She huffs and stalks away to pour another round.
The exterior door behind me creaks open with a rush of warm air and the click of heels. I turn to see who has entered.
Why, hello there.
Straight, chin-length, bleach-blonde hair, dark eyes, and a body that is better acquainted with the gym than mine. I might be dining after all. Would be stupid of me to turn down the chance.
The problem with my job—besides making me an unwilling criminal—is the sporadic schedule. I have a lot of me-time, but when he calls, I have minutes to respond. That poses a problem when it comes to other aspects of my life, like women.
The only reprieve is that tasks are never back-to-back. Since I just finished one, I should have a day or so before I have to be on guard again, and probably months before anything comes of it. I only need an hour with blonde and beautiful, who is currently glancing around the room like she is lost.
She obviously needs directions to my house. It's just right down the street.
I slam back my next round of drinks, confidence warming my insides, and slide off the stool.
As I approach, her eyes catch mine, and a hesitant smile twitches on her lips.
She ducks her head a little. “My friend said to meet her here, but … well, you know how that goes.”
“Your friend has terrible taste.” I step back and gesture at an empty table. “Wanna have a drink while you wait?”
She glances up at me, her hand fingering the industrial piercing in her right ear. “Yeah, I can do that.”
I pull out the chair because I'm a damn gentleman, and she places her purse to the ground and slides her cellphone onto the table as she sits. She's wearing tight blue jeans, a white top, and this little dark half-jacket thing. Her eyes are heavy with black makeup. She's pimped out like a rockstar. Haven't had the bad girl special in a while. The night is promising.
I force my attention back to the conversation. “What you like to drink?”
“Just a coke,” she says.
I halt. “What is this, an A.A. meeting?”
“Ha.” She quirks her lips. “I don't know if I'm the D.D. Not sure what my friend is up to.”
“There's this cool thing called cabs,” I say. “Someone picks you up and drives you home. You should check it out.”
She gives a tight smile, but her eyes are laughing. I'm golden.
“You sure you just want a coke?”
“Yeah, positive.” She cracks a grin and shoos me away with one hand.
I stroll up to the bar and lean over it. “Hey, Maude?”
The gallivanting grandma turns around, face flashing with anger. “You better not been calling me that, boy.”
I shrug.
Her gaze darts to my lovely lady, then back at me. The frown lines pull down her mouth. I try to think of a joke about preferring eggs with breakfast, but I'm a bit tipsy. Didn't realize it until now that my brain won't jumpstart.
Whatever.
“Regular coke and one with rum, please,” I say.
After she fills the glasses, she sets them in front of me and smirks. “At least you won't be the only virgin at that table now.”
She saunters away.
Hater.
I grin and carry the drinks back to my pending main course. Somehow, I manage not to slosh them. A killer's hand is a steady hand.
I laugh, even though it's really not funny, and place the glasses on the table.
Miss Rockstar looks up from her cellphone and then sets it down. “What you got?”
I slide into the seat opposite of her. “Rum and coke.”
“Where's the straws?” She peers down into her cup. “You sure you didn't accidentally switch the cups?”
“Is your sponsor here or something?”
She rolls her eyes and takes a careful sip. After a moment, she nods and drinks longer. Alright, so maybe she isn't a party-animal, but she looks like a bad ass and I bet she's awesome in bed.
“So, what's your name?” I sit straight in my chair, hoping I don't look too intoxicated.
Which I am, of course. Probably a good idea to lay off the alcohol for a bit.
“Syd.” Her phone buzzes, and she picks it back up.
Her nails are painted different colors and designs. A small black star is tattooed on the knuckle of her ring finger. Wonder if she would let me play scavenger hunt for the rest of the ink on her body. I promise to be thorough.
She frowns at her phone.
“Stood up?”
“Yeah. Hey, look, I'm gonna go pay for my drink and head out.” She reaches down for her purse as she stands.
I sit forward. “Why? Where you gonna go?”
She shrugs one shoulder, her gaze scanning the bar and her frown deepening. “A club, probably.”
“People still go to those?” I shake my head.
She lowers her gaze to me. “Well, people who can't stand all the excitement here, I guess.”
I laugh. “Okay, fair enough. Finish your coke first?”
She glances at her drink, then settles into her chair again.