Sinner

Jonathan Morrone

"If I ask kindly enough, will you give me a cigar?" I asked, leaning over the bar counter.

Sam— the all American, blonde and blue eyed, hired to flirt around, bartender— looked up from the sphere of ice he held. "No."

"I'll pay you."
"30 dollars a piece."
"Thirty!?" I exclaimed picking up a tiny metal hammer from the selection of bar utensils on the counter top. "I might as well buy a laced one at that price."

"Leave me alone." He said moving to the other side of the bar to serve the drink. Sam never had much patience for my odd requests.

I didn't blame him, it was a little too crowded for anyone to be patient.
All around the counter, customers sat on pastel stools ordering one drink after the other, as they yelled over the music to communicate.

The bar was on the rather quieter side of the casino, separated from the gambling halls and the strip clubs.
The bright lights and aqua walls made drinkers feel lightheaded and desire more booze. It made them seem of the much more gentle lot than they were.

I picked up a serving glass and rubbed a sliced lime wedge along the lip. Sam returned with the volcanic salt, which he placed in front of me.

"I won't light it." I explained pouring the salt in a saucer and rimming the glass. "I just want to see how you smoke one."
"What?" He frowned.
"I just want to check how you hold one in your lips." I said. "You know like, with a cigarette you don't have to constantly hold it with your hands, but a cigar's bigger.. so can you hold it with your lips? can you talk.. with it in your mouth."

Sam took the glass from my hand and stacked 4 ice cubes in it. "Remind me again, why do I even put up with you?" He asked. "Give me one good reason."
"I'm the only one here sober enough to have a conversation with." I said.
"Just because you're sober, doesn't mean you're exceptional company, Lure." He said. "Skylar just ran into her high school boyfriend, I'd much rather listen to her regrets."

I smiled at him.
Lucrecia may be my given name, but no one called me by it. The nickname started out with everyone calling me Lu in kindergarten, since Lucrecia was a mouthful for toddlers and somewhere in the halls of Busted Banishers it turned into Lure.

"You don't even split tips with me, the least you can do is give me a cigar." I said ignoring him.
He considered the offer for a moment as he prepared a Screwdriver.

"I saw Jude get into an argument with Vlad just now, so I don't wanna run into her...." He started, looking past me, watching something with narrowed eyes. "If you take this drink to table 41M, you may have your unlit cigar."
"I'd much rather pay 30 dollars."
"41M," he said, "that's the price, take it or leave it."

No one wanted to run into Jude when she was in a bad mood. God knows, no one wanted to run into her on a good day either.

"Fine." I winced. "But Cigar, first."

Sam took out a mini tray, placed the glass in the centre and a cigar on its side. "Now get lost and don't show me your face again... tonight."

I smiled wryly as he added 'tonight'. Sam hated to admit it, but he did enjoy my company.
More so because I happily drank— and complemented— his failed drinks.

"Thank you!" I picked up the tray and left the bar. "And tell Skylar if she leaves Ericsson for her high school sweet treat, I'll take him."
"I heard the sweet treat's hot."
"Ericsson has blue hair and a daughter I'd happily adopt, plus he hates me." I said. "You can't top that."
"41M, get lost!"

I looked down at the orange drink in my hand, and the cigar that accompanied it, waking into the Moscow Mule Hall to serve the order, slowly moving through the crowds of people, careful not to spill a drop.