Faking It

Chapter 2

Inside, I was automatically stunned by the beauty of the establishment. On my left stood a long, polished bar of white granite with sleek black stools, hundreds of liquor bottles lined on glass shelves behind the shirt-and-tied bartenders, and sparkling chandeliers that threw a glittering, ethereal light over the many gorgeous, well-dressed patrons. The restaurant section occupied the right half of the building, where happy young couples and businessmen chatted pleasantly over white-clothed tables and glasses of expensive wine.

I was stunned by the poshness of the place, of the fact that Ally frequented this place, let alone invited me here.

“Miss, did you want a table? Are you waiting for the rest of your party?” the thin, brunette hostess dressed in a knee-length burgundy evening dress asked, her manicured hands wrapped around a small stack of menus.

“Oh, I am sorry. No, I am actually going to get a place at the bar tonight, thank you,” I tried to pull it together enough to not appear out of place, but I was sure the hostess could sense that I was unsure. I made an effort to walk slowly and confidently to the bar with a high-chin and straight, erect shoulders. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice me, and I was able to find a set of two empty stools, one of which I perched on.

The bartender was there in an instant and placed a water in front of me. He was handsome, like all the staff members, with dark brown eyes and reddish, short facial hair.

“Welcome in,” he flashed a smile of bright white, perfectly aligned teeth, “What will you be having tonight?”

“A Manhattan, please,” I usually preferred an Old Fashioned, but I sensed that mood of this bar called for the classier bourbon drink, “with your favorite choice of bourbon.”

He smiled again and turned to make the drink. I surveyed the other people at the bar, mostly manicured, attractive 20 to 30-somethings invested in what appeared to be exhilarating conversations with one another over indiscernible, colorful cocktails. I was jolted from the charming atmosphere when my gaze met the eyes of an older, bald man who sat with two other men in business attire at a high-top table adjacent to the bar.

He gave a sneer, which sent a chill down my spine, and leaned over to say something into the ear of one of his companions, without breaking eye contact with me. The other man smiled and nodded his head, his eyes moving up and down my body. I turned away suddenly, looking reflexively at my phone. No word from Ally yet, with five minutes still until she said she would meet me.

I wished suddenly that I had not worn this outfit, not done my hair and makeup and come out here tonight. I yearned to be wrapped in my bed with Bo beside me, binge watching a TV show.

The bartender placed my drink in front of me with a humble nod. I thanked him and took a sip, grateful for the burn of the alcohol in my throat. The joy was short lived, though, when I became suddenly aware of a presence behind me—an arm in a dark grey suit and the smell of expensive, but overbearing cologne. I turned slowly, dreading to face who I already knew stood behind me.

The bald man leaned over the empty chair beside me, his sleeve brushing against my arm before he placed his small, meaty fist on the bar.

“You can put her drink on my house account, Matthew,” he called to the bartender, who nodded his consent without a smile.

“Well, hello there, young lady,” he turned to me, smiling. His mouth seemed as though it contained too many teeth, and his breath was sharp with the bitter smell of gin. Although I was sitting, I could tell that he was short—probably four inches shorter than where I stood, at 5’10 without heels.

“You shouldn’t just pay for someone’s drink without asking them,” I snapped. “I’m not interested in meeting anyone here tonight; I am meeting a friend.”

He feigned offense to my remark, placing a hand over his chest with a fake expression of woundedness.

“Why, I was just doing something nice. I don’t quite understand the hostility,” he leaned closer to me, unsteady on his feet, which made me realize for the first time exactly how drunk he was. “I do like my girls with a little bite, though.”

I recoiled, visibly leaning away from him, my heart pumping. I was strategizing the quickest way to swing my legs out of the seat without bumping into the woman next to me and causing a scene when my phone, mercifully, began to ring. It was Ally.

“Hello?” I picked up on the first ring. I could hear the desperation in my own voice.

“Hey, girl,” she responded. “Are you already there?”

“Yeah, I am here.” I looked at the man, who had leaned back a few inches and was inspecting my face with glazed eyes. “Are you here yet?”

“Damn, I was hoping you weren’t there yet. Here is the thing: I am so sorry, but something came up and we have to run to Lucy’s mom’s house. She had a bit of a fall, nothing bad, but she wants me to run over and check her out. I am so sorry, but I promise we can get together soon…” her voice faded out as I watched the man and began to formulate an escape.

“Okay yeah, no worries at all,” I fought to keep any panic out of my voice, “Send Lucy’s mom my regards, I hope everything is okay.”

Ally apologized a few more times before we ended the call, the bald man’s eyes never breaking from my face.

“Seems like your night suddenly became free,” he was clearly amused. “Now, tell me, what is your name?”

“Listen, I am flattered, but I am really not interested,” I fought to keep my voice firm and as flat as possible, revealing no emotion, “I would just like to finish my drink in peace, please.”

I turned away from him and took another sip of my drink, hoping that ignoring him directly would dissuade him from any further conversation and send him back to his buddies.

“Come on,” he leaned closer to me again, “I don’t know why you are playing so hard to get. Just tell me your name—what is the harm in that?”

I could smell the sweat from under his collar and his breath was beginning to make me nauseous. I thought fleetingly of throwing my drink in his face.

“She said she wasn’t interested, Vainer,” a deep, resounding voice came from behind me. “Move it along.”

I turned towards the sound of the voice and my breath caught in my throat when I saw, in the full light of the chandeliers, the man from the sidewalk. He was even more breathtaking in close proximity. His eyes were a deep blue and his hair was dark and shone with almost imperceptible streaks of copper in the light. He had thick, dark eyebrows that emphasized the angles of his brow bones, and I noticed for the first time the top of what appeared to be a neck tattoo peeking out from under his shirt collar. I hadn’t realized how tall he was until he was standing next to me, dwarfing the little bald man. I knew that I wouldn’t be at his eye level, even in heels. I saw the muscles in his jaw tighten as he looked at the bald man, rage simmering quietly behind his composed, stone face.

“Oh please, Pierce. You don’t have dominion over every single woman in this place,” the bald man took a wobbling step towards the dark-haired stranger, “I put just as much money into this place as your family did.”

“Not every woman, no, just this one,” he rested one of his muscular hands on my shoulder, his fingers brushing against the skin of my neck. “This is my girlfriend, Sophia. You have made a fool of yourself in the way that you have welcomed her.”

The bald man was speechless for a moment, his chubby mouth hanging open. He took a step backwards and shot a nervous glance at the table where his two companions still sat.

“How was I supposed to know that? Since when have you ever had a girlfriend?” he stammered. “Anyway, I was just making conversation.”

“Right, well the conversation is over now, you may go about your night.” His tone finalized the exchange and the bald man pivoted on his unsteady feet and huffed back to the high-top table in the corner.

I turned to the man who had rescued me, and was nearly frozen by the steadfastness of his gaze on my face. His fingers lingered for a moment on my shoulder before he removed them and held out his hand to me.

“I am sorry I left you to fend for yourself, Soph. I didn’t realize we were in such bad company,” his eyes darted over to the bald man. I followed his lead and placed my hand in his. It was enormous and his fingers enveloped my hand in a tight grasp. He helped me off the stool and led me towards the doors. Other people at the bar took notice now, conversations drifted and people spun in their chairs and craned their necks to catch a glimpse of us on the way out.

Outside, we were alone under the glittering light from the windows, besides a few stragglers walking past to one of the many other bars on the street. He released my hand and ran his hand through his hair.