Beg For Mercy

Chapter 1: Lyra

The smooth melody of soft jazz drifts through the air as I enter the bar, its rhythm speaking to my soul in ways few other things can. Everything about this place is appealing, from the black marble floors to the gold-accented bar top. The classy velvet booths and leather bar seats add an element of sophistication that most places lack.

The smell of spice and whiskey entices me toward my usual spot at the bar, where my favourite bartender is chatting up a cute blond guy. I slide into my seat silently, not wanting to interrupt the sparks flying between Marco and the blond. I shoot him a wink as he side-eyes me, his mouth tilting into a lopsided grin.

After a few minutes, the cute blondie slips a business card into Marco's hand, his fingers lingering longer than an accidental touch would, before he strolls away, adjusting his pants subtly.

"Wow, Marco, it's only seven and you've already got yourself a nightcap lined up," I say, impressed and maybe a little jealous.

"You know how I roll, sweetness." He winks. "You waitin' for anyone tonight?"

"Just meeting Lex. Seems like your Friday night will be much more exciting than mine." I grin at him, pleased at least one of us will end tonight with a bang.

"Ah, the night is young yet. Plenty of time for you to bag a hottie, too."

I roll my eyes, not interested in another fuck-and-chuck. I'm getting bored with the same old one-night stands. They always want 'just one more night' or 'just one date,' neither of which I'm willing to give. "Can I get a scotch, Marco?"

"Comin' up, babe." He blows me a kiss and struts his fine self over to the back bar to whip up my drink.

I love this guy. He's easy on the eyes and makes a mean cocktail. I've been coming to this bar at least once a week since I moved to New York, and over the years, Marco has become not only my favourite bartender but also my friend. Oh...and my self-appointed therapist, too. Poor guy.

"Actually, make it a double!" I yell over at Marco, feeling like getting more than a little tipsy tonight.

"Marc! Can you whip me up a martini while you're at it?"

I flinch hard enough that my ass separates from my seat when the lilting voice of Lex, my best friend and business partner, pipes up beside me. I don't know how she always creeps up on me like that. She's like a walking party trick, always appearing like magic to scare the ever-living shit out of me.

"Dammit, Lex. Quit doing that! Almost made me piss myself." I scowl at her, giving her a little shove when she wraps her arm around me in a side-hug. "I didn't even see you come in."

"You seem a little tense. Need me to find you a big, fit man to bang away your problems?" She giggles, her bright green eyes dancing with humour.

My grumpy attitude never dims her sunny disposition. I'm not even sure how we're such good friends. She's bubbly, sweet, and likeable, all traits that I don't possess. But maybe that's why our friendship and professional partnership is so successful—we balance each other out.

"Okay, first of all, where the hell were you? I left the office hours ago, and I've been here for half an hour already! And second, abso-fucking-lutely not. I do not want you to find me any type of man, thank you very much."

"Shit, you're a cranky asshole today, aren't ya?" Lex says, pursing her lips and holding her hands up in mock surrender.

"Why bother finding a guy when I've got trusty BOB at home? He never disappoints." I ignore her jab at me, adding to my argument about why I don't need a damn man in my life.

"God, your life makes me so sad." She shakes her head dramatically, her angled blonde bob swaying with the motion. "And sorry for being late, Mom. I got stuck at the office with my new assistant. She had a bunch of questions about Mrs. Pritchett's case."