Sometimes when I talk my voice picks up odd accents. I don't do it on purpose, or even know it's happening, but I do know it happens. People are always asking me where I'm from, or if I've traveled, because my speech will have this inflection or that. I've never actually been anywhere, but I sound like I'm from New York, or California, Boston or Austin, even Ireland or, once, Australia. The really funny thing about that one was that it was an Aussie that picked it out. He thought that he'd run into a fellow countryman up here in the states. Probably I had heard him talking and subconsciously picked up the inflections and subtleties from him. The first I knew of it was when he sidled up to me at the bar and asked me what part of Australia I was from.
I laughed and said I wasn't, why did he ask. That's when I heard it. There in that moment, I really did sound Australian. He looked skeptical until I explained. "I'm actually from Atlanta, but I've been in theatre. I pick up accents. Accidentally."
We ended up chatting. I bought him a drink, he bought me one. A gorgeous girl came over and tried to buy him a drink and he politely refused, which threw me for a moment, but only for a moment. Okay, maybe he wasn't here to pick up girls. Then it dawned on me that he was trying to pick up... me.
Oh...
A smile twitched at the corners of my mouth and I leaned a little closer. "You want to be careful in this town. Folks are nice, but not very understanding."
He looked confused. "How d'you mean?" He really did have a sexy accent. I could see why the woman had tried to hook up with him.
I reached over under the bar and laid a hand on his knee. He stilled. "Folks are nice, but not very understanding about..." I squeezed his knee and he made a little noise, covering it up by taking a drink.
"How d'you know... What makes you think that I'm..." He glanced around. The woman who had tried to buy him a drink waved coquettishly at him and he smiled and lifted his drink, then turned back to the bar.
"That's why," I said. "Seriously? Have you seen her? And she wanted you, man."
He glanced back at her again. "You think?"
"Stop looking at her unless you plan on giving her what she wants," I muttered. "You'll give her ideas."
He looked over at me. "So you think you know what I want, then?"
I downed the rest of my drink and leaned over close, speaking softly in his ear. "Yeah. You wanna get outta here?" I set my glass down, tossed some money on the bar and waved to the bartender. "Later, Jerry." The bartender waved without looking up. I clapped my new friend on the shoulder and grinned. "Later, mate. Welcome to America." He looked at me, stunned, and I gave him a wink and walked out.
I waited around outside for a while, leaned up against my car and smoking a cigarette. I had almost given up when he came out the door. By the look of his walk, he'd had a couple of shots of liquid courage before he finally got up the nerve to take me up on my offer. I saw the cop watching the bar take interest and stubbed out my cigarette on the tire.
"Here, you can't drive like that," I said, going up and taking his arm. "Let me drive you home. Cops'll pull you over in a second if they see you on the road." I nodded in the direction of the patrol car and he stiffened up. I waved to the cop, indicating that I was going to drive the Aussie, and he went back to his newspaper. As I helped him into the passenger seat I said, "So, you never did tell me your name."
"Charlie," he said, watching my eyes as I took perhaps too long fastening his seat belt.
"Well Charlie," I grinned, copying his accent when I said his name, "I'm Sam Payton. Now that you've got me what're you gonna do with me?"
He licked his lips and I almost leaned in to kiss him right then. "Take me home, Sam," he said huskily.
