A response to Suzanne Young's "Friday Funkday" in Flashy Fiction:
"Anywhere?" I asked again. "You're sure about that?"
"I swear, if you go out with me, I'll take you anywhere."
I had written him off after the first glance but now I turned to scrutinize him. He wore a sports jacket that bulged out at the chest over a striped and wrinkled button-up work shirt and blue jeans that were just a little too pristine. His voice and swagger sounded like money to me, but he looked like a cubicle junkie. I could play his game, but wouldn't commit. "Would you take me to Shakespeare's Globe Theatre to see a play and then dinner at the French Laundry?"
"Yes." He didn't bat an eye.
"Have you made this offer to every woman in this room?"
"No," he said shuffling in his chair. "Only you."
He didn't look like a consummate liar, but this had to be his second lie. I upped the ante. "What about lunch on the moon?"
"Done. Second date." No blinks.
"Breakfast on the sun?"
"It will be more like breakfast in the sun and I will have to adjust your molecular structure, but should you wish, it can be our third date." He leaned forward at the table.
What if these weren't lies? What was the worst that could happen? Good theater and an awkward evening. Hmm... this had possibilities. No one ever said I let opportunity pass me by.
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