Creating the Fire

Chapter 1 part 1

The night was filled with drunk blether and ear-splitting laughter. Some men and women were gathered into five or more member groups. They all tried to be louder than the others on the bar and it caused a lot of noise. He couldn't hear anything else or anything at all. On top of that, there was loud music playing on the huge old vintage radio. He was tired of those 'right behind you baby' continual lyrics and this popular-before-his-birth tunes, even though he kind of liked 50thies music it was getting to his nerves. Most of the visitors were over their forties, he didn't fit anyway.

The only words he could set apart were some nonsense like 'fuck you, Neil' and 'more beer' and the ones he would have liked to hear were absorbed by the uproar. To his luck, he was trained for this kind of situations. Body language was his next best friend. That meant he could easily tell, the woman in blood-red dress near the bar counter were inviting the man in an expensive Blueberry suit to her bed. It was quite an easy guess by how she moved her hips and sly snake-like body, but he could tell that she meant to extort the men not just be fucked over by his riches. Lady wanted something else, but it didn't interest him, because she simply couldn't be the one he tried to pick out of the crowd. Maybe they weren't here, yet.

He didn't spot anything, which could be a sign of them being close by. All seemed just usual people with their own interests. Some men in one of the corners were gambling and one of them with only one leg was stealing behind them. If they discovered the betrayal he probably will lose his other leg and if luck were in his favour he could afford another prosthesis. The men near the entrance were doing business, and neither of them seemed to come to terms with each other's conditions. Most of the crowd were just commoners. They were simply backgrounding for those, who wanted to mind their dark business.

His head was buzzing, because of the alcohol in his blood. He shouldn't drink in his work time, what had already been more than half a year of his life. In general, he could even say that all his life had been working or it could become like that if he were killed in the process. His life, what even didn't excite, was meant to be like that. This was his call and the path he had chosen. No turning back were allowed. The good thing about it, he never complained, because he simply liked adrenaline pulling through his veins and those near-death experiences. What could be more fun than having a gun to his head? There are people, who animadvert his way of thinking about life or what it means, but it was his and not their business.

The entrance door opened and three strong built men flew in with faces like they have been using sand-paper instead of soft toilet paper. He got his energy back and the alcohol in his veins made him a bit funny. After giving them a good once over, he smirked and switched his mood to the ultimate badass one he felt more like him than the everything-bores-me look which didn't suit him anyway. Finally, it was the right time to play around a little. He needed to seem like he were totally drunk and catch a little spotlight. Instead of using a label with big red letters 'attention' on his back he pulled gently his over combed stylised hair messily over his face and shouted with a false British accent. "I need more beer," his throat was sore, but it added effect to his play, even if he really could have one more, „You, yeah, you with the pretty big ass, " he eyed one of the bar girls with darker skin and short extremely fluffy hair, but the other got his attention and seemed really surprised. Maybe she thought that no one could care enough to give her his eyes. Correctly guessed, because he used his chances and threw the golden apple to the other. "Not you fatty. I meant 'pretty," he hoped she didn't get that joke, women are more dangerous than fire when they feel offended.

Fortunately, the dark-skinned lady started moving towards him with the glass of beer in her hands. The air around her was sour as if he had insulted her instead of the fatty one. At the same time, he glanced over for just a second to see the three men split up and take different positions in the bar. They were trying to corner him, better said he already was cornered. To see them act like this inside, meant they had men outside. He was pretty sure that he could handle them all, but at first, he needed to get to know them better. His senses said 'not your friend, but enemies enemies'.

"You need more beer?" a thin voice asked with a bitter tone and when he got her eyes on him she stared like saying 'don't you remember me '. He took himself a little time to remind, but he couldn't recall any memory of her. "Should I know you?" he asked flirty even though the woman seemed pretty pissed. When he didn't remember it simply meant that she wasn't important. "Should you know me?" she seemed even more furious as she spits those words onto his face. After that, her hand slapped his cheek and even if he saw it coming he didn't dodge, he was worth it. He felt his cheek burning and he knew it turned red fast in all probabilities. Just the next moment, when he wanted to smile charmingly the bar girl poured him over with the beer he should have had. Anyways it all was on his behalf, it made him stink like a real drunk.

" Let's rock everybody, let's rock" The music seemed to get even louder and people seemed to get noisier. He smiled like the devil himself, now he remembered. That was the girl the week before when he was pretending to be half-seas-over. It came backbiting him. They met in the library and the same night again in the club, when he was shitting with the dealers. It was meant to be just an innocent act when he tried to pretend he as Prince is living his life with all its benefits. Sadly it went too far and they almost slept, but the girl was too drunk and fall off. So he offered her money, so to say. He was certain she found it in the morning.

" The drummer boy from Illinois went crash, boom, bang. The whole rhythm section was the Purple Gang" It was almost disturbing to think in this uproar and the music got irritating as he tried to switch off and focus only on the men by whom he was surrounded. They eyed him like hungry lions waiting for their prey, but they didn't move from their places. One was almost behind him, he didn't need eyes for this knowledge, his senses were good enough.

The bar girl turned with disappointment as she had wished him to apologize and ask for another date. It seemed kind of funny and he snickered freely. "Let's rock everybody, let's rock. Everybody in the whole cell block. Was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock" at the same time he grabbed her wrist and pulled closer. Their lips almost touched, when he murmured. "I'd to it again," his eyes were in a beautiful fire, what seemed to burn him and he whispered with devilish grin being overwhelmingly sexy at the time," with pleasure." She simply wasn't important. He didn't want to ruin his perfect profile without weaknesses. Of course, he had some of those, but no one knew, at least beside him.

She broke her hand free because he allowed it, and she was blushing heavily, not because of the heat, but the anger. "Let's rock everybody, let's rock" she tried to say something, but the music were too loud and it was almost impossible to hear. He read from her lips. She was cursing and trying to say the worst things to him, her confidence was gone. That was bad. He needed some show. He needed her to cast him out. "Everybody in the whole cell block. Was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock" and he needed it badly or those tunes would turn deadly.

He took hold of her and without even trying they started dancing. At first, she tried to fight back weakly, but at the same moment, her legs felt like cotton. He was cursed because he hoped she to fight a little more. In every moment she could forgive him. She was too naive, too easy. "I hate you, Nick," she said softly to his ear and for a moment he thought that she is mistaken him, but as soon he remembered that he had lied. He always lied even if it wasn't needed. What could he possibly do, when he was so gifted in beautifying the truth?

" Dancin' to the Jailhouse rock, Dancin' to the Jailhouse rock" The song was going to end, he needed to finish it quickly so he kissed her ear and asked, „what's your name, beautiful?" She stopped suddenly and stood totally still, she was burning with anger. He hoped to disappoint her, but she was too composed to take it out on him.

The men eyed him closely and they started moving at the same time giving each other glances like they were up to something. Evelin, if he remembered her name correctly, shouldn't deal with his problems. "Was it too much?" he asked ruthlessly, pretending that he was seriously considering taking his money back. She flared up and tried to hit him again. This time he wasn't worth it, even if he actually were. He stopped her hand and held it easily in one place. "Indeed it was," smile broke free on his face, once more he pulled her close as if he were trying to prove that she was powerless, "that was lame sex, I've had better." 

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That's the end of the first part. 

The second part appears after a week or a little earlier, but I'm generally going to post after every two weeks. 

Hope you enjoyed it!

BTW, did you notice I added the song in this part on top? (It's not my favourite, I don't like it at all but It gave the perfect vibe for the bar :) )