Author's Note: Hey! Okay so first off, this is a Hooker & Barney story from Janet Evanovich's Metro Girl series, it is set two years after the first book and the second book has not been set at all in the time frame. Secondly, I'm writing this story with a friend of mine (FF account Potahtoist). Potahtoist is in charge of writing the plot line and I'm in charge of writing the story. There may be new characters that come into it that are of Shreetahtoist invention; honestly I'm not sure I only have the beginning of the plot line. So here it is, for your enjoyment:
A Night Out On the Town
Barney's POV:
"Where is it?!" I scream at no one it particular, "Dammit!" Okay, I was pissed off. I was having a night out and I couldn't find it! Damn! I bet Hooker knows where it is! A drawer full of junk flew across the room.
"Whoops," that would be my fault.
"Bloody hell what in the f…?!" Hooker's muffled voice screams. Damn, where is he? I run out into the lounge and do the quick once over. Not out in the open. Not behind any chairs. Not in the kitchen area. Not in any closets. That must mean…
"Hooker you jerk! Stop bloody hiding you wimp!" I screamed at the blackout curtains. Okay maybe I should explain about that. You see, I'm living in Hooker's apartment for awhile and well, I have a small fear of heights, and if you didn't know already Hooker lives pretty high up, probably it's the billionth floor! Okay that's exaggerating a tinsy little bit. But it's high enough to feel the building sway in the wind.
I grumbled to myself as I wander agitatedly back into the bedroom. I knew I could buy some more, but that cost money, money I could be spending on boozing up with Judey tonight. We were supposed to be celebrating a happy moment. It was Judey's thirty-first birthday and he had lost weight and become fitter in the past year. So instead of celebrating getting old, we were celebrating becoming perfect examples of how as your age increases, your looks don't have to decrease! Bloody Hooker, ruining the moment. He knew how much I depended on it, the only reason he hid it was because he gets a perverse thrill when we have to do things the manual way. And he knows that when I come home tonight I'm going to be drunk and won't think to remind him about it. And if that happens there could be serious consequences, and I'm not ready to deal with those sorts of consequences yet.
My cell rings and I dive into my handbag for it. It's Judey.
"Hey," I pant out in frustration.
"Wow, what's wrong honey? Hooker treating you bad? Don't worry about him, we're going to go out tonight and we're going to have some fun, so come on I'm downstairs waiting for you." There are times when Judey always seems to know just what to say to make me feel a lot better. Well maybe not a lot better in this case, this was a saga war between me and Hooker and it's going to take a lot of talking and booze to make me feel a lot better.
"Be down in five," I reply.
With one last mad dash to grab everything I needed, except that, I rushed into the elevator, yelling out to my coward of a boyfriend as I pass the blackout curtains.
The Elevator. I have a Love-Hate relationship with this elevator. I hate it because going up feels like you're going to fly off into space, and going down feels like you're falling into the pits of hell. And I love it because I don't have to take the stairs. If thirty-two flights of stairs weren't that hard to walk up and down, I'd take the stairs. But since thirty-two flights of stairs are quite difficult to walk up I have to take the elevator.
I cling desperately to the rails along the sides of the elevator as I plummet downwards. On the twenty-fifth floor the elevator slows and stops. As the doors open, I am tempted to run out of the doors and stay there cowering in a tight ball. I am just thinking this when a man enters and presses the button for the bottom floor. He stares at me for a bit, and I can understand why. My bleached-blond hair has been teased out; my lips are dark red and match the spaghetti strap (extremely short) dress that shows off my legs that go all the way from my ass to the floor. My heels are practically stilts and I have enough makeup on my eyes to make me look sexy and sultry (not enough to make it whorish). I couldn't blame him for staring, if I was a guy I'd stare too.
The elevator started moving again and my thoughts were once again drawn to the thought of inevitable death by riding in this bloody metal thing. He was talking, and I think he just introduced himself. Oh dear I missed it, it was Johnny or Jack or something starting with a J, or a K or a P… G… N… T maybe? Oh well, doesn't matter.
"Hi," I say, a little nervously (the elevator is still moving after all). He chuckles. I scowl; "find something amusing buster?" this was the grease monkey inside me talking. The grease monkey had a lot of balls, after all, grease monkey grew up in a garage in Baltimore, and it don't take no 'tude from anyone (for those who don't know 'tude is attitude).
"Not at all," his voice was deep and rumbly, and I didn't believe him, "though I've never heard of 'Hi' being a name before." I blushed. He was handsome in a non-Hooker like way, more like Judey, only not gay (his pores were huge).
"My name's Barney," I mumbled, realizing too late that I should have said Alex. Damn that Hooker and his insistence on calling me Barney! He shook my hand with a look of mock soberness.
"Pleased to meet you Barnnney," he emphasized. I rolled my eyes, but I was enjoying myself, I decided that if Hooker was going to be a pain in he ass and hide my things, I was going to have some fun. It's not like I was going to do anything, I was just going to flirt a little, then tell him about the Elevator Guy that came onto me. And maybe any other guy that comes on to me tonight. Maybe that will set him straight. It's not like I'm desperate for a man's attention and Hooker is the only guy who will give it to me. I mean that would be ridiculous. I could have any guy I wanted (except perhaps Johnny Depp) and I wouldn't even have to try hard to get him.
Just then the doors of the elevator decided to open at ground floor. I hadn't even noticed that we had slowed down. Both of us stepped out of the elevator and strode out of the building. I looked around for Judey's car but couldn't spot it immediately.
"Do you need a lift someplace?" Elevator Man asked.
"Oh…no," I smiled sympathetically at him as I spotted Judey. I waved to him then turned to Elevator Man and apologized (I'm not exactly sure why, I hadn't done anything wrong), "Sorry, but my lift is here."
Practically skipping as I crossed the street to where Judey sat parked, I was grinning broadly. It was payback time Hooker!
"My my, your mood seems to have drastically changed from ten minutes ago. Was it that delicious man you just came out of the building with that did it?" Judey asked peering through the windscreen at Elevator Man, trying to get a better look, "any good?" he continued.
"Big pores," Judey wrinkled his nose at that one, turned on the engine and swung the car out into traffic.
"We'll get a closer look anyway shall we?" it was more of a statement than a question. He slowed down slowly as we passed Elevator Man. He took in the long-sleeved pale green button up shirt, the dark ironed slacks, the dark brown hair cut and styled nicely and the friendly face. All in all, one good package. And Judey agreed if you went by 'mmm-mmm' sound he gave.
"So…you catch his name?" He asked.
"Elevator Man."
"I wonder if he minds being called El."
