Inflict: A Novel

Chapter Eleven

"Here, a drink," Connor said, holding out the glass for Evelyn to take. She did, sniffing the red liquid and looking up at him curiously. "A red wine. More sweet than sour."

"Trying to get me drunk?"

"No, but if I were, we wouldn't be using wine."

"Whiskey is the Irish way, isn't it?"

Connor scoffed, taking a seat beside Evelyn on the leather sectional, a pint of black stuff in his hand. Wine wasn't his thing, but he figured Evelyn might want to drink if they were in a bar, and he had something of his own.

"Don't believe everything you hear, lass."

But to be fair, she had a point.

Evelyn simply shot him with a sly smile that said she knew he was toying with her, and sipped on her drink. "What now?"

"You wanted to listen to music, so wait, and listen."

Connor took the chance to survey the bar, and the people inside. It wasn't a pub, like he preferred, or even a club where someone could get up and dance. However, the place was a little-known gem, tucked away in a rather old part of Brooklyn, and it did decent business. The place didn't appeal to a younger crowd because it didn't cater to specialty drinks, flashing lights, and new-age music.

Instead, the place sported shined wooden floors, low lighting, leather furniture, a bartender with a tongue as sharp as his eye, and a stage. A single spotlight on the stage lit up the lone microphone that also gave a shout-out to the yesteryears gone by, with its large size and crackly sound when it was turned on.

It wasn't Connor's first time at the place, but he didn't come here often, either. He needed to be in a sort of mood to enjoy the atmosphere and nuance the bar provided. Usually when he went out to drink, it wasn't to enjoy the establishment, but to get drunk, have a meet with someone, or find a quick ride with a woman.

Connor glanced over to find Evelyn watching him from the corner of her eye. None of those things were on the table tonight—at least not with someone else. He found he wasn't all that interested in those things, anyway, unless the lass beside him asked for it.

She had asked for music, but didn't mention anything about dancing or the sort. He figured a bar with rubbish music wouldn't be up her alley, and neither would a club with enough people to make anyone claustrophobic. Maybe in time, but not tonight.

The curtains moved at the back of the stage, making Evelyn sit straighter as two people came out on the stage. A man and a woman, both dressed for a stage, while the man had a stool and guitar in his grasp.

Connor rested comfortably into the sectional, throwing his arm along the back. "Live music, love. You can't get better than that."

Evelyn didn't reply, but her profile was more than enough to tell him she was over the feckin' moon. He didn't care to pay attention to the couple on the stage setting up, or even the other people who had started to swarm the stage to get a seat on the sectional surrounding it to be the closest for the show.

Even after the man began to strum out a low, soulful tune while the woman's vocals perfectly complimented the instrument's sound, Connor was distracted. Or rather, far more interested in someone else.

Evelyn, that was.

He didn't want to miss a single thing as she experienced it with him, especially when she looked as happy as she did right then in that second. There had never been a moment when he wanted to freeze time, to perfectly capture a moment, more than he did when she smiled. It was always so genuine, so perfectly beautiful.