The Woman in the Red Dress
By Cutiemidnight
I was standing in the back of Paddy's Pub near the jukebox, beer in hand. It was another slow day, but those had become commonplace. Hardly any customers occupied the bar except for a few old men sitting at some tables. I popped a few quarters into the rusty machine and selected "At Last" by Etta James.
Then, she walked in. She was tall and slender, yet had curves in all the right places. Her skin was as golden as if a ray of sun always shone down on her. Dark, lovely curls of hair cascaded down her back, but it was her eyes that caught me the most. They were golden yellow and looked like those of a cat - mysterious with a hint of mischief behind them.
She wore a tight, red dress that hugged her body and impossibly high heels that she walked in with ease. A black clutch was in her delicate hand. She looked so out of place in the dingy, drab interior of the bar. A rose amongst weeds. She claimed the last barstool on the left. Dee, not having any other customers to attend to, immediately greeted her. The woman said something to her that I couldn't hear, and Dee left shortly before sliding a vodka on the rocks to her.
Dee started wiping the bar at the opposite end from the woman, humming to herself contentedly. "Dee!" I shouted over the loud music coming from the jukebox, but just softly enough for the woman not to hear.
Dee's head shot up abruptly to lock eyes with me and she froze.
"Come here!" I demanded.
She looked around tentatively before throwing her rag on the bar top and walking over to where I was. "What do you want, Charlie?"
I jutted my chin out in the direction of the woman. "Who's that?"
Dee glanced over her shoulder at who I was speaking about before returning her gaze to me and shrugging. "I don't know. I've never seen her here before."
I hummed in agreement. Dee placed her hands on her hips and raised a brow at me. "Why don't you go find out who she is, Charlie? Go talk to her."
I dismissed the thought immediately. "No, no. I can't. I'll just stay here."
The blonde huffed. "This is the waitress all over again! Go talk to her, Charlie, or you'll regret it!"
"No, I'll just let Mac or Dennis get her." I crossed my arms over my chest, my eyes never leaving the woman.
She rolled her eyes. "You're pathetic, Charlie." She sneered before returning to her post behind the bar.
I slumped against the jukebox and sipped my beer as I watched her, a small smile on my face. I couldn't approach a girl like that, but that didn't stop me from pining for her.
#
It was one week later, and I stayed by the jukebox again. Dennis was behind the bar this time, absentmindedly wiping glasses since it was yet another slow day at Paddy's. I tossed my quarters into the jukebox and chose "At Last" once again.
My jaw nearly hit the floor as the woman entered the bar and took her same seat. She was wearing the exact same outfit she wore last week and still looked as stunning as ever. Dennis noticed her, and his eyes clouded over with lust. That signature smirk of his came over his face, and I bristled. If Dennis talked to her, then I would lose her for sure.
He approached her confidently, asked for her order, then returned with a vodka on the rocks. He rested his elbow on the bar top and said something to the woman. Once Dennis finished flirting, he winked at her. Nothing happened for a moment, and I awaited the woman's reaction anxiously.
She rose to her feet, her face contorted with anger. Gripping her drink in one hand, she chucked the contents at him, soaking his shirt. His brow furrowed and he surveyed his drenched clothing.
"What the hell?" He yelled at the woman.
Rolling her eyes, she set her glass down on the bar top and grabbed her clutch before stomping out the door, her hips swaying behind her. Dennis grabbed the rag he had been using and walked over to me, attempting to dry his shirt.
"The nerve of that girl." Dennis muttered angrily, his gaze still lingering on the door.
"Amazing." I murmured and chuckled.
#
Another week went by, and I couldn't help but think about the woman in the red dress. Would I be seeing her again? Why did she continue to return to Paddy's anyways?
It was Tuesday, the day she had visited on during the last two weeks. I stood beside the jukebox and pushed up the sleeve of my jacket, revealing my watch. It read 10:00 PM, the time she came to the bar at. I slid my coins into the jukebox, pressed the button for "At Last", and glued my eyes to the door.
Sure enough, she showed, in her red minidress and everything. She sat in her usual seat and ordered a vodka on the rocks from Dee.
Mac clapped me on the back firmly. "Hey, buddy." He welcomed me. Then, his eyes landed on the woman in the red dress. They grew to the size of saucers and his jaw hung open. "Woah. Is that the girl you can't stop talking about?"
My cheeks grew warm. "Yeah." I confirmed.
"Well, you sure know how to pick the hot ones." He looked at the woman like a predator stalking its prey and licked his lips. "You don't mind if I go for her, do you, Charlie?"
I shook my head. "Be my guest." I gestured to her.
Mac ran a hand through his raven black hair before sauntering over to the woman. I grinned, anticipating Mac's failed attempt at wooing her.
Mac snaked his arm around her shoulders and whispered something in her ear. A second later, the woman retaliated and smacked him in the face. He stumbled back, gripping where she had hit him. I covered my mouth with my hand to stifle my uncontrollable laughter. The woman, clearly annoyed, snatched up her clutch before bolting out the door once again.
Mac staggered over to me, his face bright red where the woman's hand had made contact. "Son of a bitch!" He shrieked, pacing back and forth while his fists clenched and unfurled.
I leaned back against the ruddy brick wall, my arms folded over my chest. My lips curled into a smirk because, in a way, the woman had remained mine.
#
A week passed, and it was Tuesday again. At 10:00 PM, the woman in the red dress entered the bar to the sound of Etta James's song "At Last". She sat in her seat and searched her surroundings for the bartender, tapping her long nails on the smooth, polished surface of the bar.
Dee rushed by, intentionally bumping into me. She glared at me over her shoulder before replacing her cold expression with a smile. The look she had given me urged me to strut up to the woman and talk to her, yet I remained where I was by the jukebox, watching as the woman downed her vodka on the rocks.
#
Every week on Tuesday at 10:00 PM, I would stand by the jukebox and play "At Last". The woman in the red dress would enter the bar, sit at the last barstool on the left, and order a vodka on the rocks. She would stare off into space and swish her drink and listen to the ice clink against the glass while Dee would wipe the bar top at the other end. And I would watch. I would watch her and wonder why she returned to Paddy's every week and what made her come here in the first place. I would watch her and long for her and admire her from a distance.
The woman in the red dress was the epitome of temptation. The ruby red lipstick on her perfectly plump lips, the way she looked like a panther slinking through the jungle when she walked, and the look in her mischievous, yellow eyes that could seduce any man with one glance were not even the tip of the iceberg. Yet, here I remained every time by the jukebox. I grew cold as I watched her come and go and come and go.
I was growing tired of waiting.
#
It was Tuesday at 10:00 PM. I gave the jukebox some quarters to play "At Last" and assumed my regular position by the machine. I waited.
I waited.
Then, she walked in. She sat at the last barstool on the left. She ordered a vodka on the rocks from Dee. She drank it and stared out the window at the black night pierced by neon lights.
I waited.
I caught Dee's eye as she wiped down the bar top. She paused slightly to look at me before she lowered her head and continued to scrub at the surface with a rag. Her eyes were so full of doubt and disappointment that they caused a shock to go through me. It ran down my spine and coursed through my veins. My breath quickened and my heart sped up. I wasn't going to wait any longer.
I stepped forward.
My eyes were trained on her. I couldn't think as my shoes clicked against the floor. Then, I sunk into the plush top of a barstool next to the woman in the red dress.
I was facing her. She was so close that I could notice the freckles on her nose and smell her spicy perfume. Regardless, she continued to face the bar and stare out the window.
I swallowed. "Is this seat taken?" I asked.
She said nothing for a moment. "Depends," her voice was rich like chocolate and smooth like butter, just as I had imagined it to be, "are you actually going to talk to me instead of staring at me from beside a jukebox?"
A grin crept onto my face. She had been watching me too.
"Yes." I agreed. Then, the woman settled her gaze on me, and shivers shot down my spine when I finally saw those yellow eyes look at me and take me in. Her ruby-stained lips were curled into an ever-present smirk.
"Hi," I extended a hand out to her, "my name's Charlie."
The woman glanced at my hand before shaking it. "Hello, Charlie. It's nice to meet you." Her grip was firm, yet still reassuring.
There was something about her that I hadn't noticed before. There was a twinkle in her eyes that was so unlike the mischief and mystery that usually occupied them. It was a twinkle of hope, of love, and all at once I knew why she came to Paddy's Pub so often.
"So, Charlie," the woman in the red dress said, "why don't you buy me a drink?"
The End