Here Lies the Lives Left at the Altar (On Hold)

Chapter Two

Rosie

"We'll have two beers."

I cut him off swiftly. "Make that one beer and a glass of Far Niente Chardonnay, please."

"Honey, where do you think you are?" the bartender asks in a gruff voice.

It's a fair question. I quickly scan the bar the stranger brought us too, and it looks as if they copy and pasted it out of any classic biker bar in a movie. Loud music was melded with the sound of pool table balls being hit into pockets. The smell of cigarettes hit me like a truck when I first walked in, but I quickly became accustomed to it after a few minutes. Bright signs are hung on the wall along with posters and photos of people I don't recognize. Men with long bears and thin, greased back hair sporting sleeveless leather jackets watch our every movement. I don't blame them, I stick out like a bride in a biker bar.

Endless bottles of alcohol litter the space behind the bar. I notice that many of the bottles are empty, and I can't imagine how long they've been sitting there, considering they're covered in dust. I can see the dirt building on my dress just from sitting on one of these stools. Cobwebs hang from the ceiling as if placed there for design. The floors were muddy from spilled drinks and naturally dirty floors. I swear a rat greeted us at the door.

I smile at him. "A very fine establishment that I'm sure passes every healthcode in the books and has Far Niente Chardonnay."

The bartender glances at the person sitting next to me who shrugs helplessly. He looks back at me and says, "I'll give ya a Dirty Shirley."

"Double cherries?" I request politely with a grin.

"Can't say no to a bride," he grumbles while walking away before I can make any more requests. I perch back in the tall barstool contently, rubbing my hands gently along my poofy satin dress.

I turn to the stranger in the seat next to me. I finally am able to take in his appearance now that I'm away from the chaos. He has floppy dark brown curly hair that looks like it's been dipped in honey. His jawline is so sharp I'm convinced he has to sharpen it every night. His suit is form fitting and highlights the best aspects of his body, and my gaze is stuck on his arms. When I first saw him, I would have been far more intimidated by him had he not given me that charming smile. I haven't felt that at ease in years. I think that was why I didn't fight more to kick him out of the car.

And his eyes.

God. I almost gasped the first time I saw his eyes. His narrow eyes are a deep brown that look at me as if he effortlessly knows everything about me with a passing glance.

Just before he can notice me staring at him, I readjust my seat and turn fully towards him.

"Come here often?" I quip with a perched hand under my chin, leaning against the musty countertop. He takes a swig of his beer but doesn't say anything, he barely turns his head towards me. I narrow my eyes slightly, trying to best figure out how to get his attention.

So, instead I try, "What's your name?"

I get a low response this time. "Archer."

I smile again, but I don't know why.

"Hi, Archer," I chirp happily, nodding once as if sealing it into my mind. "I'm Rosalie."

"What?"

"Rosalie," I repeat, slightly taken aback by his sharp tone.

"No, I'm not calling you that," Archer says with a scrunched up face. "What kind of name is that?"

I falter slightly, but find myself more amused than insulted. "I'd normally direct you to ask my mother and father but I'm avoiding them at the moment for reasons I'm sure you can imagine."