The Bartender

Chapter One

Fang

I don't think it was the sensation of being intoxicated that I loved so much. Or even the various girls in my bed every night. No, I think it was more likely this bar. Or, more appropriately, the bartender.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" I asked, raising my gaze from my empty beer bottle to the gorgeous blonde in front of me.

"I asked if you wanted another beer," she repeated herself, taking my empty and tossing it beneath the bar into a recycling bin.

I nodded, glancing around me at the smoky bar I loved so much.

The blonde turned around and bent down to pick out another beer from a refrigerator, her shirt that already showed part of the fierce metal bar poking through her naval riding up further on her stomach.

She slid the bottle across the bar at me and watched as I popped it open.

"How many is this?" I asked as I sipped the first drops from the now open bottle.

"That would be three, which means you're probably buzzed enough to tell me what her name is," she replied, sopping up a spilled drink with a ratty towel.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I took another sip of my beer as I ran my fingers through my hair.

"Listen, I've seen many a guy come in here with that exact same look on their face. That pained, 'I don't want to live anymore' look, and every time it was because of a girl. Their girlfriend cheated, their girlfriend left them, their girlfriend died. Now, tell me, lover-boy, which is it?" she asked through soft peals of laughter, tossing the damp towel to her co-worker, Ella, before returning her attention to me.

She leaned her elbows on the bar and looked at me, awaiting my answer.

"Since you're so persistent, I'll tell you. She's just a girl who I've known since the eighth grade and I've always had feelings for her. But she's been dating my brother for three years, and I can't seem to get it off my mind. Nevermind the fact that my brother isn't even in this country at the moment."

"Fang, you know as well as I do that I can't comment on that. I love your brother more than anything. I would do absolutely anything for that man. But on the other hand, I also would do anything for you. With the exception of a few things." she added at the end, laughing.

"Sorry, I just can't get it out of my head. And what are those 'few things'?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, taking another sip of my drink.

"Sleep with you to cheer you up and relieve your astronomical tab here. Which is starting to get very high, so unless you recently won the lottery and I didn't know, maybe you should stop drinking."

"Yeah, sleeping with me would probably be bad considering you're in a very committed relationship with an army man. Though I don't think bad is the right word. Maybe, wrong. Because it wouldn't be bad, per say." I quipped, smiling deviously when I saw the expression on her face.

"Oh, shut up. I love Iggy, and you know that. Quit making jokes like that to me." my brother's girlfriend snapped, genuinely looking like she wanted to rip my throat out.

"Yeah, but you don't know how much it kills me to see you with him. Holding you and kissing you. It hurts, badly. Not to mention that you two got together just after I told you I was in love with you. Think about that, Maximum."

I pulled my wallet out from my back pocket and dropped the money I owed for my many drinks, plus a tip for my 'wonderful' bartender.

Max slid her tip into her pocket and put the rest of the money in a locked black box under the bar.

"And also think about this: you want me to stop drinking, but yet I come in here, and you're always my bartender, correct?" she nodded. "Well, I tip you very well because a wise woman once told me that if you take care of your bar tender, she will take care of you. So, if you add up how much I tip you, I pretty much pay your rent."

"Fang, you've paid my rent on a number of occasions, and not by your tips. And I thank you for that, but you need to stop drinking."

Just as I was heading out the door, I felt a chilly hand on my shoulder; Max's hand.

"I'll be right back, Ella!" she called over her shoulder to her co-worker, who nodded and let her go.

Max slipped her hand into mine and pulled me outside to her car. Though Max hated that I drank do often, when she felt that it was necessary, she drove me home to make sure I didn't kill myself—or anyone else, for that matter.

Max lifted me slightly into her Jeep and closed the door before walking around her car to the driver's side.

"How many times this week is this that I've driven you home? Twice? Three times?" Max asked, sarcasm dripping in her voice as she began to drive to my apartment.

"Twice." I replied, laying my pounding head on the cold glass window, trying to drown out Max's lecturing.

I must've zoned out because the next thing I knew, Max was opening the car door and helping me out, wrapping her arm around my torso.

Thank God my apartment was on the first floor of the building because if it wasn't, Max wouldn't be so generous about driving me home all the time.

Max pulled the spare key to my apartment that I'd given her a while back out of her boot and unlocked the door, walking us inside before kicking it shut and dragging me to my room.

Max dropped her arm from around me and pushed me roughly backward so I landed on my bed.

"I mean, Max, I like it a little rough, but you might wanna calm down a little." I said, cockily.

Max rolled her eyes and walked over to my bedside table, opening the little drawer it had.

I knew what she was looking for.

Every time she drove me home, she'd always try and find 'em. But they were never in the same place. Well, with the exception of that particular night.

"Yet another thing you need to quit." Max muttered, almost to herself, holding up my pack of cigarettes and the lighter she'd gotten me for my eighteenth birthday.

Max shoved my cigs and lighter into her shirt before turning back to glare at me.

"Go to sleep. I'll come back in the morning to make sure you're not dead."

"Well, I can't very well do that if I'm still fully dressed, can I?"

I was partially joking when I said that. Part of me was joking to make her mad, but another part of me was dead serious.

"You can. And you will. I don't want to see you at the bar tomorrow. And if I do, I'll call security."

I may have been joking, but she sure as hell wasn't.

"Max, going to the bar is my excuse to see you."

"You have my number. You can see me whenever you want, just not when you're drunk at a bar."

I stood up from the bed, almost toppling over from how much my head was pounding before I righted myself.

A mildly painful silence encased us before I decided to break it.

"I wasn't kidding about not wanting to go to sleep in my clothes."

Again, Max rolled her eyes. But to my surprise, Max came over to me and grasped onto the hem of my shirt.

"Arms up." Max whispered, starting to drag my shirt up my body.

As for my body, I had nothing to be ashamed of, so I wasn't exactly sure why Max looked like she wanted to kill me.

After she got my shirt off and tossed it into my dirty clothes hamper, she knelt down to undo the button and zipper on my jeans.

Max's tiny fingers were about as cold as ice as she slid my jeans down my legs.

I stepped out of my pants and watched Max toss them into my hamper.

"Now, Mr. Scott, go to sleep. And in the morning, take two Ibuprofen and drink a lot of water. Goodnight." Max said, stiffly.

Max turned around and rushed out of my room and apartment. But not before I noticed two small Chinese symbols on the inside of her right wrist.

Hey, everyone! Okay, so I know I've been missing in action for about a month now, and I'm so sorry for that! I really am. And I'm sorry, but I'll be going away for eleven days starting on July 5th. I'm really sorry about being so inactive with my account, but to be honest, I really have had horrible writer's block. And I know I'm making excuses, but I hope you all can forgive me!

Also, as always, I hope you enjoyed this new addition to my collection of Fanfictions, and will review. I will try and update this story and Sing for the Moments before I leave!

I'm going to be taking a six hour plane flight across an ocean, so wish me luck! I'm kind of scared. I haven't been on a plane in a few years and I'm kind of worried. But I'm sure everything will go just as it should.

Thank you all for reading and I love you all!

xoxo,

K.J the Traveler.