Short Stories (without happy end)

Alice (part. 2)

I order another drink. A cherry Brandy for a change. I also finish it in one gulp and I am about to order something else when the guy from yesterday accosts me. ''It looks like you're really alone today'' he comments with a laugh. It seems that he has already had a few drinks. Good, it's sometimes easier to get rid of a drunk man than someone aware of what he is doing. ''I'll make you a proposition'' he resumes. ''I'm not sure I want to haggle with you'' I answer trying to keep my composure. ''You see those two guys over there? They are with me. So what I'm proposing is a simple contest of shots. If you win, we'll leave you alone, if you lose, you come with us''. ''And if I don't participate?" "You shouldn't ask such questions. Let's say that with this little game, you have a chance to leave without being bothered. So?''

I do not say anything. But silence means consent. The man nods to his friends and one of them climbs onto the unoccupied stage. He grabs the microphone and starts shouting "Shooting contest!'' More people arrived while I was alone with my drink. Shouts and applause erupt from all corners of the bar. A table is hoisted onto the stage and the waitress arrives with a tray of shot glasses filled with vodka. The man and I stand face to face in front of the table, a row of glasses placed in front of each of us. I'm facing the bar, so I can see each of the faces watching us. My attention goes back to my 'opponent'. I see that he is looking at me from top to bottom. He brings the first glass to his lips and drinks it in one go. I imitate him while his attention is on the movement of my hair. My long auburn locks barely move as I put my glass back down. We take the second drink at the same time. This time, his gaze wanders along my pink lips before descending lower, to my firm chest. I quickly grab the third glass and I see that he imitates me. We go straight to work and I take a short break after the sixth drink. A predatory smile appears on the man's lips. I look away and my eyes are drawn to someone in the audience. Kyle stares at me with his fiery eyes. I close my eyes for a few seconds and take more vodka. The man starts to wobble and two glasses later, he collapses. He is picked up by his friends who try to leave with him but a shot rings out outside. Kyle didn't move a muscle. He has his arms crossed and continues to stare at me. A black man, with an imposing build, approaches him and whispers something. He nods and the man comes towards me. In the bar, it's panic, people are shouting and jostling each other except for those who are too drunk to do so. Kyle goes to the man I just competed with and his two friends and I manage to read on his lips what he says to them. This is a warning. It sends a chill down my spine. The black man asks me to follow him, which I do. He makes me get into Kyle's car and goes back to the bar. I sit up straight as a ramrod in the backseat and don't relax when Kyle gets behind the wheel. He starts up and drives out of town. I meet his eyes in the rearview mirror and he says these simple words: "We'll drive for a few hours, give you time to sober up. I know what happened and I hope this will deter you from going to that kind of place without me.
I lay down on the chairs and fell into the arms of Morpheus.