1
Enzo
Alcohol.
It can lower your inhibitions.
Transform you into somebody society accepts.
Make you relax enough to ask the hot girl at the end of the bar out on a date.
Alcohol has so much power.
The power to tempt me.
To take me away.
To make me forget.
It should be only an act of rebellion. An underage misdemeanor, done as much for attention as to feel the effects. That’s all alcohol should represent. I’m only seventeen. Still a long ways from twenty-one, but alcohol has never been a healthy pastime.
As soon as I tasted the liquid, I knew it was a habit I would never give up.
Not because I’m an alcoholic. That’s one thing I could never be, even when I drink in large quantities. Even when I need alcohol as much as I need to breathe.
I need it to forget.
I finish the last drop of the amber liquid in my glass. One drink isn’t nearly enough for me to forget. If there were another way to erase my demons and slip me into amnesia, I would take it. But I’ve never found another option. This is my only option.
“Another round,” I say to Zeke and Langston who are sitting in the corner booth with me. It’s not a question, but a statement.
I need more, and they will both stay with me, drinking until my past is erased for another hour.
Slinking out from beneath the corner booth hidden in the shadows, I stand and cross the width of the room before climbing onto a stool at the bar. We have a waiter, but I don’t have the patience to wait for her to realize we need more drinks.
I eye Blake behind the bar. He knows when he sees me to drop his other patrons and serve me immediately. His tip, along with his job, requires it. This is just another bar my family owns. It’s nothing in the grand scheme of things — just a place for me to retreat to when necessary. And lately, I’ve found coming here on a daily basis is very necessary.
Blake spots me out of the corner of his eye. He politely ends his conversation with the flirty woman at the end of the bar and walks my way, before pouring me another glass of the finest bourbon we have. I reach for the glass he sat in front of me and wait while he continues to make drinks for my friends.
I lift the glass to my lips taking comfort in the fact that soon my nightmare will be over. My memory will be obliterated, at least until I have to meet with my father later today.
The door flies open, and a girl falls through. She stumbles once as she drops to her knees. But her cheeks don’t flame with embarrassment. Instead, fear threatens her eyes as she scans behind her. As if, any second, the evil she is running from will find her.
She stands quickly and brushes herself off out of habit, not because she’s dirty. Her skin is a light olive color, but it’s impossible to know what ethnicity she is just from the coloring. We live in Miami; everyone is tan. But her skin hints at more than just spending too much time in the sun. Hers promises a past and culture far more intriguing.
Her legs are too skinny I realize as I soak up her body and ingrain it in my memory like I do with everything. My memory is flawless, and even if it wasn’t, there is no way I would forget such a spark of beauty like her.
Her clothes are too big for her. Her blue jean shorts engulf too much of her legs. Her tank top hangs like a tent instead of showing the curves beneath it. Dark black hair hangs down her neck in thick waves hiding her face.
But then she flips her head back and blows the rest of her locks from her face. Gone is the fear. Gone is the clumsy girl. Gone is the awkward girl uncomfortable in her own skin. I even forget her clothes are two sizes too big.
She’s transformed from meek girl to powerful woman with one toss of her hair. Her steps are bold and robust as she struts toward the bar, only taking her three steps to reach the edge.
She smiles at the bartender, and Blake floats over to her, as under her spell as I am. I don’t know what she says as she whispers to Blake, but I know he will retrieve whatever drink she ordered without verifying her age. And I’m right. Blake slides a beer to her without glancing at her ID. An ID that would either be fake or show she isn’t any older than I am.
Her age doesn’t matter though. The way she looks at him with piercing greenish blue eyes and unending poise is enough to persuade him to risk his job for her.
Blake may be used to serving underage clients, but that’s only because of me. I’ve never seen him serve anyone unassociated with me who’s so clearly a minor.
The girl lifts the glass to her lips, and the foam sits on her upper lip as she drinks down the golden liquid like it is the only thing keeping her alive.
That I can understand.
I shouldn’t approach her. I shouldn’t think about her. I shouldn’t invite more evil into her world when it’s clear she running from enough herself. But I can’t fight the pull. I’m not strong enough.
I leave the drinks Blake placed in front of me for Langston and Zeke. I only take my drink as I slide into the stool next to her.
Her gaze never leaves her drink as I move next to her. She doesn’t realize the danger that has approached.
“What’s an innocent creature like you doing in a bar like this?” I ask.
Her eyes roll gently in her head, but it’s the only sign she heard me. Otherwise, I don’t exist to her.
But I’m a patient man. I know she heard me, and I know she is uncomfortable with me sitting so close. She’ll answer. If for no other reason than she’s cur