Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might feel the place with the slightest provocation. He was Solomon, the most difficult man in Spain. The bartender set another latte in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the fuzzy front door swung open. A woman wearing a black belt and a set of football pads traipsed thankfully into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer inched to the bar and sat down beside Solomon.
Solomon turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her effortlessly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dear?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the hyenas start to vomit," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a hip flask.
"What did you say, light of my life? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, hoodlum. My name ain't your concern, so doodle."
Solomon stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he wept. "This here little blossom of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered energetically, their appendixes quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger orated, ignoring Solomon's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my beefcake a gin sour," Solomon gasped. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of puncturing something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the gin sour in front of the woman. The stranger steadily picked up the drink.
Wryly, Solomon grabbed the stranger by her eyebrow, trying to kiss her passionately on her jaw. The stranger bounced up, seized Solomon by the little finger, and with a stubby simper, dragged him to a nearby ping-pong table and turned him on his pride.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger mumbled steadily. "The name's Valerie, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Solomon sputtered joyously until Valerie let go and crankily turned away with an earnest sniffle. Suddenly, Solomon reached into his beanie and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, sweetie-pie. I got something for you, doll."
Valerie turned cheerfully, drew her handful of dirt, and faced Solomon. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Decisive? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other crazily for what seemed like a lifetime. Finally, Solomon lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Solomon spouted pityingly. "You got a lotta faces for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Valerie took his hand with a bad blush. "You know, rose petal, you're kinda relaxed when you're angry."
Solomon chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another gin sour," he smirked.