“I need a favor.” I pull two hundred-dollar bills from my pocket, fanning them in his face. His eyes grow wide at the sight. It probably takes him all week to earn that much. “You see that girl over there sitting alone?” I ask, and he peeks around my shoulder before nodding. “I need you to spill her glass of wine on her. And be a dick about it. Can you do that?”
“Why?” he asks, confused, looking back at the woman. Rolling my eyes, I pull him back to look at me.
“So I can step in and save her. You follow me?”
“Yeah, but why? You have the hottest chick in here.” Observant little shit, isn’t he.
“It’s complicated,” I say in an attempt to explain. He just raises an eyebrow at me. “You want the money or not?”
He nods. “Hell yeah I want the money.”
I smile. “Good. Now earn it.” This kid might not be handsome, but his acting skills are spot-on. Bumping the table, he spills the girl’s wine into her lap. She gasps in shock as he smirks at her, and says something that has her cheeks turning red with embarrassment. Before management can intervene, I step in to save the damsel in distress.
“Watch it, kid,” I snap, warning him off with a look.
Putting his hands up in surrender, he backs away. “All right, man. My bad.”
“You okay, babe?” I ask the girl who is looking up at me with wide, hopeful eyes. Yes, honey. I’m real.
“I’m fine,” she says, all breathy.
Giving her a smirk, I turn those bedroom eyes on her. “Yes, ma’am, you are.” The southern accent—it gets ’em every time. “Can I buy you a drink?” I ask, my eyes moving to her lips. They’re pretty damn nice.
“I’d like that.”
“I’ll be right back, beautiful.” I leave her with a wink, and she blushes a deep red.
Walking to the bar, I notice Diem is watching me from her seat. A man sits next to her, but she pays him no attention. She narrows her eyes on me—a look I return when she smiles at the man next to her. If she’s trying to make me jealous, it isn’t going to work.
Drinks in hand, I walk back over to my potential phone number girl, who beams at the sight of me. If she noticed the look Diem gave me, she doesn’t care.
“I’m going to run to the ladies’ room and see if I can get this out,” she says full of regret. “Just two minutes.”
“Take all the time you need. I’ll be right here,” I promise. She blushes again and hurries off to the bathroom. This dating shit is kinda fun. I should do it more often.
Reluctantly, I look over my shoulder to see how Diem is doing but she isn’t in her seat. An uneasy feeling comes over me when I think about where she might be. It’s not that I’m worried about someone hurting her, I’m more worried about her hurting someone. In particular, my damsel in distress.
Hoping that I’m wrong, I walk to the women’s bathroom and push the door open a little. I can see the girl scrubbing away at her dress with a towel while Diem looks on in silence. From where they stand, they can’t see me.
“Who’s that guy with all the tattoos?” Diem asks, pretending to be nice.
I can’t see her face, but I hear the girl sigh. “I don’t know, but fuck he’s hot.” I smile at the compliment. And silently thank her.
“Yes he is,” Diem agrees, defeat already in her tone. “He didn’t call you pretty girl, did he?”
“No,” the girl answers, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Diem is turning to leave and I start to shut the door when the girl says something that stops Diem in her tracks.
“What did you say?” Oh shit.
“I said he called me beautiful.” Motherfuck me.
“Did he?” Diem’s voice is cold.
Please don’t say anything else. Please don’t say anything else. “Yes, and he had the cutest smirk when he said it.” Shit. Shit. Shit.
“I bet he did.” I know that tone. She’s going to make me pay for this. Dearly.
Before she can walk out, I leave and find her potential date at the bar. Grabbing him on the shoulder, I flash him a look of death. “You’re fucking with my girl. Leave right now, or I’ll splatter your brains all over this fucking bar.” With a deer-in-the-headlights look, he leaves the bar with haste and I reclaim my seat just as Diem walks up.
She glances at her date’s empty chair, then back at me. “What did you do?” she asks cautiously.
I start to answer, when the girl rushes past us and out the door without a glance in our direction. Seeing her, I change my answer from a lie to the truth. “Probably the same thing you did.” And with a smirk, I add an endearment that has her smiling, letting me know I’m forgiven. “Pretty girl.”