Disclaimer : 'The girl at the bar' is mine. Nothing else.
Author's Note : So, I returned from my fanfiction abscence and found this chapter uploaded and ready to go. So here it is.
It's been so long I've pretty much forgotten where I was going with this. But, I like it. So I'm going to try and carry on. But it may take a while to update as I'll be working out where it's going all over again. I hope you enjoy this installment for now!
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Chapter 2 : Sonny's"No shit OC," Mark replied, when he found his voice again. He suddenly realised exactly what he was staring at and quickly averted his gaze, his cheeks flushing pink. "C'mon, lets get out of here."
"Are you kidding me?" OC looked at him in bemusement. "You seriously want to leave?"
"Yeah, of course. I hate places like this."
"Er, Johnson, places like this have naked chicks. What is there to hate?"
"I just do."
"Are you sure you aren't gay?"
Mark emitted a slight growl. "No, OC, I'm not gay. I just find the idea of women selling their bodies pretty disturbing, and damn right wrong. And depressing, come to think of it."
OC was staring at him, almost as if he expected him to laugh and say "Gotcha!" But he didn't. "Whatever, Johnson." OC shook his head. "Run back home like a good little boy if you want, I'm staying here."
Mark now knew that he'd been spot on with OC's attitude. He could also tell that when in search of some fun, he could be extremely stubborn, and would only do what he thought would be good entertainment. In the mood he was in now, a strip club seemed to be OC's idea of perfect entertainment. But Mark could also tell he was way out of his depth.
'Dammit OC, why'd you have to bring me here,' he thought. 'I'm such an idiot; I coulda just left him at O'Reilly's. But nooo, I had to play the hero.' Although he was berating himself, Mark knew deep down that he could never have let OC walk off alone from the bar. And he knew just as well that he couldn't leave him here.
As OC headed to the bar for drinks, Mark went to grab a table. He chose one as far away from the dancing poles as possible. He'd never been in a place like this before, and didn't know what to expect, but he was uncomfortable as hell.
As he perched on a chair, ready to flee at the first hint of trouble, his gaze settled on OC at the bar. He was leaning forward, elbows resting on the surface, talking to the barwoman. She didn't seem particular interested as she filled a pitcher with beer for him, and once she'd taken his money moved straight onto the next customer. OC shook his head as he returned to Mark.
"Mardy cow," he muttered. "All I did was ask if she'd be up there next." He gestured to a pole that was erected on the bar. As if summoned by his words, a woman pulled herself up onto the bar, barely wearing a thong and tiny bikini top. The song changed to an upbeat tempo, and the men in the room cheered as she started to swing herself around the pole.
Mark barely even noticed. The girl at the bar was consuming his attention. She worked quickly and fluidly, practically turning serving the drinks into a dance. As he watched she set up a row of shot glasses and grabbed a bottle of liquor, tossing it in the air and catching it with the other hand before twirling it round in her fingers, flicking up the lid, and pouring it into the glasses.
After a few seconds, OC noted the intense focus of Mark's eyes. Thinking he was staring at the pole dancer he grinned, nudging him. "I thought you didn't like the idea of women being cheapened like this."
"Huh? Oh, no, I don't. I wasn't looking at her."
"Then who?"
"The barwoman." Mark groaned inwardly as the words slipped out. 'Idiot.' As he had expected OC latched onto the comment right away, leaning in with a mischievous glint in his eye and a smirk at his lips.
"You're hot for the chick working the bar? Go give it a shot, you might have better luck than me."
"Not hard," he shot back. "At least I know how to talk to girls."
"Except you don't, because you never pick them up."
"Fine. I know how to talk to girls who aren't slutty enough to let themselves be picked up in a bar by some hotshot hockey player."
"Wow, you do have anger issues after all. I knew you must do, being a hockey player and all…it just took OC's master charm and wit and get it out of you."
Mark rolled his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself."
"So are you gonna go talk to her?"
"Hmmm, let me think about it….no."
OC reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. "Go buy a round, Johnson." Mark started to protest. "Go!"
Grumbling to himself about being a pushover, Mark dragged himself from his seat and crossed the room, trying to avoid making contact with the other customers. He felt so sleazy just being in the place.
Stepping up to the bar, Mark suddenly realised the gyrating thronged bottom of the pole dancer was mere inches from him head. He quickly took a few steps sideways, before the girl behind the bar turned to him.
"What can I get ya?" she asked, no hint of a smile on her face. In fact, she looked positively fierce. Her blue eyes were icy, her face hard.
It took Mark a moment, but he quickly realised she wasn't fierce – she was detached. Her features were soft behind the steely glare, her eyes would no doubt melt to the blue of a summer sky in a different situation, and her blonde hair, though scraped back now, would frame her face. The pink streaks through the bottom layer were sure to look cute rather than edgy. She was detaching herself from the situation, pretending she didn't care that she was working in a place where women sold their bodies for a quick buck, where men ogled her and probably tried to convince her to join the dancers at the poles. Another moment, and Mark had worked out that she wasn't that kind of girl.
"Hello?" she asked impatiently. "I ain't got all night ya know."
"Oh, sorry," he stammered, his attention snapping back to her words. "Can I get a pitcher of beer?"
"Sure thing." She grabbed an empty pitcher from the shelf behind her, then stuck it under the tap. She glanced up the bar – there were no other customers waiting. Looking back at Mark, she seemed to be contemplating whether to strike up conversation or not. "You're not from around here, are you?"
"No. I'm from Wisconsin."
"So what brings you to a place like this?"
"A place like Minnesota? Or a place like this bar?"
"Minnesota," she replied with a slight smile.
"I tried out for the Olympic hockey team."
"You make it?"
"Yeah."
"You seem a little scrawny for a hockey player."
"Doesn't hold me back," he shrugged.
"Now, the bar. You seem like a nice kid – what're you doing at a seedy dump like this?"
"My team-mate…he's kinda gone off the rails a little tonight," Mark told her, gesturing towards OC. The girl's eyes narrowed.
"You're with that jerk?"
"I said he was my team-mate, not my friend."
The girl finally cracked the first real smile Mark had seen. He decided it suited her. "You have attitude."
"You sound surprised."
"I am. No offence, but you come across as kind of a wimp."
"Gee, thanks."
"No, I didn't mean it like that. I mean – oh, I can't explain it. You're different to everyone else that comes in here. Quieter, shyer, politer. You haven't tried to chat me up or slip me some cash, which normally happens. Which is a good thing."
"You don't like people slipping you cash?"
"Not for what they're trying to get me to do for it. Just cos I work at this place doesn't mean I want to pimp myself out. I come to work, I serve some drinks, I pick up the pay cheque that I've earned, and I go home. I don't want anything more. And anyone who tries to get anything more from me can get the fuck outta here."
"Nice way of thinking."
"Don't be sarcastic, it doesn't suit you."
"I wasn't!" he protested. "Honestly."
"Hmmm." She eyed him suspiciously. "I believe you. Anyway, I gotta go serve these perverts. I'll see you around." She started to move away, then turned back. "Well, actually, I don't expect you'll ever come back to this shit hole. And I don't blame you."
"I'd come back to see you."
"Don't push your luck," she warned him, but was clearly trying to suppress laughter. "I just told you, I don't like guys who hit on me. And I was just starting to like you, which doesn't happen around here very often."
"I'll count myself lucky then."
"So you should, er…"
"Mark," he supplied. There was a silence. "This is the part where you give me your name?"
"I said I was starting to like you, not that you're important enough to know my name." She winked at him and moved up the bar to the waiting customers.
Sighing, Mark picked up the pitcher and made his way back to OC. Luckily, he hadn't got himself into any trouble while Mark had been away. The next hour was whiled away drinking beer, and by Mark refusing to answer any of OC's questions about what had happened at the bar. He kept insisting there was nothing to tell.
Eventually, much to Mark's relief, OC got bored and decided to call it a night. Thankful that this whim of his was ending, and still wishing he'd never been caught up in it, Mark followed him out into the cool night air. They walked back along the front of the building that housed the bar. It was a long building, split into several different places inside. An alleyway ran down the end and then down the back, serving all the places that were housed inside. As Mark and OC passed the end of the alleyway, they heard a shriek.
Looking at each other, their eyes silently questioned what it was. The sound came again, this time a full-blown scream. Mark suddenly registered that it was a girl screaming, and without thinking he ran down the narrow alley. At the end he found a pile of black bin bags, with two guys in dark clothing leaning over them. Realising a girl was being pushed down by the two men, Mark grabbed the jacket of the nearest one, trying to haul him back. He whirled around, lashing out with his arm, catching Mark across the face. Mark stumbled back into OC, but quickly reattempted stopping the men. OC was at his side, but the two were hopelessly outweighed. Luckily, help was at hand.
The two bouncers from the entrance to the bar had been alerted by the scream, and the disappearance of Mark and OC. Hurrying down the alley, they used their considerable size to grab hold of the two assailants and drag them away from Mark, OC and the girl. With a sigh of relief, Mark quickly turned to the victim, who was sobbing quietly on the pile of bin bags. One of the bouncers shone a torch into the dark corner, and it was with shock that Mark realised the girl was the girl from the bar.
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A/N : I'm enjoying writing this story sooooooo much! I'm glad you guys like it too.
Klinoa : YAY for Johnson fics! Wahoo. He's so cute to write. I love the fact that with focusing on him, I can have the way he acts with other people, but then the way he thinks as well, which is different to how he is outwardly….
Hockeyfan68 – Johnson fic, woot ! It is certainly going to be a rocky ride! Should be an interesting one though. And he is such a cutie!
Emador : Intriguing still?
Meadow567 : Hmmm. I was really confused about the rating – I've made it PG13, as although there will be some issues in it, it won't be explicit etc. There may be one or two chapters which will specifically be rated R though. If anyone thinks the rating should go back up, please tell me!
Killerkeanegirl : A strip club just seemed like it would be fun :) and yay, we can be Johnson loving buddies together….hehe.