Chapter Three

O'Malley's is quiet tonight, and I'm leaning against the bar. I pick up something sweeter, something enticing, it lurks just beyond the stench of beer and nachos. It's Karen's perfume. I tilt my head slightly but don't move.
A pair of warm hands slide over my shoulders from behind, she gives them a friendly squeeze. I flinch, but force a smile. She has no idea my left shoulder is healing from the thrashing I gave the bartender with the suspicious gun. The creak of the barstool to my right indicates she's sitting next to me.
"Sorry I'm late. Something—"
"Something came up." I finish for her. There's a pause, but it isn't uncomfortable, she has her secrets and I have mine. I'm surprised as her hand finds my jaw.
"Is that a bruise?"
I snap back from her, flustered that I was leaning into her touch. There's another pause. This one's awkward. Great.
"I-I tripped over. Caught my jaw on the kitchen counter." A sheepish smile is on my lips, by trip I mean I was kicked in the face and by kitchen counter, I mean by a freakin' ninja. The Hand have sent their men for me twice over three months. Their goal is to send a message. And each time, they somehow land more of a beating but never manage to unnerve me. I'm winning. The thought of Elektra slips into my mind, and as quickly as it appears, I push it aside. What am I doing? Karen is right here.
"Drinks?"
"And games." I suggest.
"Awesome." She says, not bothering to hide her excitement. It's the way she lets her guard down for fleeting moments around me that I love the most. It's almost as though her secrets disappear when she's with me, and I like that version of Karen. The happy Karen in a safe world, with no demons. It's moments like these I catch myself, I really do care about her.
I can hear her scraping the chalk against the billiard stick.
"Ladies first." She taunts at me as I wave a hand to the bartender. I know he's seen me from the way his footsteps approach.
"Two more." I say. His footsteps recede. I turn my body so I'm facing Karen and I wait for beat. She presses the cue stick into my hand and says, "Come on, I'll show you how."
I give her a wry smile.
"You should know…" I say slowly as I line up the billiard stick. She's guiding my hands and is pressed up behind me, I can feel her pulse, smell her soft, freshly shampooed hair as it dangles over my forearm making my heart pound.
"I was billiard champion in college." I whisper into her ear as I jab the stick. The smooth whir of balls sliding across velvet followed by several dull thuds makes me smirk. Nailed it.
Karen lets out a laugh in disbelief.
"Surprised?" I probe, hoping for something.
"Concerned." She shoots back, her guard is up but its playful.
"Aw, so you worry about me." I grin at her, giving her my most charming smile.
"Not bad for a blind guy." She says, then takes the cue stick while I gather the balls and set up the table using calculations and textures to identify the dimples on the fabric.
"My charm?" I ask.
"Your billiard skills!" She exclaims. I did it. I flustered her, and I like it.
"Want me to show you how I do it?"
There's a pause.
"Do your worst." She quips, and I approach her. Music plays softly, glasses and bottles clink now and then as gentle chatter becomes an inaudible slew of sound. And all I can feel is her warmth and all I can taste is her perfume. My hands cover hers.
"Softly…" I whisper, concentrating. She grows tense in my hands. I slowly draw back her arm, and we push the cue forward. The same sound of billiards rolling across fabric, followed by a few thuds. It's when I count the number of balls I potted, that I realise I missed and it's because I was stood so close to her. She turns on her heel, "Sabotage!" She starts to accuse me but for some reason, she trails off. We're still standing as close as we were when I was showing her how to play.
There's so much tension between us, and yet, neither of us moves. Her hand finds my cheek again, and it feels so cool. Either she's cold or I'm the one burning up for once and I think it's the latter.
"Billiards…" A well-spoken accent interjects. "You're getting rusty Matthew." Karen whips her hand away and I freeze. The voice makes every cell in my body stand up and pay attention.
Elektra.
 "So this…" I hear her say as she approaches us, "is why I was thrown out so unceremoniously the other night?" I squirm. I can hear that smile again, her voice goes slightly higher when she smiles.
"Not bad…I mean, I'd do the same. You're very pretty." She's talking to Karen now.
"And you are?"
"And I am too." Elektra retorts with that smugness I resent so much.
"Matthew and I go back, way back. To some pretty hot and heavy—."
Oh dear God…
I do the only thing I can to stop her from talking. "—This is Elektra. We were close in college."
"We dated in college, amongst other things."
If I could glare at her, I would. By other things, she means we were trained by Stick but she chose to become a mercenary. I chose Hell's kitchen.
"Why so coy, Matthew?" Now I feel Elektra's hand on my cheek, and I step back, pulling away.
"Tomorrow at ten, on the corner of seventh and ninth, look alive." She says then her sure footsteps stalk away from us.
Karen's voice is low, "what the hell was that?"
"That… was my ex."
There's a pause, this one is the most awkward one we've had.
Then she just says, "wow."
"Yeah…" I cringe.
"There's one way to kill the mood." She says with a nervous laugh, and I realise something in Karen has changed. Within moments, her guard is back up.
"It doesn't have to." I'm suggesting but Karen is already putting distance between us. There's the creak of the barstool again, I hear a glass scuff the bar top followed by a gulp, followed by a second scuff. She's downed both of our drinks.
"So…" She's saying, "I should go."
And it's the last thing I wanna hear, especially over Elektra.
"No, Karen. Please." I ask gently, she got my heart in her hands and she knows it. All those bittersweet nothings over the past few months, all the flirting, banter and accidentally brushing past each other, has led to this… her leaving me in a bar. Because of Elektra.
"You're sweet." She says and I'm shaking my head, I can't think of the words but I don't want her to go.
"I'll see you tomorrow." She concludes, and there it is. The nail in our proverbial coffin.
God damn it, Elektra…
 As Karen Page leaves me standing in her wake, I slump onto the barstool and bury my head in my hands.