Chapter 17
1035 Words
Chapter 17
Jake's POV,
“Really?”
“I was wondering if I can get his number, after my dad passed away, I lost all contacts with him.”
“I can get you his business card.”
“I'll be grateful. He’ll be so sad to know his friend passed away.”
Surprisingly enough the bartender brought him a business card. Whoa, their chemistry and the eye contact are burning the temperature.
“Thanks,” she smiled kissing a tissue and writing down random numbers on it. “My number.” She gave it to him. “Call me when your shift is over, we can spend a greater night.”
She looks so out of character, I mean a cop flirting with a bartender in a club, exchanging numbers. It’s funny. It’s kinda funny. Yeah, I'll just drink and maybe sit somewhere else, no matter how funny it might be, I don’t want to be a part of it any more than I'm forced to, already. “Jake,” my eyes shot up by her calling my name. “Do you want to go dance?” she follows near my ear, “just say you do.”
“Dance? Yeah sure.” I pulled myself up following her to the middle of the stage. We are dancing but the man from across the bar kept giving her looks, smiling ear-to-ear, if that’s not creepy what is, if someone smile at me like that, I'll literally launch myself away from him and here, Emily is dancing, swaying right to left, rolling waving with her drink in her hands raised playing with her hair, not a care in the world, it’s strange that I find it unexpected when literally everyone was doing just that, all lost in their own world. It’s unexpected but I don’t seem to convince myself to look away. I don’t seem to stop my lips to stretch in an adoring smile, I've ever feels like I've been struck and shaken altogether. She doesn’t look the strict partner anymore, she looks more friendly, approachable, beautiful. I think many guys would want their chance with her tonight, after all who would want to leave a girl alone who can rock the perfect ratio or red and black and shimmer, yet look sophisticated and controlled.
“Why are you laughing?” I read her lips, maybe because I never looked away from them, but her voice lost somewhere in the loud music. Her eyes that looked at me full of curiosity, the eyebrow that raised to wait for my answer. I can't just look at one thing.
I bowed down to her ear, “I didn’t know you can flirt so well too bad he can't dance with you.”
She smiles at my words. Her smile looks different, maybe because she doesn’t smile at all at, and she is smiling now. Maybe it’s her teeth, perfectly straight and white and gummy with lips red, just too perfect. I don’t know what’s different. Why I never realize she was so beautiful? I don’t know, it was something that hinder me from looking anywhere else, just her. “You don’t know anything about me yet. I've had quite a past.”
“Agree on that.” smile’s been plastered on my face, I must look funny. “So, you like that bartender?” I don’t know I should be asking this to her or not, but now it’s done already.
“I'll let you on a secret,” she moved closer like all those people around us might be listening. Well, no one really cares. But who am I to complaint? “If you promise you won't ask how I know it, I'll tell you.”
“Why is this obligation, if I may ask?”
“You can't, it’s either you want to know or you don’t, decide.” We’ve been too close or we won't be hearing each other at all. Her scent is as comforting as I feel rain is. I know there is something weird in this drink and in these lights, I feel— I feel enchanted. I like that we are talking like this, I hate that I'm feeling this way for my partner.
“I want to know.” Her ears grazed by my lips. Where did this static come from, I feel it all over my body? I hope she didn’t feel it too.
“I've known some people who heard this from someone who heard it from someone else…”
“That’s a long train of information. Information usually change when it travel so many ears.” She chuckles at me. I don’t say anything other than a simple nod.
“Every bar or club has one or other kind of illegal activity. Some major like illegal distribution of drugs, forced p**********n, but some clubs do it by letting in minors without checking their ID, serving them alcohol. Whatever illegal things go on here they are always careful against getting caught. There is one trick every bar use, most of it, it’s like their secret code their regular customer use, they never order their drinks, the bartender serve them the one they are given. Second, their ice is always carved by hand.”
“What kind of code and why?”
“The bartender thinks my father is a special customer and he trusted me, all because of the codeword, Tequila.”
“It’s a secret code means no one knows. How do you?” a currant of discomfort plastered her expressions but she soon managed to recover. I don’t think I asked something I shouldn’t.
“Look there.” She pointed up to the menu of drinks painted in the wall behind. “All other drinks have smaller fonts than Tequila, Mimosa and Margarita. Their codeword is Tequila because it’s in the middle.” She is back to being a teacher, with vast spectrum of knowledge she has most of it is actually kind of suspicious. She can open practically any lock, she fights ferociously, she has tattoos and scars on her arms, and she knows a trade secret.
What more is there to know?
- Writer
