FAKE

eight

The strobe lights in the building are slowly conjuring a headache. The music pounds through the place, and I can feel the vibration in the floor.

"Steve's Bar" is a bit more like a club than its implied purpose. Ross and I sit at the bar counter.

We sit.

And we wait.

He hasn't told me what we are waiting for.

A man sits next to Ross and taps him on the shoulder. This must be our lovely surprise.

He has a scruffy shadow of a beard and a shirt sporting some indie band I don't know of. He seems like one of those people that complain when there's nothing organic on a fast food menu.
He and Ross had a private conversation for a few moments, though how they heard each other over the music, I have no clue.

At one point in their conversation both turned and stared at me for a second. Another thing I won't understand the meaning of.

Finally, they finish and Ross turns to me.

"This is Adam." He gestures to the man. Adam extends his hand and I take it hesitantly, then shake it.

"Pleasure to meet you." I mutter in a heavy tone, really not at all pleased.

"Adam's letting us stay a night or two at his apartment a few blocks away." Ross glances back at him.

"And how do you know this.. Adam?" I ask and cross my arms.

"I just do. Long story." He swerves around my question and stands up, Adam following. I rise to my feet as well with an exasperated sigh.

Then they both freeze.

"You see them too?" Ross hisses to Adam. I follow their anxious stares to three burly men combing the bar for a target. Of course that happens to be Ross and his friend.

Like some cliché action movie, the three men turned their heads and glared directly at us. They began to pick their way through the crowd towards us.

"I'll get to the car and stand at the entrance when I'm ready. Go!" Adam orders. He and Ross charge forward and I helplessly follow along. The first man takes off after Adam when they suddenly split. I am forced to stay in Ross' slipstream as the second and third follow us.

Ross grabs me by the arm and shoves me in front of him. He stops in time to bewilder the first pursuer and shove him into a table of drunk men. Alcohol is sent flying through the air and the first is engulfed into the losing side of a separate bar fight.

The lesson of the story is: don't touch a drunk man's beer.

The second pursuer is caught up behind a wall of people forming to egg on the fight or join in.

Across the bar, I can see Adam swing at the third man. He goes flying backward and stays where he is on the ground. Adam runs out the door to his car.

Ross pushes me forward and swipes the baseball cap off another guy who is passed out in his chair. He pulls on the cap and makes sure his hair is tucked in, then sheds his leather jacket. He wraps it around me instead of leaving it behind and then shoves me into a small nook in the corner of the bar.

We stand in a close proximity, too close for either of us to be comfortable.

And we do a bit more waiting for Adam to signal us. I press my back into the wall behind me, in desperate need of room.

But, we have forgotten a third man is still up. He forces his way out of the crowd and begins looking for us again. He begins from the corner adjacent to our own and looks through the faces, slowly moving towards us. Ross angles his back to the rest of the room so I am hidden behind him while he leans over, dangerously close.

I huff in annoyance. "Back up."

"Want us both to die?" He hisses under his breath.

"I don't know, you'll probably fake it again." I snap in return. With an agitated growl, he holds his ground. The man is getting closer. Ross' forehead rests on my own and open space between us is virtually nonexistent.

Then I see the man eye me over Ross' shoulder. A faint wave of recognition passes over his face as he thinks.

Huh, that girl looks familiar, must be with that blonde kid!

"He's looking at me." I mumble to Ross, my lips barely moving to pronounce the syllables.

"Act fast." He mutters back.

Then I am pressed back further into the wall and his large hands are holding my face and his lips are pressed against mine.

I can't even fight back, there isn't any room.

Something inside me screams for help.

"Act fast."

Act.

Act. He wants me to act along.

I slowly move my lips in sync with his, and wait for him to step back.

7 seconds... 8 seconds... 10... 12.... 19....

26 seconds later Ross is out of my personal space. I take a deep breath, enjoying the room.

He hesitantly turns and looks for the signal.

"There he is." Ross drags me forward and quietly through the crowd. Neither of us say anything, partly because we don't want to draw attention to ourselves, but I doubt he wants to apologize for what just happened.

We head outside and scramble inside Adam's car. Ross takes the passenger seat while I sit in the back. Adam glances over at Ross.

"So I didn't know she was your girlfrie-"

"Shut up! No I'm not!" I protest, completely fed up with this night.
"Touchy." Adam notes under his breath, the comment laced with mockery. His eyes never leave the road. I throw Ross' jacket up front as he takes off the baseball cap, then unbuckle my seat belt and lay across the backseat, both physically and mentally drained from the recent events.

And for about an hour.

I sleep.

In peace.