stolen dance ➵ dallas winston

one

"You're hired," the man across the counter from me reached out for a handshake. I swiftly took his hand, shaking it appreciatively.

"Thank you so much, I-" the man cut me off with his hand. He held it up, prompting me to stop talking.

"Can you start tonight?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

I took this as a test of character, and nodded eagerly. "Of course I can," the man smiled at my response. "Thank you so much, again," I said.

"Come back at 5 pm, I'll teach you the basics then." I agreed, checking the clock on the wall as I made my way out of the bar. It was 3 pm. I decided to head back to my apartment, get ready a bit, then come back.

I stepped into the sunlight from the bar and spotted my car in the parking lot. I walked over to it, pausing for a moment to take in the memories I'd been through with it. I always felt sentimental about my car, as stupid as it sounds, it's always been there for me when I was at my worst. More than anyone else had.

I shook my head, getting in. I fished my keys from the small black purse I had brought to the interview with me. I pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward my house. It was only a few miles away, so I arrived pretty quickly.

I got out and strolled over to my door, unlocking it and letting myself inside. I made sure to lock the door behind me, and I placed my keys in a small bowl on a table next to the door.

I rushed over to the bathroom, and examined myself in the mirror. I went in to check my makeup, but my finger ended up brushing over the scar on my upper cheek. The doctors had told me it should've faded by now, but I guess it was adamant. I shivered, deciding my makeup and hair were fine, and moved over to my bedroom.

The outfit I was wearing was far too formal to actually bartend in, so I swapped into some jeans, a tank top, and my favourite leather jacket. Finally, I added some sneakers, considering the fact that I'd be rushing around behind the bar. Not that anyone would really pay that much attention to my shoes anyways.

I made my way into the kitchen, grabbing an apple and checking the clock again. It was already 4:30, so I finished up my apple and headed back out to my car.

I arrived at the bar, and Buck greeted me at the door. "Right on time, I like it," he said, smiling at me warmly.

--

We finished training around six, and people were slowly filtering in. Buck had disappeared somewhere, leaving me alone behind the bar. It's not like I had no experience, plus, the training was fresh on my mind. I felt prepared enough.

The night dragged along, and I spent my time mindlessly filling orders. Nothing stood out to me the entire night, but I watched a boy walk down the stairs. I figured he was Buck's relative or something, and I'd get introduced to him at one point or another.

While I was pouring a margarita, I heard a commotion from across the room. I slid the margarita over to the person who had ordered it, and wandered over to the commotion.

There was a small circle of people, all observing two people in the middle. I recognized one of them as the boy I saw earlier. The other boy had curly hair, and was in a fighting stance. Buck's relative looked unbothered, he was pretty much just staring at the boy. That didn't work out for him, because almost immediately the other boy swung. Buck's relative got hit right below the eye, and I winced watching it. He wiped his nose, which was bleeding slightly from the blow. I guess he decided to take this fight seriously because he started going in on this poor kid. But the kid wasn't just taking it, and at one point he even had the advantage. He started beating on Buck's relative, who looked like he had lost his energy and was just taking the punches.

I got worried, thinking that Buck might assume that I let his bar get like this. I stepped in, grabbing the boy with curly hair off the other. He looked at me with fire in his eyes, "What are you doing?"

"Just, stop, please," I begged, still having a grip on his shoulders.

"Fine," the boy spat, "But just know he deserved it. You're saving a cruddy JD."

I rolled my eyes at him, but quickly rushed over to the other boy, who seemed to be recuperating. "Are you ok?"

He touched his eye and winced, "Fine, thanks,"

"I can get some painkillers, from behind the counter if you'd like," I continued, inching closer to the boy. He had sat up, and waved me away.

"I'm fine," He continued. He tried to get up, and I could tell it was hard for him to move.

I backed away, balancing on my back heel. I pushed myself up, extending a hand for the boy to get up. Finally, he accepted my help. He took my hand and used it to pull himself off the ground. He was slumped over, but I could tell he was very tall. One hand clutched his abdomen. I couldn't help but stare, wondering why he was being so cold. "Are you sure you don't want painkillers? Your ribs look really-"

"It's ok," he said, cutting me off. He began to walk toward the bar, heading for the stairs. Still clutching his abdomen, he used his other hand to grab the railing. I watched as he pulled himself up the stairs and disappeared into a room.

I sighed, walking back over to the bar. Luckily, I hadn't left it unattended for too long, so nobody was waiting on me to get back.

--

The rest of my shift was boring compared to breaking up a bar fight. It went by slowly, and I mindlessly filled up drinks and passed them to customers.

When Buck finally came back, I explained to him a bit what happened, expecting him to be upset. Instead, he laughed. "Typical Dallas."

I let out a breath of relief, "So Dallas is his name?"

"Dallas Winston, he rents the room up there," Buck said, watching people filter out the door. "Actually, do you mind trying to give him some medicine? He's always been good to me, I want to make sure he's at least a little more comfortable."

"Sure," I nodded. Buck handed me a glass of Vodka and two pills. I grabbed them, wandering up the stairs.

I knocked on the door, and heard a groan in response. "Come in," I heard a muffled voice.

I opened the door, "Hi," I gave a small wave with my free hand.

Dallas stared at me, not saying much for a few seconds. "Why are you so persistent?"

I laughed, "I've been in my fair share of fights," I gestured to my scar, "So I know what it feels like after one like that."

He raised an eyebrow, "You mean one you lost?"

I shook my head, "Of course not. I don't lose."

I had finally gotten a slight smile out of him. This entire time he'd been cold, and I felt like he had finally shown a little bit of emotion. I handed the medicine to him, and he put it in his mouth. Then I handed him the glass. When he took a sip, he almost spat it out. I had to suppress my laughter. "Jesus," he said, his voice hoarse. "I wasn't expecting Vodka."

I shrugged, "Buck gave it to me," Dallas nodded at this. We let a few moments of silence hang in the air. It was a comfortable silence. "I'm Mei, by the way."

"Dallas," he responded, giving me a nod.

"I'll let you get your rest," I backed out of the room, closing the door on my way out. I smiled to myself, walking back down the stairs. I looked at Buck for a nod of acknowledgment that I had done my job for the night, and he gave it to me.

I headed out the door, meeting my car back in the parking lot, in the same spot that I had parked it earlier. It was in the corner of the parking lot. I figured if I parked away from the main building then my car would be less likely to get hit by drunk drivers. I was right, after a small examination of my car it seemed fine. I deemed this parking spot mine to myself as I pulled out of the lot. I made my way home, still smiling to myself.