A Dangerous Dance

Chapter 31

Hello everyone,

First off, happy Halloween; The best time of the year.

I've been getting a lot of messages asking when my next parts will be posted, so I wanted to update you quickly on my schedule. At the moment, I'm working full-time and I also have a little girl and a puppy, so my life is pretty busy! That said, I prioritize my writing any chance I get, even though free time is few and far between. I will post at minimum one new part at the end of each month, however I plan on posting way more as soon as life gets a little less hectic (i.e. when my puppy sleeps through the night and doesn't try to eat my cats anytime my back is turned...).

Happy reading :)

Anne-Eli xoxo

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Evangeline

A few drops of vodka splatter on my dress as I smack my third glass on the bar counter. Whatever is left at the bottom sloshes around violently before settling.

Jake, the bartender, looks my way with a raised brow.

"Another, please!"

My foot knocks over my suitcase, which was resting beside me at the bar. Because yes, I came straight to The Fidget when I got off the train.

"Darn it," I drawl, but soon erupt in a fit of laughter. If I could control it, I would.

Jake slides a brand new glass in front of me and I stare at the clear liquid as though as it might save me from the past twenty-four hours.

"You should think of how, and more importantly when, you're gonna get back home, Evangeline," he says.

To be honest, going back home has not even crossed my mind. I take the glass to my lips and swallow a large gulp without so much as flinching. The scorching liquor is somehow easier to swallow than the fact that Ethan read my deepest darkest thoughts.

I poured my damn soul on these letters. Damn him for wanting to look at my pain. My own private pain.

From the corner of my eye, I see Jake typing a text. Instead of slacking on the job, he should pour me another vodka. I've already accepted I will be saying goodbye to my last pay check tonight.

I peak down at my cellphone to notice four more missed calls from Ethan. I slide it back in my pocket, and take another sip.

I'd sooner die than see or talk to him again.

A few minutes, or hours, I'm not sure, go by and my head is resting on the bar top. The sticky residue on its surface doesn't even bother me. I'm in the zone.

"Pal, I never thought Jake would ever call me to come pick your drunk ass up." I hear Mariposa say.

"That was a gross exaggeration," I say, hiccuping, "I wouldn't say drunk."

"No, smashed is more like it." She takes the stool next to me and eyes my half empty glass. Then, she snatches it from my hand and gulps it down.

"Alcoholic" I say.

"You'll thank me tomorrow," she says. "So, I take it your trip with Ethan didn't go so well? Or was New York that much of a drag?"

I shrug. "Why would you think that?"

"Well for one, no one drinks straight vodka for fun. And that's a fact," she starts, "But also you still have your suitcase with you."

Right.

"When did you become a damn detective?" I ask.

I hear her stand up, rearranging her mini skirt as she does.