The Bartender and The Beast
Don't Own SHAMAN KING.. WHHy! Dunt ASK ME…….. Im NOT ThAT tALENTED.. i
Chapter 1
"Hey darlin,' can I get a Piece of Ass ?"
You see, if I wasn't working in a bar, I might've reach out to hurt his not-so-pretty face. Unfortunately, being a bartender, I had rules to abide by. There are two simple rules that I had to keep in mind...
Rule #1 : Never touch a customer
Rule
#2: Never hurt a customer(unless of course, he/she is being a
complete ass)
Oh yeah, forgot to introduce myself the proper way. My name is Anna Kyouyama. Both my parents named me after my great grandmother who was half-Japanese and English(England). I know what you're thinking---that it's not exactly a Japanese name. And I don't blame you for thinking that. My mother loves my name. Whenever she pronounces it, she usually likes pronounce it with the English accent to convince everyone that it's a beautiful name. I'll tell you one thing though, it's not beautiful when she says it.
Moving right along…
Most of you might wonder why I'm working as a bartender. The answer is simple. I need the money. Secondly, I had no other choice. Now comes the complicating part. I'm 18 years old, how did an underage girl end up with job like this? Well, you could blame it on my uncle. You see, he's not an ordinary guy. The previous owner was gunned down a year ago because he had dealings with the wrong kind of people. This place, even the people, was just plain wrong. Everything about it was wrong, and yet my uncle had somehow landed himself in the middle of all the surrounding wrongness. After his boss died, everything was shoved towards him, only because the other men were too afraid to get their head blown off the same way as their boss if they had any means to take control of the bar. So that left my uncle to carry the burden. He accept it willingly, even if he was threatened with a gun to his head. Not to mention, that he was wailing like a baby at the time. No one could blame him for doing what he did. The other men admired him for his bravery. Ironically those men turned up dead too. Being a man who was way into his debt, my uncle decided to use the place to his own advantage. He made himself look good in front of the eyes of his family. Well---that's what he thinks anyway, considering he had always been the black sheep. Honestly, he did look good, but that didn't mean they accepted and forgiven him for his past doings.
But enough about my uncle's past, let's get on with my story...
When the bar was going through some renovations, my uncle was in desperate need for newly hired employees because the others had quit after the previous boss died. And that's where I came in. He had begged me to work for him. Seriously, I had no other choice then. With all the rumors flying around about people being gunned down, who would dare to apply? So eventually I agreed. Although it did take lots of convincing. We both agreed on some terms, deciding that we were keeping my identity hidden for safety reasons. Frankly, I don't want my head blown off either, nor do I want my head chopped off by my parents if they ever found out that I was working in a bar. That means my job will remain a secret. So far, so good. Everything seems to running smoothly in spite of all the stuff that goes on in the backroom . Heck, no one knew that me and my uncle were even related. You're probably wondering what I told my parents? I had to lie of course, telling them that I worked in late night café. It wasn't very convincing at first but they knew they couldn't prevent me from wanting a job. Nope, not me and my stubborn self. And that my friends, was how I ended up being a bartender.
So there I was that day. Playing dress up, and trying to look older than my age. When in fact, I looked like a freak being placed in some kind of freak show. Dress entirely all in black, from t-shirt rolled up at the to my shoulders, to the tight black leather pants to the leather boots and with my short blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. I had to admit, I did look older and very unappealing. Not that I was beautiful to begin with, but you get my drift.
My eyes were lined with dark non-waterproof mascara that was beginning to smudge. I had big eyes already and the eye-liner only made them worst. My lips had the darkest of darkest color. Even my nails were painted black. Not a pretty sight to look at. Every time I faced my own reflection, I had to cringe and constantly remind myself that I was only playing a role.
Now let's get back to that piece of ass that was mention earlier. For one thing, it's not a pick up line. A Piece of Ass is a Beer . A western drink, containing 1 shot of Amaretto, 1 shot of Southern Comfort over ice-cubes and filled with sour mix. Not a very good one but it is a drink nonetheless. But---that's not my point. My point is that I don't have to put up with all the a$$holes who come parading their money at me, assuming that I was going to give them more than just a drink. Take this guy for example. Like I mentioned earlier, his face was not so pretty. Skin too pale. Eyes too small. Mouth too big. Hair gelled, slicked back and probably as stiff as a rock. He was dressed in a three piece suit, completing his ensemble with a gleaming Rolex around his wrist which he made sure everyone saw because I had caught him repeatedly pulling down his sleeve. The bastard thought he was the sht.
I turned to my colleague and only friend, Pirika, who had been keeping herself occupied by wiping the already-wiped glasses for the past ten minutes. She lifted her eyes to look at me, sensing my glare. And then she smiled, understanding my intent. "We'll flip for it," she said to me.
Still ignoring the bastard, I reached for a coin off the countertop and started to flip it in the air, knowing Pirika already made her choice. Once it was in my hand again, I uncoiled my fingers and stared at the coin. Pirika had leaned in close to take a look at it too. A wide smile slowly etched across her face once she realized that she had lost to me.
"Why you lucky btch!" she remarked, setting the glass down and turn to serve the loser, who by now was looking slightly confused.
What the loser didn't know was that, us bartenders only flip coins for those customers who think they're better than anyone else. Take it as a way to insult the customers in front of them without them knowing.
As I was turning to busy myself, something caught my eye. There was someone else there. A guy with light brown colored hair seated on a stool with his upper body slumped over the countertop. In his right hand, he held onto a bottle of pure vodka which had been consumed halfway.
I pondered for a moment, trying to remember if I had given him that bottle. No, I'm not allowed. Perhaps, Pirika had? No, she wasn't allowed either. Besides, Pirika is afraid of breaking any rules, she wasn't going to risk her neck for anybody. Ah, so that left me to one conclusion….he had probably snuck it in. Wait---why would anybody be stupid enough to sneak in a bottle of vodka into a bar when there was already vodka in the bar? Okay so in the end, I was left with no conclusion at all.
As much as I hated it, I couldn't just stand there and watch him sleep away, holding onto that half empty bottle. I had to do something. So then I did. I moved towards him, determine to snatch the bottle from his hand before he could realize anybody was there.
In a flash, my arm shot out to grab the bottle but in that very second, the idiot moved. So I was left---well let's just say that I was left with a few strands of his hair in my hand. Maybe not a few strands---I did drop some to the floor…
Oops.
Bad, very bad.
He howled. Yes he did. I couldn't blame him. He was a guy. It hurts like a bh when a guy gets his hair yanked out. I know this because I've done this to my younger brother plenty of times before.
Like---an angry wolf, his howl suddenly ceased into a low growl. Beneath all the long hair that obscured his face, the beast growled. If I didn't know any better, I'd think saw fangs sprouting from his mouth.
But who would've thought that it would all change, the moment he shook his hair free from his face. I froze, unaware that he had snatched for my one arm that still held onto the few strands.
Beneath the shaggy hair, lurked a handsome man with high sculpted cheekbones, a sharp nose with a slight curve to it and that could only be described as perfection. A prominent mouth that was pressed tightly in a grim line, proving nonetheless that he was very angry. His eyes, looking slightly lazy, had the darkest orbs. You'd feel yourself drowning in them, if you were to stare any deeper. And his eyebrows, had a slight arch to it, defining those lovely eyes. Gosh, never had I expected to meet such a beautiful beast!
Suddenly I found myself gasping aloud, either from his handsomeness or the tightening grip around my wrist. That was when I realized that I had allowed my mind to wander too far. Reality check, Anna! My conscious spoke.
Trying to wrench my arm free from his grasp, I was back to myself again pushing away all of my foolish thoughts for him. "You know, you could let go."
He didn't speak, only sitting there with my wrist in his grasp, remaining completely immobile. As of this moment, every single damn bartending rule had been broken.
Still refusing to look at his face, I continued to wrestle my arm away, this time stomping my foot like a child who was about to be punished for all her wrong doings. I would not cry out. It wasn't my thing. I don't like being helpless. I especially don't like looking like the fool in front of everyone. Not that everyone was looking. But at this point, I wanted to scream out loud. Really, I did. And why is that I felt like the thief here? It was only two strands of hair for heavenly sakes!
"Give it back!" he demanded with a voice so cold and deep that it could send a chill down my back in a good and bad way.
"Give what back!" I yelled, trying to match his tone. Only then had I realized that I was staring directly at his face. This time the hair had concealed apart of it, so that helped somewhat.
He pulled me closer until my stomach was pressed tightly against the countertop. Our faces were so close that I stopped breathing completely. "You'll give it back!" he growled.
I guess he really wants his hair back. Crazy lunatic. So sure about yourself, aren't you?
"Err---okay," I suddenly agreed.
Slowly unclenching my hand, I surrendered. We both watched as the hairs fall to the countertop. Yes, it might've seem stupid, but I think for that moment, there was some kind of understanding, or whatever the heck you may call it.
His grip around my wrist loosen, and yet still refusing to let go. With his other arm, he slowly picked up the few strands. "My hair," he said, his eyebrows forming a frown.
I took my chance to withdraw from him, grabbing the bottle of vodka, and finishing it all off with a big sheepish grin on my face. Ha! Take that!
He angled his face slightly just so he could look at me. And gosh, I wanted to be a kid again. He was so checking me out! It wasn't one of those lingering look over, that draws you in. It was more quick, but much, much more effective, leaving you to wonder if he liked what he saw. Why that crazy bastard!(Truthfully, I've never really had any man give me that look over before. Reason is, I've always been unappealing). Gosh, why did the heavens decide to bless this being with such good looks?
"You're going to pay," he said. This time, sounding more normal and all the more threatening.
"No. You'll pay! You mindless pumpkinhead!"
I think he rolled his eyes.
You see this bottle of vodka that you've kindly helped yourself to?" I lifted the bottle up to show him. "You're going to pay for it."
He shook his head slightly and I think he rolled his eyes again. But I wasn't certain because of all that hair. Come to think of it, he was really beginning to resemble those Japanese Anime characters. Not only that, but there was something else to him. There was youthfulness in his features. He had to be no older than me by two years.
Leaning in close with a less threatening expression, he responded. "You're going to give me that bottle back and I'm going to forget," he gestured a finger to his hair, "that you pulled out my hair. How about that?"
What the? Why the hell was his ugly hair so important to him? This guy was really crazy. "And if I don't, what will you do?"
"You wanna see what happens?" he paused, clicking his tongue and then added, "you're going to have to wait."
Ah, so he was taunting me now. No one taunts or threatens me. And I mean no one! Not even this beautiful creature with weird hair. Did I neglect to mention that I take Tae Kwon Do lessons. It would help a lot if I could beat him senseless. Needless to say, the thought of destroying his handsome face was incredibly disturbing and yet unsettling all at the same time.
I faked a smile at him. "Yes…" I tipped the bottle and began to slowly pour the liquor out, taunting him in return. "Yes, we'll have to see about that."
Good going, now you really tempted the beast . I could see his clench fingers tightening. Even his jaw was tightening. Even the veins popped out along his arm. Not a beautiful sight, I'll tell you. Very unnerving, not to mention just plain scary.
I quickly ran my eyes around the room, trying to see if anyone had notice our little situation. Okay I admit. I was scared now. And I was only looking to see if anyone could help. Most of them were busy dancing, others sat and watched the dancers. Luckily there were barely any drinkers tonight, not that I cared. There was another customer at the counter and then I realized that it was the same loser from earlier. Strangely, he and Pirika were flirting openly. What the hell was going on? I turn my back for a few minutes and yet she was already coiling her hair around her finger. Damn that girl!
Security please! Anyone!
I was losing patience. Either I was going to take care of it or let him leap from behind the counter and bite my head off.
I snapped my attention back to the crazy lunatic in front of me. And guess what he was doing? He was waving his index finger at me, indicating for me to go close to him.
Hell no! I'm not stupid, you a$$hole! I wanted to curse out loud.
He frowned again. That's when I realized I did cuss out loud.
As if playing dumb, I said, "Excuse me?"
"Come here. I won't bite, I promise," he ordered.
Thinking that I was beginning to feel like a coward. I tightened my grip around the empty bottle and took a reluctant forward. "Yes?"
"Come closer."
As if on command, I did. Stupid idiot, you're gonna get yourself killed . My conscious spoke to me. No, dummy. You have the upper hand. Remember bottle in hand . My other conscious replied.
So then, there I was. Close enough to him, within reaching distance. "What huh?"
"Why aren't you coming closer?"
"Because your breath smells!" I retorted.
Right then he caught me completely off guard by reaching out to pluck a few strands of my hair, messing up my ponytail in the process. This time it was me, who howled. Quickly covering my mouth in embarrassment, I made my howl turn into a muffle instead.
"Thank you," he said.
That bastard. He didn't bite, but he plucked!
He then grabbed my hand and placed the two strands of his hair into my palm. "Keep it. So you can remember me."
There was the sound of shattered glass echoing in my ear. Oops. I dropped the bottle.
With those last words, he was off. I watched him go in complete silence and found myself awestruck by his presence. He was tall for one thing, towering above the other men. And then I noticed his ruffled clothes. The guy had on one of them special occasion suits. Except the tie had been loosen, the shirt, opened at the collar and un-tucked at the waist. He made his way through the crowd of dancers as if the alcohol had done no damage control to him and eventually, he disappeared.
It finally occurred to me, for a drunk guy, he was pretty sober. But still, what the hell did he want with my hair? And what the hell was I going to do with his?
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