Chapter Four: Conversation over Drinks

Author's Note: At long last, Chapter Four. Sorry it took so long, I've been swamped with working on a speech and a 9 page report for school. Enjoy!

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Dating Michael Duke? The words didn't seem to register. How could an angel like her date a bastard like him? From what he had seen of Satine, she was sweet, kind, and good. Michael was exactly the opposite. Maybe he had found a flaw with the new object of his affection. She must be stupid.

He ordered another drink to drown his sorrow in and mournfully watched Satine as she approached Michael and his group of monkeys. The blonde slid an arm around Satine waist, drawing her in for a deep kiss. His hands slid down to her ass and he squeezed a handful of flesh. She visibly jerked and pushed at him.

Chris straightened. Trouble in paradise? Maybe Satine wasn't stupid after all. A new scenario took place in his mind. She would be a damsel in distress and he would be her knight. Just as he was about to stand and descend to the dance floor, he realized that she wasn't such a damsel in distress after all.

Michael hadn't quite taken the hint and was still trying to French his girlfriend. She seemed disgusted and said something to him. Of course, Chris couldn't hear what was said, but neither seemed happy. A few of Duke's goons started snickering. Seeing that his reputation was at stake, he grew very red and slapped Satine.

Infuriated and hurt, Satine rammed her knee into Michael's groin and, amidst the delighted whooping of the other jocks, she strode away, head held high. "Bitch!" Michael called after her, half bent over in pain.

Chris froze in his seat as she appeared on the balcony and walked past where the two were seated. She made her way over to the bar and sat next to the wall, trying to hide the bright red welt that was forming on her cheek.

Kara McDeere appeared at his side, bending down to whisper to Christian. "If my eyes aren't mistaken, and they seldom are, there's a very pretty young lady sitting at the bar who could use the comfort of a polite and handsome gentleman caller." She winked at him coyly.

"What?" He was amazed at his aunt's intuition. She hadn't even been in earshot when he had mentioned her before. How had she known...?

"Don't play dumb with me, boy. I saw the way you look at her. It's the way Harold looked at me when we first met. Now go on, buy her a drink. She'll appreciate the company."

"But-"

"No buts, mister. Trust me. I'm a professional." She patted his cheek in a very 'aunt-ish' way, then returned to her table, where she had been involved in conversation with her 'Hot Stuff' from earlier.

With a sigh, Chris rose from his seat and brushed himself off nervously, unsure of what to do. It wasn't like he was inexperienced with girls. That was far from the truth. But it was her... and she was so perfect... it had to be just right. He glanced at Henry, silently asking permission to leave, or a blessing to leave. He wasn't sure which.

His little friend simply smiled and waved him away with his drink. For someone who had been so opposed to the thought of drinking, he sure had a lot of empty glasses in front of him. Chris made a mental note to remember to drive him home afterwards.

Hesitating only a moment longer, Chris made his way through the crowd to where Satine was sitting. Fortunately, the seat beside her was still unoccupied. He glanced over the balcony, noticing that Michael was now dancing, quite closely, with some slut who was practically spilling out of her shirt. He slid into the seat next to her. "So, we meet again."

She started, not expecting anyone to speak to her. Few had missed her little stunt on the dance floor. She turned to him, brushing a loose strand of vibrant red hair from her eyes. A smile softened her face. "Oh, you."

He returned the smile. "Yes, that's what most people call me. But you, my lady, can call me Chris."

"Chris. Nice to finally know what to call you."

"And what can I call you?"

"My name's Satine. But please, call me Tina. All my friends do."

He pretended to bow. "I am honored to be considered one of your friends, considering this is the second time we've spoken."

"You made a good impression." She touched her cheek absentmindedly, then winced at the pain.

Reaching out, he cupped her chin in his hand and turned her face, examining the red imprint. "So did someone else, I see."

She turned her face away. "It's nothing." Her tone advised him to leave it alone... for now.

He motioned to the bartender. "Two strawberry daiquiris."

A smile instantly lit up her face. "Those are my favorites!"

Chris frowned as the barkeep put the two drinks down in front of him. "Oh... you thought one was for you?"

This statement flustered her. "No, of course not... I was just saying that I like them... not that I want one..."

With a crooked smile, he slid one of the drinks over to her. "I was kidding."

She accepted it with a sheepish grin. "Thanks." She took a sip, her eyes quietly examining him. Then she spoke again, her mouth half full of strawberry daiquiri. "Moulin rouge."

"What?"

"Your tattoo." Her thin pale finger reached out and touched his arm, lightly tracing the design. "It's French for red windmill."

"I knew that," he countered.

She snickered. "Yeah, right."

"I did! I got it last year after studying France and learning about the Moulin Rouge and the Diamond Dogs. It seemed like such an incredible place."

"Wow, so you're not just a bunch of talk after all."

He winked at her. "Definitely not. For like three months I wanted to go back and time and be able to wear top hats and tuxedoes and dance with the girls."

She raised an eyebrow. "Just dance?"

"Well... one thing can lead to another..."

A knowing smile flickered across her face, just as all the lights in the building changed to red. 'Meet You in the Red Room' suddenly blared through the speakers. Tina got to her feet and held out her hand to Chris. "Dance with me?"

"Of course, my lady." He took her hand and she led him down the stairs to the dance floor, right past Michael and his slut.

Christian couldn't believe it. Tina was so close. Her perfume was intoxicating him almost as much as her looks were. She sang along with the music, purring "Meet you in the Red Room," in his ear in a way that made his knees shake.

"You look like a diamond." Without thinking, the words spilled out of his mouth.

"What?"

"You do." He blushed. "Your shirt, I mean... it makes you look like a sparkling diamond."

She tilted her head to the side, regarding him. "Thanks, Chris." Without warning, she kissed him, pressing her full lips against his. If Tina's arms hadn't been around him, he might have collapsed.

"Wait..." he murmured. She broke the kiss, looking curiously at him. He swallowed. "You're just doing this to get back at him, aren't you?" He could practically feel Michael's glare stabbing him between the shoulderblades.

A sigh escaped her lips. "I'm sorry, Chris. You're a sweet person... I didn't want to hurt you... it's just..."

He held up a hand, cutting her off. "Don't worry about it. Anytime you want to get back at him, I'll be here." He managed a debonair smile before turning and retreating up the stairs to the table where Henry sat. He flopped into his chair, watching painfully as Mike took Tina back into his arms. "I'm screwed, Henry. Officially screwed."

END CHAPTER FOUR