The Avaricious | Book 3

07 | 788.510

"In a museum full of art
you'd still close your eyes"

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THE INSIDE OF THE BAR was nearly as disappointing as the outside. I couldn't seem to find the appeal in the damp, darkened room that had caused William to bring me here in the first place. There was a jukebox in one corner, playing soft tunes while a group of 5 musicians set up their instruments on stage. I'd always favored the adoring sound of a quiet piano, but maybe I'd find joy in their music.

While I stopped to take in my surroundings, Will made his way over to the near-empty bar and slid onto a stool, waving his hand casually at the bartender. As the bulky man wearing all black with a towel thrown over his shoulder appeared, the two smiled like they were long-term friends. Perhaps they were.

Taking a seat next to him, I analyzed the man in front of me. Tall, broad shoulders, tattoos snaking up his neck, hand, and arm, slick black hair with full eyebrows and pierced ears. He looked like a stereotypical attractive bartender.

7, I mentally ranked, soon after scolding myself for continuing the habit of such.

"Estelle, Elliot. Elliot, Estelle," William introduced us before I had even sat down all the way.

Elliot flashed a warm smile that didn't seem to fit the picture I had painted of him. He didn't seem all warm and fuzzy. Certainly not the type of coldness that William himself radiated, but far from nice as well.

"Nice to meet you, Estelle."

I stared blankly at his open hand that held 3 rings, none of which resided on his ring finger. "Feelings reciprocated," I lied, ignoring the hand and sliding onto the stool beside William.

I saw the two exchange a look before he dropped his hand. "Anyways... It's been a slow night, can I get you guys anything?"

"Two negroni's," William replied. I didn't drink much, if at all. The taste continued to feel bitter on my tongue, despite how much everyone insisted it was an acquired taste.

Elliot nodded, disappearing to go prepare the drinks. 

The silence that replaced his presence was anything but comfortable. Locking stare with William, I made it a secret competition to not break eye contact first.

"Why'd you bring me here," I questioned, not looking away.

I needed to hear the words come from his lips, and his alone. I didn't want to be left in the dark while William slowly took control of our relationship. But I didn't know the man well enough to make plans of my own, yet. So instead, I intently listened to the few words the boy had to say, piecing together my own conclusion and schema of his personality.

I watch as Williams's eyes slid slowly from my chest down to my thigh, exposed by the high slit in the dress. "Beautiful dress," he replied, ignoring my question completely.

Naturally, my eyebrows creased in the middle, bending into a frustrated expression. William was so hard to read. So instead of pressing the matter further, I looked around the bar. It was musty, dark, and damp. Yet also clean, and every table that didn't have a couple sitting at it was instead replaced by a gleaming table. When Elliot wasn't floating between the few people sitting at the bar, refilling our drinks and laughing darkly as if his life depended on it, he was washing and shining each and every shot glass. I even noticed he'd place coasters under the glasses if people didn't put down a napkin.

I liked how much Elliot seemed to care about this bar, even if it was just the bare minimum like keeping the space sanitary. Directing my gaze over to the group of people setting up to go on stage, their looks caught my attention even further.

There was a girl with bright artificial colored orange hair, cut rather short so it hung just above her collarbone, and messy bangs that hovered over her eyes. She held an electric guitar in hand, the body shaped like an SG-type. She had catlike eyes that were enclosed in dark and sharp eyeliner. She seemed more like a metal type of girl than jazz, and for that, I ranked her an 8.

Fucking rankings, I thought bitterly. Such a nasty habit that I tried so little to be rid of.

The girl was laughing carelessly at something a much taller and broader guy had said. The guy himself was holding a saxophone which looked minuscular in his big hands. Each finger was doused with a large gold ring, some of which looked like they deeply needed a shining. His complexion was just a few shades lighter than his near-black eyes, making the silver septum stand out boldly on his face. Despite how tall and big the man was, he seemed awfully soft.

Like a baby cat who was too scared to leave its owner. Something about the man enticed me, and for that, I ranked him an 8.5.

Besides the two who stood out like a diamond among sticks, the rest were more casually dressed and Plain-Jane looking. Each one was playing-testing and plugging in their instruments. A male adjusting the mic, a female wiping down her clarinet, and a female drummer stood with the two on the stage.

"Will you be staying for the show?" I heard Elliot ask while placing the two drinks in front of us. Assuming it was directed towards Will, I kept my eyes focused on the players.

When no response came, I glanced over to find Elliot staring directly at me. "Are they good?"

"They wouldn't be playing in my bar if they were anything less than amazing," He said almost coldly, but smiling and shaking his head nevertheless.

Picking up my glass, I sipped lightly on the drink in front of me. "I'd love to hear them play then."

Elliot's smile deepened, which made me wonder how different he was from William. "I promise you'll enjoy it," He offered, picking up yet another glass that looked far from dirty, but began wiping it down anyway. "And if you don't, drinks are on me."

An evil sparkle gleamed in his eyes before Elliot drifted away, and when I looked sideways, William's usual blank face was replaced by a frown. Reasoning as to why entered and left my head far before I was ready to fully acknowledge it. 

Mentally rolling my eyes at the failed excuse for a man, I looked back over to the stage. "What's their names?" I asked, hoping to start a conversation of some type.

Elliot had talked more to me than my own future husband. 

Will, finally replied, but quietly so I strained desperately to hear. "The girl on guitar is Esmée, Elliot's sister. The guy on saxophone is James, another of our friends. Don't know the others."

I nodded considerably. James and Esmée, even the names seemed to draw me in.

In fact, surprisingly enough, most of the people I'd met through William seemed to interest me more than the boy himself.

It was such a pity really, as before I even spoke to William, I had instinctually ranked him a 10. How cruel of myself, to prioritize the boy I hated.