Check, Please?

Chapter 6

I tugged at the bottom of my blue sequin dress as the valet offered me his hand.  My white heels clicked on the pavement as I stood to the side of the car and waited for Harry.  He grinned smugly at me as he waltzed around the front of the car and looked me up and down.  He bought me the form-fitting dress for my birthday but purposefully bought it a size too small.  When I came out of my room with it on that night, Harry’s eyes immediately went to my chest which was busting out of the top.

“Too small, I need the next size up-“ I had said, hoisting the top of the dress up as much as I could.

Harry had jumped up from the couch and grabbed my hands to stop me. “Trust me, that one fits perfectly.”

I felt less that perfect as we entered The Lock, yet another one of our favorite clubs in the city. My hair didn’t curl right and my face already felt a little bit greasy, which always just made my whole body feel dirty for some reason. Harry knew that I was unhappy with my appearance and wrapped his arm around my waist as we stepped through the heavy crowd. “You look stunning.”

I rolled my eyes at him.  Harry chuckled and kissed my forehead before stepping off into the crowd. I watched as he approached a tall, skinny brunette.  He slid his arm around her waist and once again I could hear him in my mind. “There are a lot of beautiful women in this club but no one as radiant as you. Are you hear alone, Beautiful?”

I walked to the bar and sat down, pulling on the bottom of my dress as I slid up onto the bar stool.  Before I even had time to order a shot of water, a man approached me.

“Let me get you a drink,” he said, and before I could protest he leaned across the bar and signaled for the bartender.  As the bartender directed his attention toward the man, the man hesitated, realizing he didn’t really know what to order.  I was a little taken aback by the forwardness of the man, but I quickly caught on to the fact that he didn’t usually do this.  “You like the fruity stuff? Or are you more of a hard liquor kinda girl?”

“I don’t care,” I mumbled as I studied his appearance.  His suit was old and he had a bald head occasionally dotted with a sun spot.

“We’ll have two shots each of straight vodka,” he said to the bartender.  The short man behind the counter nodded and then looked to me.  I had been here so often that he knew the deal, and without even asking he gave the man beside me two shots of vodka and provided me with two shots of water.  The bald man didn’t notice.

“To a great night,” the bald man said, lifting his shot at me and then throwing it back.  The vodka didn’t seem to phase him at all; his eye didn’t even twitch as the harsh liquid burned down his throat.  I hesitated with my water, still studying the man but soon picked up my water and threw it back like a shot.

“Ahh, I figured you weren’t a fruity drink person,” he said, twirling his second shot between his fingers.  That’s when I noticed a tan line around his fourth finger. I looked down at his pants, pulling a little tighter in his legs as he sat himself on a stool.  Where his pocket was, I could see a ring pressing into the fabric of the pocket.

When I looked back up at the man, he looked confused. “You certainly like to talk, don’t you?” He chuckled, trying to make light of my awkward silence.

I smiled. “Only when I need to.” I stuck my hand out to him. “I’m Scotlan.”

He grinned, revealing his yellow teeth. “I’m Jason, but you can call me Big Papa.”  I grimaced as the older man laughed at himself.

“And how old are you, Jason?”

The man’s laugh turned into a cough and he threw back his second shot quickly. “I’m sorry,” he said, leaning toward me after he swallowed. “I couldn’t hear you over the music! What was that?”