Alex Mercado had just gotten her nails done. Needless to say, she was a little upset when the blood wouldn't come out of the white lacquer.
She drove her Camaro down the road at a ridiculous speed, recklessly weaving in and out of traffic. Her arm hung out the window, tapping the door along to the beat of the music. She wasn't totally paying attention to where she was going, rather just hoping that she wouldn't end up in a massive wreck and have to explain again why she was totally fine and everyone else was in pieces.
Her phone said the address was just a few blocks up. She wasn't quite ready to show up, not just yet. No, there was something missing.
Jerking the wheel, she flew up the curb and into the parking lot of Dave's. Dave's was a bar that could have easily been mistaken as some sort of drug stakeout. The place was falling apart and rampant with mold. It was surprising that someone hadn't come to shut it down, or at least tell them to clean it.
Alex hopped out of her car and waltzed in the front door. She paused for a second and felt the drunken gazes of all the rowdy men inside fall on her. It felt good for only a second. Then she remembered why she was there, and she slid into a spot down the line of drunken men.
Reaching behind the bar, she grabbed an unopened bottle of vodka and unscrewed the top. For a moment, the bartender looked like he was going to scold her. Alex made eye contact, and suddenly the bartender remembered that the bathroom hadn't been cleaned in four years. He left.
"Hey," called one of the drunks on her left. "You gotta pay for that, you know." Alex looked up and saw his lopsided goatee and snapback. Who even wore snapbacks anymore? She just shrugged.
"He's right, ya know," called another guy, this time on her right. He, too, wore a snapback. Maybe she chose the wrong bar. Or maybe it was the right one; she'd find out in a few seconds. "You gotta pay the man for that."
"What man? He just left." Her gaze drifted out the dirty-encrusted front window, where the bartender was hurriedly getting in his car. He had just realized that he never bought any Windex for the bathroom. The bathroom that he needed to clean.
Goatee-Snapback man stood up and walked behind Alex. She spun around in her chair, holding the bottle by its neck. He held out a hand and said, "Hand it over. You didn't pay for it. That's stealing. It's a felony. Hand it over."
Alex held up a finger and put her lips to the bottle as she tilted it up, and up, and up. Goatee-Snapback man was soon joined by the other snapback man, and they just watched in sputtering confusion. Personally, they felt attacked. They've always tried to be able to chug a bottle of vodka, but it never ended well. And here this girl was, in their bar, drinking their vodka...
She dropped the bottle to her side with a satisfied sigh. "Man, that hit the spot," she said. The two men sputtered. She turned to the man next to her and whispered something in his ear. He didn't hear much, but there was definitely something about his wife and one of the men behind him. His face turned to a pleasant shade of beet red before he whirled around.
"How could you?" He cried out just before leaving his stool and punching the man right in his nose.
Alex leaned back against the bartop as everyone leapt from their barstools and joined the fight. People were punching aimlessly, breaking noses and glasses just because that's what everyone else was doing. She reached behind the bar and grabbed another bottle, sipping idly as the battle raged on.
Bored, she grabbed another bottle from the table and stepped down off of the barstool. The fighting had mostly worn off due to the fact that many of these men hadn't exercised in years, and their drunken endurance just wasn't up to par. Opening the door with her back, she saluted the mess of people with her bottle before stepping into her car.
She put it in gear and tore out of the lot, music blasting.
Why had she walked into a shitty bar, stolen their liquor, and started a brawl?
Easy.
Alex Mercado was bored.