Free Full Disclosure by Thirteen

CHAPTER ONE
     
    “Liars!” It was the high-watermark at Bud’s Basement , that hour when the bar was almost a quarter full; which meant that a few of the chipped, Formica tables were occupied and most of the nine bar stools were taken. The night wasn’t old, but it was no longer young, and Roy was finishing off his second shot of tequila. “All women are fucking liars. It’s all we ever get from them.”
    “Tell it buddy!” That from a trio of beer-guzzlers at one of the tables. Roy knew they were mocking him; that was to be expected at a dive like Bud’s . Usually he haunted hotel bars, but tonight he wanted to get drunk and the dingy “Basement” was a very good place to get drunk. It was also a place where he could rant and no one would give a shit.
    “Airbrushed lies in magazines,” he went on, “corseted-mascaraed lies on dates. Lies about what they like. About what they want.”
    “Yeah!” His new buddies raised their mugs to him.
    “‘Are you happy?’ you ask them,” Roy pointed to his empty glass and the jaded bartender obligingly poured him another finger of Curveo Gold. “‘Of course, I’m happy,’ they tell you. Next thing you know, they’ve left you for some asshole with a bigger bank account. Why? ‘Cause you’re not making them happy! Liars!”
    “And you guys are so up front?” a woman’s voice suddenly demanded.
    Roy straightened up. What the hell? “I beg your pardon?” he snapped.
    “The first thing every asshole in high school learns to say to a girl is ‘I love you,’ instead of ‘I want to fuck you,” she went on, and that’s when he saw her. The bar was a half-square shape and she was seated at the corner opposite him, a raven-haired woman in an ivory colored dress.
    “Whoa.” There were a couple of ladies at the billiards table knocking about the balls. They’d been pointedly ignoring Roy, but now they were looking up. The one who’d spoken was grinning.
    “Oh, and talk about hiding your feelings—” the woman at the bar continued, gold earrings swinging. “That’s all men ever do. They won’t tell you what they’re thinking or feeling or want or need. It’s not ‘manly.’ Not manly. That’s just an excuse for keeping secrets.”
    “Oooo!” approved the ladies at the billiard table. “You go girl!”
    Roy scowled. He wasn’t about to let some cunt ruin his tirade. “Better than hiding the truth behind all those gushing confessions,” he lobbed back. “ ‘I want more tenderness. I want more attention. I want more pretty things.’ And what she really wants is to fuck someone else!”
    “Score!” One of the beer guys hooted.
    “Oh, please,” the woman at the bar sneered. “You guys do exactly the same thing. ‘Wear this, it’s sexy. Shave your crotch that’s sexy. Act like a slut, that’s so sexy.’ And then you complain that we’re not the girl you fell in love with. Why can’t you just come out and admit you’re tired of us?”
    “Gotcha!” a billiard girl crowed.
    “At least we give you ladies a chance,” Roy grumbled. “The moment you lay eyes on a guy you’re thinking of ways to change him. Maybe we should start the date by handing you a portfolio? Height, weight, allergies, salary, bad habits. And if you don’t like what you see, the date ends. No need to even try and remodel us.”
    “Dude!” another of the beer guys approved.
    “Not a bad idea,” the woman, surprisingly, nodded. “Everyone looks so damn good on a first date, wearing their Sunday best, talking themselves up. We should all be required to show ourselves at our worst. Full disclosure. Then we could dump or get dumped before things got serious.”
     
“Yeah,” Roy found himself agreeing. Maybe it was the tequila, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Brutal honesty. Full disclosure. What would it be like to go on a date like that?
    From his front pocket came the sound of a ring. He pulled out his phone and checked the name. He