Cactus Juice
The music was loud and obnoxious, the patrons were somewhat over-sexualized, and the drinks poured freely, and it was Zuko's job to keep them hydrated. Because no one left The Panda Lily entirely sober.
He sighed, and looked around. People trawled over his nice clean bar, flirting detestably; gurgling down the drinks he had so carefully made for them. He squinted, and wrung out the towel he kept under the bar in a bucket with bleach to wipe up the spittle of a wiped out drunkard nearby. His glass of Red Bull and vodka (which was probably the cause of his wipeout) spilled out and over the onyx-colored bar.
No one has respect for the bartender. Tom Cruise movies lie, he thought grimily as he mopped up the mess and shouted for security to find the guy's friends or someone to take him home.
"Hey! You!" Zuko turned neatly, hoping to look at least a little intimidating with his black jeans and t-shirt, his scar visible beneath his hair.
"What can I make you?" he asked, feigning politeness.
"Can ya-can ya make me a Hurricane?" asked the young man, head shaved, grey eyes a little bloodshot, which constantly blinked, trying to focus.
"Are you legal?" he asked, peering down at the patron. He seemed no older than eighteen. Zuko shouted for security. "Boulder, find this kid a cab! He's wasted!" The big, somewhat-gruff guard came and took the young man off his hands. Zuko was just about to wash the kid's fingerprints off of his spotless bar when a flash of a narrow waist and wide hips caught his sight.
He turned, and his eyes widened subtly.
The young woman was just about as hot as hell. Nicely filled out and padded and not particularly tall, her skin was the color of the crème de cacao he used to make cocktails with. Her eyes sparkled the color of Jones Berry Soda, and her hair, oh her hair! It tumbled down in dark waves, only half-way pulled back. Faintly, his eyes traveled down the hourglass figure, from the notch in the neck of the blue bohemian-print dress belted around her narrow waist that showed just enough to be sexy, but not enough so that she blended in at the Moulin Rouge, down to the navy gladiator sandals that tied in bows around her plump legs.
What I'd give to have those legs over my shoulder tonight, he thought hungrily, and put on his smoothest grin.
"Hey there. I hear you're pretty skilled at this cocktail business," she said with a flip of her long hair and a cock of her hip.
"What can I get for you, sweetness? A mint julep?" he challenged, smirking.
"Ha. Do I look like Scarlett O'Hara? Gimme a Cactus Juice," she said.
"Really now? Can you handle that?" His good eyebrow may as well have become part of his scalp.
"It's my drink of choice, believe it or not, son."
"Alright, alright," he said roughly, then evened out his tone, "Take a seat, miss." She slithered onto the barstool in front of him, smiling, and placed her elbows on the table to tuck under her chin. This temptress was just daring him to look down her shirt. He smirked again and commenced to making her cocktail.
Let's see, two parts gin, one part Midori, a heavy splash of lime soda, I could do this in my sleep. He tossed the liquid in a cocktail shaker with ice and began to mix it, pulling out a cocktail glass and sticking it in salt.
"So, how'd a nice girl like you wander into a lowbrow place like this?" he asked, pouring her drink into the glass.
"Believe it or not, but it's my brother's fault. Today's his girlfriend's birthday," she said.
"Oh really? And what the birthday girl's poison of choice?" he asked.
"I think she'll like a flirtini, and my brother, well, he'll have a Bloody Mary, heavy on the Tabasco and the cayenne. But they're not going to get their drinks until they come here themselves. I wouldn't leave this bar if you paid me." She seemed to purr at the last thought, and reached out to pay him.
"Oh no, this one's on me," he said, taking her hand to his lips and putting the glass on the counter. Her dark skin pinked slightly as he placed a lime on the glass as a garish.
Carefully, Zuko watched her as she placed the rim to her plump lips. Her eyes closed in delight as it hit her tongue.
"Mmm…perfect. You make a mean drink, sir," she said, licking her lips.
"Thanks, but your favorite is my easy. Call me Zuko, by the way," he said, grinning.
"Oh, then what's your favorite?" She licked her glass, pink tongue sticking slightly to the salt as she took another sip.
"Me, I'm a Kansas Slammer sort of guy, but of course, my break's not for a another ten minutes, so I couldn't indulge in one, beautiful."
"Really now? Join me on the dance floor then?"
He blinked, and glanced at his watch. Calmly, the succubus in front of him sipped at her drink, looking at him with those liquid azure eyes. He debated, looking from his watch, to the window where his boss would be watching, and back to her.
"Hell, I'll take my break now!" He dropped his black apron on a stool under the sink, and shouted to the bartender at the end, "Haru! I'm going on break!" He practically vaulted over the bar entrance to get to her.
"But before I go to all this trouble, can I have a name?" He gave his best smile.
"Katara."
Katara. Who knew three syllables could be so gorgeous?
Thumping bass pounded through the floor as she led him into the throng of people, heady with scent of sweat. Her hand was small and callused lightly on the palms, the fingertips smooth and plump. His heart was racing; where the blood was going, who knew?
