“What is it, Concentric what?”
“Yes,” I say, not confidently.
Minutes pass. He tries to make a joke with the bartender, “I heard the next one's on you.”
The bartender's heard this one before, “That's just a rumor,” she says. “A vicious, vicious rumor.”
“Just playing,” he says. “I probably don't need another.” He pays his tab.
“Nice meeting you guys.”
He's not done trying to be my drug dealer and entertainment for the night.
“Let me know if you want to party with some strippers.”
“From where?” WHY DID I ASK HIM THAT?
“From [name of a popular, local strip club].”
“No, never been there!”
“What's your number?”
“I'm good, thanks buddy!”
“Cool.” He and his girlfriend go out into the night, trying to trick someone else into selling him coke.