As he approached, Brenda asked. “Do you have any matches?”
Ed nodded, produced a box from behind the counter.
“You mind if I light a fag?”
“What?” asked RJ. “Fag?”
“A cigarette?” Brenda shook her head and laughed. “I sometimes forget that we have sayings American don’t get.”
“No, go ahead.”
For the next hour, Brenda and RJ drank eight bottles of beer between them. RJ learned that Brenda worked as a nurse, divorced, no kids, had arrived in Saudi two months before, and only came to the country, like others before her, for the money that the Saudi government paid.
“Hey, RJ, we’re closing in a few,” said Ed.
“Thanks, let me settle my tab.”
“Can I contribute?” asked Brenda.
“No, my treat. Maybe you can get it the next time.”
“Wow, good-looking, gracious and funny,” Brenda said. “Where have you been all this time?”
RJ laughed. He liked Brenda.
She’s not Pad, though.
“Let me walk you out,” RJ offered.