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Nicole had never seen anything like it. She didn’t know why she was hesitating; hell, practically hiding. Typically, when she saw something, or someone, she liked, she didn’t hesitate. Didn’t wait. But this felt…different. Bigger, somehow. Leaning against the far wall by the pool tables, half-way in shadow, her amber gaze watched the barkeep slide effortlessly from patron to patron; filling orders, taking cash, making change like some sort of perfectly choreographed dance. Nicole was entranced. But even more than the hustle and flow, Nicole was captivated by the smile. It was beaming and joyful. Generous and kind. And it lit up the entire bar like a ray of sunshine.
“Please, never stop smiling,” Nicole whispered to herself.
She kept waiting for the opportunity to step out of the shadows and up to the bar. A moment of calm where their encounter wouldn’t be rushed. But the bar was rowdy tonight, and more customers seemed to be coming in as each minute passed.
Nicole should be using this time to get acquainted with the locals of this new town she was calling home, but she only had eyes for one, unattainable, brunette.
“You want another beer, hon?” came a sharp, female, voice startling Nicole from her hypnotic state. She looked down and saw an older lady with short, curly, greying hair and a beak-ish nose dressed in a red western-style button up and jeans peering back at her in bemusement.
“Oh, no, thank you,” answered Nicole after she’d caught her breath and settled her spinning mind. She turned her eyes back to their original subject.
The older woman looked in the direction of the bar and then back at Nicole with a smirk on her face. “Well,” she said, “if you change your mind, you can always head up to the bar. Waverly will take care of you.”
“Waverly?” Nicole echoed, her voice holding the name in a place of wonder.
“Mm-hm,” nodded the woman knowingly, “Waverly Earp. Pride of Purgatory.”
Nicole’s eyes softened to a glow. Waverly Earp, she thought to herself, repeating the name over and over like a summoning chant. Waverly Earp.
Not waiting for a response, the older woman moved on to the next patron seeking a refill, shaking her head slightly as she went.
“Waverly Earp,” Nicole said softly, “I think I really need to meet you.”