I saddle up to a stool. Oh, I always wanted to write that. Like I live in nineteenth century Oklahoma and it's a dusty hot day. When the barkeep yells, "What's your poison?" I give my worn cowboy hat a flick, wiping my brow with my kerchief (old school) and in a raspy but firm voice call out, "Sarsaparilla."
Of course this place is the exact opposite of an old western bar but I choose to walk with a wide gait and hook my thumbs in my belt loops anyway. I ease onto the stool and give Aria a knowing nod. She creases her brow while wiping down a glass.
"Did you hurt yourself, Morgana?"
"No just trying out a new walk."
Aria shakes her head while putting the glass down to grab something from under the bar. She places a beer bottle in front of me.
"Here this is the lightest beer we have, should last you the night."
"Hey, bar lady. I'll have what she's having."
A male voice slurs from a few feet away. We both turn our attention to see a man about six feet tall with dark blonde hair and an average build trying to glance my way. I say trying because his body seems to have other ideas. It's like watching a toddler first learn to walk with a lot of wobbling and gripping of the bar. I think he is attempting to hit on me as he keeps giving me a very cartoonish eye wink.
Before either of us can respond I see a hand grip his shoulder and a tall man come out from behind him. It's Aria's boss, the one I saw the picture of and I have to admit he is even hotter in person. His hair is doing that messy just out of bed thing mixed with the faint beard all of which is doing things to me. Sexy things.
"I think you have had enough, Trainer."
Trainer? The drunk is named Trainer. That is the title of a job not a name. No wonder he's drunk.
"Oh come on, Jackson. Me and the lady were just hitting it off. It's not cool to cock-block, man."
Jackson turns to look at me, but he doesn't just glance at me he skims my body with his eyes and I swear it felt like it was his hands moving around me. I suddenly feel hot, like I have to get naked immediately or I will disintegrate.
When his eyes leave me the warmth goes and there is coldness once again.
"Nah, Trainer. A woman like that, I'm sure she's taken. You must be mistaken, here let John find you a cab."
A very large man with a shaved head, tattoos from his skull curving down his neck steps in front of Trainer and helps him away.
I can hear Trainer calling out from the distance, "I will always churish our brief time too gesser, my lady."
My head drops in slight embarrassment and I smile shaking my head. I see two black leather shoes come into view and I glance up to Jackson standing right in front of me. His intensely dark brown eyes are radiating heat despite the soft expression on his face.
"I hope he didn't bother you, miss. Trainer is a regular. Though he can get quite inebriated he is mostly harmless."
The heat crawls up my neck to flush my cheeks. The way he's looking at me makes me falter.
"I'm ... uh ... I ... am ... fine. Thhhank you."
"Jackson, this is Morgana, my roommate. Remember I said she would be stopping by tonight." Aria adds to our conversation, though I don't think Jackson nor I really care that she is there. We seem to be too focused on each other.
"Oh, Morgana, right. Well, it is lovely to meet you, Morgana. Please, anything you want is on the house. In fact we have private VIP booths on the second floor, why don't I escort you to one."
My eyes flip between Aria and Jackson unsure of what to do.
"I ... um came alone. Really only to see Aria, so I would feel weird being in a booth all by myself."
I give him a quick smile to let him know I appreciate the gesture. His eyes darken and I notice something flash across his face but it's gone before I have time to read it. For some reason whatever it was doesn't sit well with me. He steps closer and grabs my hand pulling me toward him.
"You won't be alone. You will be with me. Now come, I insist," is all he says before I am tugged away from Aria and the bar, compelled to follow him toward the back stairs and past another large man who gives Jackson a nod.
"Jackson, I really don't feel comfortable with all this. I was hoping to just gossip with Aria at the bar tonight. I appreciate what you are doing, but it's really not necessary."
He ignores me but his grip firms making it too painful to pull away. I am getting really nervous now and quickly scan the area to try to find someone to help, but we are walking down a dark hallway of doors. We enter the door at the back. One wall of glass lines the room overlooking the dance floor below while the rest of the walls are black, covered by immense modern paintings. There is a large couch opposite the window and two club chairs on either side of a black metal coffee table in the middle. It's clean, dark and modern. Normally I would love the rich exclusiveness of the place, but right now I just want to leave.