Convince Me To Go

Chapter One

"What's a nice woman like yourself doing in a place like this at one in the morning?"

I looked across the bar to the only other patron. He was in a corner booth that was dimly lit. So dimly lit that it kept half his face in the shadows. Before him, were three empty glasses and a fourth that was nestled between his hands. The liquid inside was clear, it could have been Vodka, Gin, Rum, Ouzo, certain kinds of Tequila, and maybe a few other things. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip then placed it back down.

I softly scoffed and took another sip from her glass of coconut rum. What was to be a sip ended up being a gulp that finished the glass. Flicking the empty glass to the side of the table I took a deep breath. When I'd gotten here, two hours ago I told myself just one drink but one drink turned into two, then three and now I'd just finished my fourth. I could hear my phone ringing again inside my purse. Taking a deep breath, I dug for it and looked at the screen. I knew who it was before I even looked at it. My mother. Again, I pressed the dismiss button and dropped it back into my purse.

"A better way to avoid them is to turn it off completely. They'll get the message loud and clear."

He just wouldn't stop speaking even when it was clear I had no intention of speaking back. Instead, my eyes locked onto the bartender as I raised my hand holding up three fingers. He nodded and busied himself making my next round of drinks. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the last eight hours or anything past the next ten minutes.

I didn't know how long I'd stay here. The truth was I didn't have anywhere to go right now. This was a city you weren't familiar with, a city I knew no one, a city just picked randomly while I was at Grand Central Terminal. The only logic to the decision was "why not". When one was running away did it really matter where they went? It only mattered that they got away from where they were.

The bartender came over and placed the three glasses in front of me and nodded his head. I smiled my thanks and reached for the first. As I rose it to my lips he spoke again.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

I could hear a slight accent, but it didn't stick out so you couldn't really decipher which it was. I scanned my memory of the contents of my purse. I always kept mace, and a hunting knife in there for safety reasons. It was smart to know where it was in case this situation quickly changed.

"You know what gives you away? It's February and you're wearing patterned stockings and those fancy swanky red-bottomed shoes. What're they called Lou-bi-tons?" He scoffed once he got the name out with exaggerated enunciation. He paused to take a sip from his glass but continued. "Plus that bag of yours, the one that has the phone that rings every fifteen minutes, it looks fancy too--expensive, bet it's something like Chanel, or Prada, or the really expensive one, what's it called—Louis Vuitton." Again, he scoffed. He was being condescending.

I ignored him and took an extra long sip. He was beginning to annoy me. So what if your shoes were Loubitons, and your bow tie patterned stockings Gucci, and your purse was Prada? What did it matter? He didn't know me, I thought.

"Check, check and check. If I can guess where you're from in three guesses, will you answer my question?"

I looked back at him and sighed out. "Make it two," was my response. The dim light showed his smile and for the first time you got a hint to how he looked, and this hint said handsome.

"You got a deal fancy." He raised his glass toward me and took another sip. You mirrored his actions. From across the bar, I could see his eyes roam over my body. It made me slightly uncomfortable, but only slightly.

"France. That many designer brands on speaks volumes."

"Wrong, one more buttercup."

He smiled again and shifted in the cushioned seat of the booth giving me an even more thoughtful look.