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If only I could stay in this dream forever. I’d make you mine in every way.
I reach the empty space, planting my elbows on the counter and waiting for the bartender to come my way.
Glass shatters behind me, and I hear someone yell, “Fuck my life!” The voice is way too familiar. I turn back and look down at the woman behind me. She’s in heels and a blue dress. Her head is down as she looks at the shattered cup she just dropped, with liquid all around it.
“I am so sorry!” a guy says, holding his hands in the air in front of her.
“Watch where you’re going next time!”
The guy shrugs and disappears within the crowd on the dance floor. The woman looks up toward the bar, in search of help, but when I see her eyes, I’m surprised.
Holy fucking shit. “Gabby?” I call, standing taller.
Her eyes stretch wide when they shift over to me. She blinks twice, like she doesn’t believe the person she’s seeing either
“Marcel? What the hell are you doing here?” she asks with a smile.
“Here with a client, supposedly celebratin’. I’m sure the question is more what the hell are you doin’ here? This isn’t your kind of scene.”
“No, it’s not. I’m sure you can tell by the glass I just dropped on the floor that was full of fresh rum and coke.” She lets out an exasperated breath. I turn toward the bar and whistle for the bartender who is at the end of the counter, flirting with three girls. He hears me, and although he seems pretty annoyed, he comes rushing my way.
Glass shatters behind me, and I hear someone yell, “Fuck my life!” The voice is way too familiar. I turn back and look down at the woman behind me. She’s in heels and a blue dress. Her head is down as she looks at the shattered cup she just dropped, with liquid all around it.
“I am so sorry!” a guy says, holding his hands in the air in front of her.
“Watch where you’re going next time!”
The guy shrugs and disappears within the crowd on the dance floor. The woman looks up toward the bar, in search of help, but when I see her eyes, I’m surprised.
Holy fucking shit. “Gabby?” I call, standing taller.
Her eyes stretch wide when they shift over to me. She blinks twice, like she doesn’t believe the person she’s seeing either
“Marcel? What the hell are you doing here?” she asks with a smile.
“Here with a client, supposedly celebratin’. I’m sure the question is more what the hell are you doin’ here? This isn’t your kind of scene.”
“No, it’s not. I’m sure you can tell by the glass I just dropped on the floor that was full of fresh rum and coke.” She lets out an exasperated breath. I turn toward the bar and whistle for the bartender who is at the end of the counter, flirting with three girls. He hears me, and although he seems pretty annoyed, he comes rushing my way.
“Spilled drink over here, man, and there’s glass. Unless you want your boss gettin’ a lawsuit and havin’ him blame you for it, I suggest you call someone to clean it.”
The bartender gulps and nods, taking his job a little more seriously. He picks up a two-way radio behind him and says something. I grab several of the napkins on top of the counter and hand them to Gabby.
“Thanks.” She wipes her hands off.
When she’s done with them, she moves in the spot where a woman just left and dumps the crumpled towels on the counter.
“Who are you here with?” I look around, thinking maybe her asshole of a husband is going to pop up. Shit, I hope not.
“I came with my neighbor, Meredith. They have a table reserved over there.” She turns and points to an area behind her. I see several women at a large booth, drinking and laughing.
“Oh, so you’re makin’ friends? I knew you’d take my advice sooner rather than later.”
“Your advice sucks, okay? I don’t think they like me very much, hence the reason I’m at the bar getting my own drinks and not there right now.”
“How do you know they don’t like you?”
She shrugs, pretending not to care, but I can tell it’s bothering her. Her eyes drop down to a wet spot on her dress and she wipes it away. Her dress is way too fucking short. All I see are thighs and legs and, fuck me, if she doesn’t look fuck-able right now. “They’re older than me. Mid-to-late thirties. I think some of them are jealous, and it shows. It’s like some of them think I’d be a threat to them.”
“Hmm.” I turn around again, and this time the bartender is replacing glasses and doing his job. A cleanup guy comes and sweeps the glass and Gabby apologizes repeatedly to the man. He shrugs it off as just doing his job. While she explains what happened like she’s under interrogation, I request a rum and coke and a Modelo beer from the bartender. He whips them up and then slides them across the counter.
“How much have you had to drink?” I ask, picking up the rum and coke and handing it to her. She starts to reach for it, but I pull back a little, raising a brow.
She laughs. “What? Are you babysitting me now?”
“Not at all.”
The bartender gulps and nods, taking his job a little more seriously. He picks up a two-way radio behind him and says something. I grab several of the napkins on top of the counter and hand them to Gabby.
“Thanks.” She wipes her hands off.
When she’s done with them, she moves in the spot where a woman just left and dumps the crumpled towels on the counter.
“Who are you here with?” I look around, thinking maybe her asshole of a husband is going to pop up. Shit, I hope not.
“I came with my neighbor, Meredith. They have a table reserved over there.” She turns and points to an area behind her. I see several women at a large booth, drinking and laughing.
“Oh, so you’re makin’ friends? I knew you’d take my advice sooner rather than later.”
“Your advice sucks, okay? I don’t think they like me very much, hence the reason I’m at the bar getting my own drinks and not there right now.”
“How do you know they don’t like you?”
She shrugs, pretending not to care, but I can tell it’s bothering her. Her eyes drop down to a wet spot on her dress and she wipes it away. Her dress is way too fucking short. All I see are thighs and legs and, fuck me, if she doesn’t look fuck-able right now. “They’re older than me. Mid-to-late thirties. I think some of them are jealous, and it shows. It’s like some of them think I’d be a threat to them.”
“Hmm.” I turn around again, and this time the bartender is replacing glasses and doing his job. A cleanup guy comes and sweeps the glass and Gabby apologizes repeatedly to the man. He shrugs it off as just doing his job. While she explains what happened like she’s under interrogation, I request a rum and coke and a Modelo beer from the bartender. He whips them up and then slides them across the counter.
“How much have you had to drink?” I ask, picking up the rum and coke and handing it to her. She starts to reach for it, but I pull back a little, raising a brow.
She laughs. “What? Are you babysitting me now?”
“Not at all.”
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