Packing Heat(8)

Rafa





I stood outside the building, leaning up against the wall.

This might not have been my best idea ever, but I couldn’t help myself, apparently. I didn’t know this girl, and she could have been a fucking spy or some shit like that, but that wasn’t stopping me. I’d been dealing with enough shit lately, and for once I wanted a little fucking distraction.

And Jessica was the perfect distraction. I’d been thinking about her ever since the moment I walked away from her, and now I was finally going to pick up where I had reluctantly left off.

Nothing was stopping this tonight short of a fucking emergency.

After about ten minutes, a cab pulled up at the curb. She climbed out and I felt my pulse spike in my veins, and that distinct and familiar feeling came rushing back.

She smiled at me, a little unsure. “Where are we?” she asked.

I couldn’t help but laugh. She was wearing shorts that made her ass look fantastic and a shirt that didn’t leave much to the imagination. It screamed sex to me, but it was nice enough that she didn’t feel too dirty, I was willing to bet.

“Never heard of The Bar?”

“That’s what I’m asking. Which bar?”

I laughed again, grinning hugely. We were standing in a mostly empty neighborhood outside a windowless white building with absolutely zero markers on it.

“It’s called ‘The Bar.’ That’s the name.”

She groaned. “That’s awful.”

“Maybe, but you’ll like it.”

“It looks like a prison.”

I walked over to the door and knocked. A second later, a slide flicked across and a man’s eyes looked out at me.

“Fidelio,” I said to him.

The slide shut with a bang.

Jessica sidled up next to me. “This is seriously like a movie.”

“That’s the idea.”

The door slowly swung open. Music flooded out into the street. I stepped inside and she followed me slowly.

The Bar was a new concept place, but I happened to know a guy. We moved into the darkened room and everything was polished wood. It was strangely modern, as if someone had decided to build an updated British pub or something like that. The place was crowded, despite the outside of the building and the relatively remote location. Everyone was young and cool, or older and filthy rich.

I was right in the middle, where I fucking liked to be. Rich but not a fucking millionaire, young but not a douchebag hipster. Jessica fit right in.

“Right this way,” a man said to us as we passed into the main room. We followed him, and he sat us at a little table in the corner of the place.

“How did you even know about this?” she asked.

“It’s pretty popular right now,” I said. “Plus, I’m in the restaurant business.”

She smiled slightly. A waiter came up and I ordered a whisky. She asked for a white wine.

When he was gone, I leaned toward her. “Are you glad you came?”

“Not yet,” she said. “I haven’t decided.”

I smirked at her. “That’s a lie. I can tell your mind is already on what we’ll do after we eat.”

“You mean when you walk me home and you may or may not get a chaste kiss on the mouth?”

“I was thinking I’d take you back to my place, but we wouldn’t be able to wait until we got there. I’d end up going down on you right in the backseat of the cab.”

“Oh really, while the cabbie watched?”

“We’d pay him handsomely, obviously.”

“I don’t know. That sounds pretty gross.”

I shrugged, grinning at her. “What can I say? I bring the best out in people.”

She couldn’t help but laugh as our drinks came. I held mine up. “Cheers,” I said.

“Cheers.” We clinked glasses. “So, you said you were in the restaurant business?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, what is it then?”

“I own two restaurants. And a few other businesses.”

“Like what?”

I smiled at her. “Does it matter? How about you tell me what you do instead.”

“I’m a waitress,” she said quickly, and I suddenly knew she was lying.

But why would she lie about that? Maybe she was ashamed of her job, or maybe she didn’t want me to know what she did. There was a red flag waving in my mind, but I shook my head and ignored it.

Like a fucking moron.

I finished my drink instead. “And how’s working for tips going for you?”

“It’s okay, I guess,” she said. “I’m more interested in this mystery job of yours, though.”

“Of course you are. I’m sure you’re very interested in what I do.”