It was Christmas Eve. It was also a Saturday. Holtwood bar on the corner of West Apricot street and Nolan avenue was nearly empty except for bartender, Davie, and two customers, a man and a female. The man drank a Jack Daniels and the woman drank a martini. These two individuals didn’t pay any attention to each other. In fact, the only time they spoke was to Davie. The man stared at his cell phone, a text message. The woman was writing in a red leather bound journal. She was an aspiring writer though, in her opinion, she’d never make it anywhere. She was no Ernest Hemingway or Harper Lee.
She sighed as Davie came over to her. “Another martini?” He asked and the woman nodded. Davie took her glass and began to make her another. “So why aren’t you with family?”
“Don’t have one.” She shrugged.
“What you writing?” He asked, shaking the martini.
“Good question.” She chuckled.
Davie turned around as he poured the martini into the glass. “Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.”
“I’ve been here before but not in a long, long time.”
“Yeah but...I know your face. You went to Westwood high right?”
“Nah. I was homeschooled.”
“Did your siblings go?”
“No.”
“Huh. Well, I gotta say miss, you look familiar.”
The woman looked up and smiled softly. “Well, we haven’t met. I can assure you.” Her smile was sweet, spreading her thick, full lips apart. It almost seemed to illuminate her, lighting her up like a Christmas tree.
Davie went over to the man who still stared at his phone in solemn sadness. His blue eyes were blank and seemingly emotionless. But that may have been because of the Jack. Davie stood in front of the man before offering to get him another drink. The man looked up and muttered; “Yes, please.” Davie got him another glass of Jack and then gave it to the man. After that, he went to a seat on the far side of the bar, looking at a Playboy magazine.
The woman, who was much younger than the man, looked over at him. He sat two bar stools away from her. Her wide, expressive eyes traced his features; His blond hair, his blue eyes, his strong jaw, and his depressed manner. Her heart sank. She could see the anger, the disappointment and discontent on his face. As a writer, she had learned these feelings can destroy the human soul. As a writer, she observed people and their mannerisms. She was an expert at it. And this man…He had been through some tough shit.
The man looked back at her-At her, then at the journal she was writing in. He stared at her, she stared back. After a few seconds, they turned their heads away from each other. But then, the man looked up again. He saw her curly dark brunette hair and how it reached her mid back. He saw her green-blue eyes that watched the paper as she wrote. He watched her hand as it quickly squalled across the paper. He had never been a particularly good writer but he was an excellent reader. It was his favorite pastime besides, of course, drinking.
Something about the woman enticed him. She was very pretty and even through his blurry vision-both from drinking and not having his glasses on-he could see every sharp detail of her face. It’s quite funny how certain faces are more attractive than others. Afterall, isn’t everyone just bone underneath? But she was very lovely, very well built. She was in her twenties, maybe twenty six or twenty seven. Either way, she was young.
“You’re the lawyer from all those ads, right?” The woman said to the man, still writing and not looking up.
“Yeah, I am. You recognized me?” The man answered.
