Chapter One

"So anyways, Alex, how was your trip? Any, trouble at the airport?"

I look over at my table of friends, all waiting expectantly for my next words. As if I'd actually get caught.

"Well, if you thought they'd get me for my last drop, think again. It wasn't too bad. They took my moisturizer, guys. I had to walk through the airport barefoot. I mean, if Bush fucking wins again, we're all moving to Berlin."

Seeing as my friends are all liberals, I get a round of applause and "Amens", with all of us holding up our beer bottles and pushing them together in one simultaneous group klink. But I don't really hear it. All I see at the moment is this girl who just walked into the dingy, horribly lit bar.

Long, wavy, dirty blonde hair that tickles just below her boobs. Nice. I'm guessing an A or B cup? From behind, it's quite the view. Legs for days, and those jeans aren't doing her any favors.

"Hey, you," I call out to her from my spot at the table. She doesn't move from where she stands at the bar. I cup a hand over my mouth.

"Laura Ingalls Wilder."

She turns behind her, as if expecting someone else would actually come into the bar, then catches my eye and turns to face me. I get a clear look at her face. It's thin, framed by the waves of dirty blonde, with thin lips and these clear, watery blue eyes. Like someone drained them of color and only left the slightest shade of blue left. It's like she's beautiful without trying.

"We're skipping America before the apocalypse. Wanna come?"

I add in a flirtatious smile to top it off. Confusion floods her face.

"Sorry?"

Before I can respond, the bartender shows up behind her. It's a small bar, so I can hear every single word of their exchange.

"What can I get for you?" He asks, both hands resting on the mahogany bar.

"Oh, hi, I was wondering if you were hiring?"

The bartender glances at the resumé in her hands, then purses his lips.

"No, sorry."

"Well, can I leave this with you?"

"Honestly, it's just going to end up in a drawer somewhere, so…"

She looks down and I can tell she's disappointed.

"Okay. Well…"

Blondie starts to turn her head in my direction, so I immediately immerse myself in conversation with my friends. She turns back to the bartender.

"Can I have a margarita, then?"

"That I can do for you."

Time to shine. Before I stand up to go talk to her, my friend Christina leans over and whispers, "If you fuck her I'll give you ten bucks."

I snorted. "I'll take you on for that, but add on an extra five if Silvy doesn't find out."

I left her laughing at the table, and approach Blondie. Setting my beer on the bar, I stand right next to her barstool and say, "It's a little cold out for a margarita, don't you think?"

Without waiting for a reply, I give her the smallest of smirks then pick up Blondie's resumé.

"Let's see this," I say, while quickly scanning the obviously faked resumé. Hmmm. Pretty girl, hasn't worked a day in her life, nice clothes… possibly a new recruit? No. She seems too…whole. Too pure. If it were any other girl, like one with mommy issues, a long-time girlfriend called herion, and a mane of hair that no brush could ever tame, then it might be a different story.

"Steve's Greek Cuisine? Le Grande Fromage? Bullshit, bullshit." I say, chuckling at her now reddening face. "You need a lesson in fudging a resumé."

Blondie finally speaks up, and says, "Do you work here?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She seems taken aback, confirming the uptight, ice-princess act I suspected. I continue on with the resumé.

"Manager, Polly Harper." Pffft. Who the hell names their kid Polly? "No one named Polly Harper gets put in charge. Who is that really?"

Blondie's face flushes, and she says, "It's my friend." We both chuckle.

"You've never waited a fucking table in your life, have you?"

She pauses, her smile showing off her dimples, shakes her head, and finally says, "No."

I glance back down at the resumé. "So… Piper Chapman?" Damn. Even her name is cute. I continue, "A Smith grad with excellent listening skills, passionate about making diners feel good…mmm, that sounds kind of dirty." The bartender sets Blondie's- er, Piper's margarita on the bar, and I tell him, "You can put that on my tab."

"Safe, clean, and careful when handling food and drink," I say with a smirk and a laugh as a now fully embarrassed Piper snatches her resumé out of my hands as she exclaims a soft, "Oh, gosh!" then rubs a hand on her forehead. I get her attention back by saying, "I like that in a woman." She smiles again, dimples apparent.

"So, what else do I need to know about you?"

She avoids my question by asking, "Who are you?"

I smile. "My name is Alex."

"And what do you do, Alex? Besides make fun of strangers in bars?"

Trying to say it as lightly as possible, I admit, "I work for an international drug cartel."

Shit. The eyebrows are raised. I play it off with a laugh, like it was a joke, with Piper following suit. Oh, if only she knew it was most definitely not a joke and I have a call to make to a new manufacturer in Amsterdam in approximately four hours. Behind me I hear the scraping of chairs as they're being pushed out from the table, and the sound of different conversations drifts away as my friends leave the bar.

"Hey Vause, you coming?" Asked Christina from the doorway, a smirk plastered on her face. My time is up.

"Yeah, yeah, on my way." I mumble. Turning back to Piper, I see that she's still smiling at me, maybe hoping that I'll stay. "Hey, I have to go," I say, watching her smile fade away. "But," I grab the napkin from under her margarita and scribble ten digits on it.

"Here's my number. Give me a call if you want to find out what I actually do for a living. Bye for now, Piper."

And before she has the chance to respond I'm already out the door.

"Looks like I don't owe you anything." says Christina as we walk away from the bar. I take in a deep breath, and smile at the thought of the gorgeous blonde with pale blue eyes.

"Just wait. Patience is a virtue."