So, how'd you do today?" I asked, figuring it was time to get down to business. I've done a gazillion of these conversations, they all follow a basic pattern. Client tells me how great he is, how he just needs a couple of pointers and a really good, trusting partner. Usually they want to give me a couple of hands showing their brilliance in the context of partner's fuckup. I have a general rule -- I'll listen to two hands for free. Anything mor and you better be prepared to pay me. Especially guys, who're just staring at my chest anyway.
But Eleanor surprised me on the go. "I suck at bridge," she said, cheerfully I thought, considering what she actually said, "and I'd like to get better. What do you recommend?"
This was new. Usually they say they've heard such nice things about me, that I'm a really good partner for novices who might be nervous, that they've aalways wanted to spend hours on end staring at a pretty girl and not get smacked. Nobody ever says it straight like that. What did I recommend? Man, I didn't really have an answer. Maybe she was expecting a sales pitch. I figured I could either win it in the bidding -- thrill her with an answer she doesn't expect -- or in the play -- talk her into hiring me, and then make her glad she did.
"Hard to say," I hedged, opting instead to go low. "Since I haven't seen you play. Tell me a little about yourself and let's see what we can figure out," I motioned to the bartender with a wink and a smile. We ordered gin and tonics.
God, you know, it's so hard. She was the coolest, sitting there all calm and cheerful, no idea what she'd walked into. The kind of woman you'd want to be friends with. Away from bridge.
"A little about myself," she started, "from a bridge perspective."
"Or not," I interrupted, truthfully hoping something would happen to jog my memory. You know I've never been good with names, right? So I'm sitting there drinking gin & tonic with a woman whose name I can't remember, trying to decide if it's going to work out for her to hire me, when Miguel decided to walk over and join us.
More in the morning...
Standard disclaimer: I may fail. I know that.
