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Chapter 15
He was loud. He was obnoxious. And he was sitting at my bar.
I had vowed to myself upon starting my shift that I would focus my emotions and steady my resolve. I had a job to do, and no matter how charming my target could be, his termination was still my main objective. I was a professional. Emotion had no control over me. I realized how untrue such a belief was when presented with the lout in front of me.
The opening shift had started off per usual. I restocked the wells, cleaned up the remnants of last night's shift, and attended to the patrons who were still accustomed to alternative hours. Although Omega had no distinct day or night cycles, Aria kept a strict schedule and those of us in her employ functioned within and around it. She was the chrono by which we set our designs.
He strode in as if he owned the lounge, cocky swagger reeking of ego as he made his way to the bar. I sighed inwardly, still disturbed by last night's emotional quandary, reluctant to engage this new irritant. I paid him little mind, filling his order with minimal effort, and then proceeded to ignore him as best I was able. My attempts, however, were futile.
His manner was obnoxious and his complaints were many. After taking the first sip of his beverage he bemoaned the lack of alcohol and attentive service. After finishing his second drink, his gravelly voice grated on my nerves, harsh and disapproving. After filling his third drink, I was subject to his deprecating humor, his criticisms of the establishment, and overall disapproval of Omega. I grew irate.
Sickened by his behavior and with my own lack of restraint, I grabbed the bottle of bourbon and slammed it down next to him. "You, sir, disgust me. Serve your damn self!"
A corner of his mouth curled up into a wry smile. "Why thank you, my dear. Perhaps I was wrong about the service after all?"
I breathed deeply, steadying myself and calming my nerves, the knowledge of the knife tucked in my boot ever present in the forefront of my mind. As much as silencing him appealed to me, I had no desire to stain the counter with his blood. Human blood was difficult to clean up, and I felt no need to exact the added effort. Instead, I escaped to the opposite end of the bar, leaving my counterpart to address the lout's needs.
My attempt at peace was in vain as he followed, making himself once more comfortable on the barstool directly in front of me. I tossed my towel onto my shoulder and met his eyes with a steely glare of my own.
"What." I stated bluntly, my breath steady, my nerves even. He would not get the better of me.
"I wanted to be close to you." Sarcasm dripped from his lips as the infuriating smile returned to his face.
"That's not going to get you free drinks," I shot back and was rewarded with a bark of laughter.
He shook his head in mock disappointment, his eyes never leaving mine. The dim lights of the club shadowed his features, the angular line of his jaw sharpened only by the flash of the erratic iridescence from the railing. He cocked a dark eyebrow, teeth sparkling white in the flickering shadows.
"That won't stop me from trying."
I sighed, doing nothing to hide my annoyance. I had dealt with characters such as him before, who although exasperating at times, soon abandoned their coy attempts and wandered elsewhere. I expected him to be no different.
I was wrong.
He remained seated at the counter well into my shift, sipping slowly from his latest drink, tempo decreased dramatically from his earlier pace. Curious, I questioned him.
"There's actually alcohol in my glass now," he quipped.
"You, sir, are drinking bourbon straight."
Again that infuriating smile returned. "Exactly."
I busied myself with the few duties I could find, aching for distraction from the obnoxious individual who seemed determined to pester me. I had cleaned the wells, cleaned the counter, and cleaned the floors. I had sent my counterpart away so as to manage the bar alone, but no crowds were forthcoming, and the lounge remained relatively empty. I cursed my foul luck and racked my brain for other chores with which to busy myself.
Although cleaning the lounge would have been an option, I had trapped myself behind the counter when I sent the other bartender away. I met the lout's eyes once more and swore under my breath. That damnable smile returned, white teeth flashing again as he looked at me expectantly.
"Come drink with me." He patted the counter in front of him almost playfully. "Or are you not allowed?"
Ignoring his teasing tone, I sighed again, reluctantly filling a glass. I did not drink because he suggested it, but rather because I wanted to. Perhaps a bourbon shooter would dull the irritation his continued presence seemed to evoke.
I tossed my head back, the smooth liquid burning slightly as it went down and pooling in my belly. Warmth permeated my core, suffused my limbs, and I poured another. He held up his glass in a mock salute and I topped it off unthinking. Another smile graced his lips, absent malice, absent ego; a simple smile for an unexpected treat.
We drank in uncomfortable silence, his obnoxious behavior conspicuously absent now that he held my attention. I had few other options to pass the time and so attempted to engage him in conversation, reluctant as I was. He cocked an eyebrow at my attempt, setting his empty glass before me for another refill. I complied, awaiting his response, a mix of irritation and boredom stirring within.
He held his glass up as if inspecting the contents, the flickering lights throwing oddly colored shadows across his face. "Shall we have a contest?"
I frowned, unsure if I wanted to pursue my attempts at meaningless conversation if this was to be the result. "What kind of contest?"
He gestured broadly to the lounge behind him, the wry smile polluting his countenance. "A drinking contest, of course. What other possible contest would one have in a bar?"
"How delightfully juvenile," I murmured. Once more a sigh of annoyance escaped my lips and I set my empty glass aside. "I've got work to do. I'm not about to get drunk."
His grin broadened teasingly. "Suddenly shy, are we?" He nodded as if in understanding. "I wouldn't risk losing either, if I were you. Humiliation is a painful burden to bear."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, unwilling to provide him with the satisfaction, the knowledge of how truly irritated I was. My exasperation would only serve to heighten his pleasure, enlarge his ego, and his antics would most likely increase exponentially. Instead, I set my glass in the auto-wash and began scrubbing the counters down once more.
He frowned, the wry smile fading. "Didn't you already do that?"
"I told you I have to work."
He shrugged, uncaring, and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by an approaching drunk, one of several patrons who had arrived earlier in my shift.
"Barkeep!" she shouted over the counter.
I swallowed my disdain and shot her a questioning look.
"We want to dance. Turn up the music!"
I nodded, grateful for the distraction, and increased the volume as requested. Bass thundered through the lounge, and she laughed gleefully, dancing in time to the music and waving to her comrades. I watched as she stumbled onto the dance floor with the rest of her party, not at all enviable of the withdrawals she would experience in the near future. Overindulgence was an activity I had never quite understood.
I returned to my duties, ignoring the lout as best I was able, made all the easier by the deafening rumble of the music. He futilely continued in his attempts to gain my attention, only desisting when I crossed to the other side of the bar. His eyes followed me, but I cared not. Remaining aloof was not always a façade.
Another hour crawled by and still he remained. He flagged me down for a refill of his drink and I grudgingly complied, willing him to vacate the area and leave me be. He contemplated his glass momentarily before shouting at me over the din of the music.
"What are you doing after work?"
It took a moment for me to register his words and even longer to understand his meaning. I paused in my duties and considered him. "What do you care?"
Once again he smiled wryly and met my gaze, eyes sparkling as the lights of the lounge flashed. "I thought we could, perhaps, have a proper conversation?"
"Not likely," I snorted, returning to my chores. "I have plans."
"Oh?" He cocked an inquiring eyebrow. "And who's the lucky fellow might I ask?"
My temper flared at his audacity, his teasing tone still recognizable over the music. I'm sure my irritation was plainly visible to him and his smile brightened. My patience was running thin and my frustration got the better of me.
"His name's Guy," I stated curtly. "Now if you'll excuse me I've got work to do."
He burst out laughing and I was painfully aware it was at my expense. The mirth was plain on his face and he did nothing to hide his amusement.
"Guy? His parents must have been quite the imaginative types I suspect." Another round of laughter spilled from drunken lips, and he shook his head as if in resignation. "I'm sure they had fond hopes of mediocrity for him, this Guy."
Indignation, pure and simple rippled through my body and I stilled, defensive. "As if your name's any better."
His laughter died, fading into the noise of the music surrounding us. Satisfaction warmed my veins and I once more wiped the counter down, eyeing the lout sidelong. I had finally managed to shut him up, and although I wasn't exactly sure how I had accomplished such a feat, I was nonetheless contented with his sudden disquiet.
I watched as he downed the rest of his beverage and quickly stood, straightening his jacket. He paid his tab without a word, any hint of his wry smile absent, and departed. I was left behind the counter as before, alone, a mix of confusion and relief brewing within. I was not sorry that he had left, but curiosity bade me question why he did so in such a hurried manner. I would likely never know as I doubted I would ever see him again.
It was not long thereafter that my shift ended and I returned to my apartment, readying myself for the night ahead. I took a roundabout route home, wary of the unfamiliar vagrants and vendors lining the streets. The garish glow from Omega's industrial lights lit my path and did little to obscure the grime of the alleys, almost emphasizing it at times.
I completed my usual ritual upon entering my apartment and, satisfied that no one had trespassed, I stripped off my clothes and showered. The compartment was tiny and I often banged my elbows against the walls, but it was a luxury that few apartments could claim. I had running water - hot water at that - and fluffy towels with which to dry. There were few amenities in which I took greater pleasure. Although I still occasionally longed for the large tub in Arch's rooms in which I used to soak, I contented myself with my present surroundings, satisfied in the knowledge that I had earned it. The shower, the apartment, the fluffy towels belonged only to me.
Tossing aside my towel I dressed, choosing a modest outfit suited to the shy persona I had created for Guy. He seemed an interesting enough man, courteous and cultured, charming and worldly. He was the exact opposite of the lout in the lounge. Irritation flared anew as memories of his antics surfaced, his cocky swagger, his wry smile. I despised the fact that he had annoyed me so, affected me, and elicited such stirrings within. Between the lout and Guy I realized I was in dire need of regaining emotional control. I was not about to let such men be my undoing.
As much as I understood men's pleasures, their desires, they still confounded me and I wondered if I would ever be able to fully comprehend them. They prided themselves on bravery and yet I knew many who cowered before my blade ended them. These same men pursued women of standing and breeding, but often preferred the company of strippers and whores. They murdered, they stole, they conspired and betrayed, but still they grew upset when their honor was called into question. Their very nature was a dichotomy and almost all species of men seemed to share these traits. I had yet to meet an exception.