Heartbreaker [h.s.]

Chapter Three

With the sun beginning to set behind the skyscrapers ahead, I pull up to the last parking spot on the curb in front of our usual bar, The Harbor Hideout. Stepping out of my piece of shit mustang, I pull back the front seat to let Niall out. Louis's already gotten out and slammed my passenger door shut, the loud creak catching the attention of passersby.

The looks I get for this thing are hilarious. The black paint almost looks gray from the sun damage spots on the hood, so it no longer matches the rest of the car. I can see spots of rust forming right above my tires now too, but nothing I can do about that right now. If I had the money to maintain the paint job, it'd look much better. But a starving artist like myself barely has two pennies to rub together, so this is what I have to work with. The guys use and abuse the fact that I have a vehicle, a rarity in New York City, so I'm always the one to cart us around when they don't feel up for public transportation. Honestly I don't blame them. The subways smell like dead bodies 90% of the time, so I suck it up and drive us wherever we need to go.

Taking the rickety stairs down into the lower level of the building, Niall pushes open the faded blue metal door. The three of us take our usual three stools smack dab in the middle of the bar top where the wood no longer has its shine. Instead it's been covered in doodles, chips, and past patrons' names scratched in. I drum my fingers waiting for D to appear while Louis leans over eyeballing the bottles of liquor right in his reach. Seeing him grip the neck of the bottle I stop him with a hand on his shoulder. "Davina will have your head if you do that again."

Louis cocks his head and sighs at me. "You've seriously gotta loosen up. She doesn't care." He grabs a bottle of vodka and a small glass and pours himself a shot. "And I'll pay for it like I always do."

I decide not to argue because he's gonna do whatever he wants, but I won't get in the line of fire if she catches him. It's early enough in the evening that no one else is here so Davina usually uses this time to stock and take inventory. A few moments later, she emerges with a large box in her grip. Her jet black hair is tied back in a tight ponytail, face free of any blemishes. Her icy blue eyes hone in on Louis, who fails to put the bottle back where it belongs. He smiles and gives her a little wave with his fingers. "Hey gorgeous! How's it-"

"What did I tell you the last time!?" She harshly drops the box at her feet and grabs the bottle. "Don't. Take. My shit."

"I always pay, baby!" Louis defends.

"The owners would have my head if they saw you doing that!" She places the bottle back in its rightful place and begins cutting limes.

"They're never here, love."

"They don't have to be." Davina points up to the top left corner of the bar where a small white camera sits, red light flashing. "They fixed them last week."

Louis throws his head back and groans. "The fuck!"

"So no more jacking my bottles." She states as she cleans a glass. "You guys want the usual?"