Asylum

Chapter 12: An Origami Unicorn

Saturday night

"Why do you call it an Origami Unicorn?"

I couldn't decide if I was more stunned or bummed. Second night in a row? Maybe I was losing my touch. I held out my arms and gestured to my costume for the evening. "You don't know who I am?" I demanded.

Shari took in the sheer black long-sleeved top and gartered stockings, tight black knee-high boots, jet vinyl bikini, platinum blond hair clipped up into a jaw-length rough bob, and inch-wide stripe of black eyeliner running from temple to temple. She shook her gleaming bald head, earrings swinging.

"No fuckin' clue," she admitted.

"She's Pris, from Blade Runner," Stefano said. He had slunk up behind me unnoticed, and his eyes were perusing my outfit with obvious approval. He picked up one of the remaining shots on my rail and took a cautious sip before throwing back the rest of it. "I must have seen that movie fifty times in college."

Shari hmmphed. "Well, I never saw it, so I guess the Origami Unicorn is just gonna stay a mystery."

Stefano smiled at the drink's name. "What's in it?" he asked, licking a drop of cream off his upper lip like a cat. "It's quite sweet."

I ticked off the ingredients on my fingers. "Two shots vanilla vodka, half-ounce Navan Vanilla, quarter-ounce elderflower syrup, finished with half'n'half, served in a champagne flute."

"Twelve?" he suggested.

"Well, I usually charge sixteen, but ..."

"Make it twelve," he said decisively. "I don't think it's going to be as popular as some of your other ones."

"I don't like sweet drinks," Shari added emphatically as she gave the bar in front of her station one last wipe with her clean-for-now bar rag. "What about that spicy Hell one you made a couple of weeks ago? That looked good. Why can't you just do that again?"

"That drink was She-Devil-appropriate," I explained defensively. "This one..." I picked up the final shot glass and leaned to Shari's far side to hand it to Sterling, "...is sweet and creamy, more Pris-appropriate."

"Pris was a sex-bot," Stefano agreed.

That wasn't really what I meant, but I decided it would be too awkward to explain.

"Hmmph. And speaking of sex-bots ..." Shari growled.

I followed her gaze to see Ivan, Mateo, and Marshall walking toward the end of the bar. I clenched my jaw as I met his smoldering gaze, hoping that Stefano and Shari were too busy watching the approaching trio to note my poorly suppressed reaction to the boss. The sight of that man was like an electric tongue gliding up my spine.

I saw Ivan nod to Stefano, pretending to ignore me completely, and the manager slapped the counter of the back bar twice in rapid succession. "Okay, people, get back to work."

Shari gave him a sarcastic salute and both bartenders turned to put the finishing touches on our stations before the unruly mob descended upon us.

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If I had thought that repeated exposure to Ivan would numb my awareness of him, I couldn't have been more wrong. I felt the weight of his gaze caressing me all night like a firm, slow hand. It was all I could do to keep making drinks while avoiding staring back up at the owner's box at him. As it was, the glimpses I managed to sneak from the corners of my eyes were incredibly distracting.

I was reliving his peeling me out of last night's Poison Ivy ensemble when the rude, clipped consonants of a private, East Coast education ripped me back to reality.