The Deal Maker (Book I)

Chapter Eleven - Bar Talk

                                                                   Chapter Eleven

                                                                         Bar Talk

I drove speedily to the location Matthew had given me just so that I could get this over with. Being told that, if this guy Xavier showed up, I should run wasn’t exactly a pleasant thought. Matthew made it clear that I was no match for him and that I might as shoot myself in the head if this guy catches me in the middle of my mission. I ignored the sharp nervous pains in my stomach and focused solely on parking on the curb outside of a bar.

This was definitely not the place I wanted to be. For a girl who has been sober a year, a bar was the last place to be at, especially when stressed. I locked the door of the rental car and crossed the road with my hood pulled over my head to avoid getting soaked by the chilling rain. The place was packed, a terrible situation for someone who was about to assassinate someone. I saw hips grinding against each other, tongues pressed into others’ mouth, and some stuff which I swear is illegal to do in public. Yet, as horrific as this place seemed, it was more of a home to me than most places I’ve bee. Seeing a girl take a row of vodka shots while her boyfriend kissed her neck reminded me of my past. It reminded me Sawyer. Just thinking of his name made me want to punch a wall or take a row of shots. Damn you, Sawyer, I thought sorrowfully as I scanned the place for my target.

Now was not the time to think of the past, right now I had to think of my present. She was here, I could feel it. I don’t know how I could sense her nearby, maybe I was getting better at finding them. The room was hot and smelled of sweet cigarettes—an old addiction of mine I broke thanks to David—and sweat from all of the dancing. The sounds of glasses clinking together and seeing people gulp down drink after drink, for a moment, weakened me. I was like a fat person on a diet going through a bakery with samples. Getting a drink would be so easy, just costing a few bucks. Maybe a guy would find me charming and purchase the drink for me? My fantasy quickly faded once I saw the red head at the far end of the club. It was her, my target.

Her body was slightly draped over the chipped wooden table while her hand clung to her almost empty drink. She looked miserable, as if she just learned her dog died. I approached her, shoving morons out of the way when they nearly knocked me down. This wasn’t the place to take down someone. Thinking as quickly as I could, I sat down at her table with as calm of an expression as possible. “You look miserable,” I stated in an attempt to start a conversation. I had to get her out of here; I had to get her alone.

She pulled her head up from the table, causing her hair to drape over her face. Sloppily, she brushed the strands away from her eyes and looked at me with a slightly annoyed expression. “Most people here are,” she replied dryly and finished her drink in a single gulp.

I looked around us, taking in the sorrowful looks on some girls around us. Obviously some came here to drown their sorrows. I must admit, I’ve done it dozens of times. “Well, you look worse than them.”

“That’s because my life sucks so much more than theirs.” Her eyes drifted to the bar as if it called for her.

“Let me guess, a boyfriend dumped you?” Play it cool, play it cool, I chanted to myself as I attempted to relax in my seat. This place was actually rather peaceful to me, like a home. Much less stressful than being by the pool.

She stared at me blankly. “I didn’t come here to be harassed by the lesbians.”

For some reason, I laughed. “I’m straight.”