FlyGirl - The First Edition

Chapter 22: What is it that you see when you take a look at me?

I found Haut Medoc on the lower level of this beacon to the glories of gluttony. It was fairly crowded; fortunately, I found a spot at the end of the bar and flagged down the bartender.

He smiled at me because he wanted a tip. "What can I get you, gorgeous?"

I batted my eyes, the charmer. "What do you recommend, handsome?"

"The Argentine Malbec is excellent."

"Then I must have it."

He disappeared and reappeared a couple of seconds later with a glass of red wine. I smiled, thanked him, then said, "My sister said the Malbec was excellent as well. She was here last night." I pulled up a selfie on my phone of Jenny and I. "This is my sister. You wouldn't recognize her, would you?"

He looked at my phone politely. "My memory is very foggy."

I pulled out a $100. "It can be difficult working late nights."

He looked at the $100 bill and nodded. "Come to think of it, I do remember her. She came in with two guys, right?"

"That'd be her."

"Sure, she was here. Left with a Russian guy. Lots of tats. Didn't have a good feeling about it, between you and me."

I pulled up Nick's photo that Donnelly had sent me. "Was this the Russian guy?"

"No. This Russian guy was blonde. Stringy. Like he was all bone and muscle. He was very...forceful with her. She didn't seem to mind, but I took issue."

I looked at him. "Did you say anything?"

"I tried to. I asked her if he was bugging her, but she said she was fine." He waved at another customer at the end of the bar. "I have to go."

I handed him the $100, along with another $100 for the wine. "No change. Thanks, handsome."

He winked. "You betcha, gorgeous."

I took my wine to an unoccupied table in the corner and reassessed my information. So far, I knew Jenny was definitely gone, and I knew who'd taken her. But where the hell was she? Was she even in the country? I stared at my phone like that would get Bob to work faster.

I wasn't sure if my stare was impacting Bob, but it did make my phone ring. Caller ID said it was Sean. "Hi Sean," I answered. "Let me guess. You're calling because Alex wants me to return ASAP, and you're afraid you'll wind up like Aidan if I don't."

"Why are you being like this?" he asked, sounding positively petulant.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sean," I replied. "Is my anger at being sold to a man twice my age so that you can maintain the lifestyle in which you've grown accustomed harshing your vibe?"

"You are so stubborn!" he yelled, making me pull the phone away from my ear. "Do you know how many women out there would kill to have the opportunity that you have?"

"Eight," I guessed. "Sixteen? Thirty two?"

"You're not funny," he fumed. "I don't understand why you can't see that this is an amazing opportunity."

I sipped my wine. "Being sold is not an opportunity, Sean. It's a crime."

He groaned so loudly that I swear it made my phone vibrate. "Why are you so hung up on that? Men buy women all the time! Besides, it's not such a bad thing! He's going to take care of you! Other women would kill for this opportunity!"

I sipped my wine and stared at the setting sun. "True. I'm sure that if Alex had bought another woman, she'd be all whatever. But I'm not that way. I'm not chattel, Sean. I'm not chattel."