“I’m a bartender. I hear it all. I can weed out truth from fiction.”
“The reporters and coroners aren’t drunk. Just corrupt. There’s a difference.”
She shook her head, then burst out laughing. “At least I see you’re still good with a gun. Damn, boy. You handled your business, that’s for sure.”
“Mmm hmm.” He blew smoke out the side of his mouth. “I’d like nothin’ more though, than for things to go back to normal.”
“Well, let me help you forget your troubles. What can I get you?”
“Let me have a snake in a barrel.” Right at that moment, he could feel eyes boring into him, as if someone were rummaging right into the pit of his soul. He turned to his left, and two seats down the way sat a dainty brown satin doll with big doe eyes. Considering her posture, clothing and jewelry, she possessed a certain sophistication that definitely didn’t match this place.
She must’ve gotten lost.
He laughed to himself, then turned back towards Melanie, taking the drink from her grasp. “Thank you.”
“Oh, I’m so rude.” Melanie rolled her eyes in a dramatic sort of way, then pointed at the very woman who was sitting there nursing a glass of red wine. “This is English. English, this is Axel. Known this man for practically my whole life.”
The woman in question sat a bit straighter, and her lips curled like a cat’s after it finally found a stash of hidden delicacies. Both women were now ogling him, speaking in some language he couldn’t understand as they bounced glances and silly grins at one another. He hated when chicks did that.
“Nice to meet you, Axel.” English placed her glass down and stretched out her arm, dangling her hand. He looked down at it. The long fingers. Perfectly manicured nails and the slight sheen on her flesh, as if it had been lubed up with liquid gold and diamond infused baby oil. He stood from his seat, holding his drink, and made the two second trek in her direction to take her hand and shake it.
So soft. Ridiculously soft, as if she’d never lifted a finger a day in her life. She must’ve been born with a silver spoon. How does Mel know this lady? Is she her probation officer or something?
“I’ll let you two talk for a while. I’ve got work to do and these tips have to be earned by more than just a smile.” Melanie moseyed away, but not before winking in her friend’s direction. It was crystal clear now—the woman was trying to hook them up.
“So, let’s talk, Axel. Have a seat.” English removed her purse from the chair next to her and placed it on the bar counter. Sliding onto the seat, he studied her, smoking and taking sips of his drink. “What do you do?” she asked, lifting her glass of wine to her lips.
“What do I do?” Since he hated that question, particularly if it was the first thing to roll out of a woman’s mouth, he decided to mess with her a bit. “I work.”
He exhaled a few rings of smoke and watched them dissolve on the way up to the ceiling as Moneybagg Yo’ rapped on with, ‘See Wat I’m Sayin’.”
“What do you actually do for work, smartass?” she said with a twang and a smile, then waved at a white guy behind the bar who was pouring drinks.
“Oh, you’re one of those.” He grinned, clicked his tongue against his lower teeth, and sat a bit straighter.
“I’m not going to fall into your trap and ask what that’s supposed to mean. If by chance though, you mean someone who—Hold on.” The bartender approached and she pointed to her now empty wine glass. “I don’t want any more alcohol, but I would like a glass of water, please.”
“You got it.” The man took her glass and meandered to the other side of the counter.
“As I was saying…” She crossed her legs and looked him directly in the eye. “If you meant to say I’m someone who asks direct questions and expects an honest answer, then yes, I’m one of those.”
He nodded, took a swig of his beverage, and stood to his feet. Then belched. Her look of disgust didn’t get wasted on him. He responded to her expression with a proud smile, happy to have brought her down a peg or two into the land of reality.
“Lady, you asked me to come ’round here and sit down.” He pointed to the stool. “I wasn’t payin’ you any attention. Second, it’s rude to ask someone what they do for a livin’ within thirty seconds of knowin’ them. You could’ve asked me all sorts of things, but you went straight to the wallet.”
Her eyes had the nerve to get big. She was utterly shocked at his response.
“Well, I don’t mind telling you what I do for a living,” she stated, resting her hand across where invisible pearls would lie, ready for her to clutch.