Thunk! The axe head bounced off the wooden target and clattered noisily onto the metal floor below. "C'mon!" shouted Pete, face flush with a cocktail of alcohol and plain ol' physical exertion, "I swear these axes are made of rubber!"
Asher's friend lifted another axe, chucking it with all his might. The axe didn't even make it halfway to the target, the head slamming into the ground, maybe fifteen feet away from its desired destination. "Perhaps the problem isn't the tool but your current alcohol intake," teased Asher as he sipped his tea.
When most people think of a night's guy out, their minds usually wander to a crowded bar, their sport of choice blaring from a TV in the background. Technically, Asher and Pete were spending their evening at a bar, but besides serving alcoholic beverages, this establishment also let you throw sharp metal axes for fun. Asher wasn't sure if this type of beer-guzzling, axe-chucking establishment had an official title, but regardless, nothing made Asher feel like more of a man than throwing sharp metal objects and defacing property.
"I'd like to see you do better, Ash," snapped Pete in response to his friend's jab, his words slightly slurred as he stumbled back over to their table. Asher smirked, stood up, and grabbed one of the small metal axes, aiming it at the target some thirty feet away. A quick mental calculation, a powerful but controlled flick of the wrist, and…thunk! Bullseye.
Pete stared from Asher to the target, looking thoroughly annoyed. "How do you always do that?" He grumbled, reaching for a pretzel from their plate of snacks and practically inhaling it.
"Well, for one thing," replied Asher, walking back to their table and lifting his sweet tea for another sip. "I don't start on the alcohol until after the games have been won."
"You boys want somethin' else to eat?" A beautiful young waitress, no older than 25, sauntered into the room, staring at Asher and Pete's plate of mostly demolished pretzels and chips.
Both men immediately perked up at the sight of the pretty waitress. "I'll have some more pretzels," replied Pete, quickly trying to style his sweaty hair. "And Ash over here loves fried pickles."
Asher scrunched up his nose at his friend. He hated fried pickles, and Pete knew it. Sore loser.
"Pretzels and pickles comin' right up," replied the woman with a flirty wink before sauntering back towards the bar's kitchen.
"Wow," exclaimed Pete as he watched her go, "She's somethin', ain't she?"
"It's rude to stare at a woman, Peter," scolded Asher as he secretly watched her out of the corner of his eye.
"I gotta find me a girl like that," mumbled Pete, draining the last of his alcohol and wiping his mouth on his shirt sleeve. "What's your secret, Ash?"
"Secret?" Queried Asher as he grabbed another axe and tossed it at the target. Thunk! Another bullseye.
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"With the ladies!" Exclaimed Pete angrily, pointing in the direction of the waitress. "The wait staff flirts with you every time we come here, and that ain't fair 'cause you're already a married man. Pete's on the market, too, y'know!"
Asher beamed at the compliment. He'd noticed the flirty wink, too, and he felt no greater joy in life than having a younger woman find him attractive. It made him feel young as well, more alive. He'd never cheat on Sarah, of course (Gramma Ethel was always watching), but to increase the chances of being flirted with, Asher would usually stow his wedding ring whenever he went into town. The results spoke for themselves.
"A woman is like a beautiful flower," replied Asher in response to Pete's question, slipping on the mask of a chivalrous gentleman and repeating the lines he knew any woman would want to hear, "you need to love, cherish, and care for them, and that's when their affection for you will start to bloom."
Pete stared at him silently for several seconds, his mouth slightly agape. "So you're saying I should get into gardening?" he finally asked.
"I think you've had enough to drink for the night." Laughed Asher, motioning to his friend's inebriated state; you can't handle your alcohol like you used to." Asher frowned as the words left his mouth. He and Pete had been best friends all through High School; they were the same age, and by insinuating that Pete was getting old, what did that mean about Asher? Asher suddenly felt very sour; maybe he should go back to the bar and order something to drink, something with some alcohol in it.
Pete grumbled at Asher's remark but didn't argue. "Can you believe it's been almost fifteen years since we graduated high school?" Pete asked, his mind clearly wandering to the past as well. "I can't complain too much 'bout the life I've got, but sometimes I get nostalgic for the good ol' days, don't you?"
Asher nodded, picking up another axe. Thunk! Bullseye. He was quickly running out of space in the center of the target. "The reunion's coming up." Continued Pete, "Are you and Sarah planning on attending? It would be nice for the three of us to catch up with old friends."
Thunk! There was the word again, old. "I think the missus and I are busy that night. Apologies." High School had been filled with scores of beautiful women, all ripe for the picking, and like Pete, Asher had fond memories of his time in School. But that had been years and wrinkles ago. Asher had no interest in having the memories of those beauties marred by the age of time. Those full-figured teenage girls Asher had once pined over would all be Sarah's age now, if not a little older. Many of them probably had their own families now and stretch marks. Asher shuddered.
The pitter-patter of a woman's gait caught Asher's attention as the waitress returned to their table carrying a tray of steaming food. Asher's heart beat a little bit faster at the sight. Few things were more attractive than a woman with food.
"Food's here," the waitress called, setting the snacks down at their table. Is there anything else I can get for you, men?" she asked with a smile, hands resting on her ample hips.
"A-actually," stammered Pete, cheeks turning even rosier as he smoothed out some invisible wrinkles from his outfit. "I don't know when you get off work, but I'd love to buy you a drink or something–"
"Oh, that reminds me!" exclaimed the waitress, pulling out a notepad and quickly scribbling on it. "It's my goal always to provide the best service possible, so let me know if there's anything else I can do for you." The waitress tore a page from the pad and handed it to Asher. A glance revealed her phone number was written across it. "I get off at ten," the waitress whispered, shooting another flirty wink at Asher before leaving.
"Ugh." moaned Pete, stuffing his mouth with fresh pretzels and watching sullenly as the waitress walked off. "You think I could be the rebound if you tell her you're already married?"
"We can give it a shot," replied Asher, turning away from Pete and lifting the waitress's note to his nose as he took a big sniff. He could smell the woman's perfume, something fruity, like watermelon or tangerine. It was simply intoxicating. Asher broke into a huge grin. Gosh, it was too bad he was faithfully married.