Chapter 2
“A tequila Sunrise and a margarita, please,” I said.
“Are you on a roll tonight?” the bartender asked me while pouring the liquor.
“No, I just really need something to drink.” I sat down on a stool at the bar and rested my head on the palm of my hand.
He snorted and gave me the two glasses. I took the tequila first and sipped out the delicious tart citrus and sweet grenadine. I was ignoring that stupid voice in my head that said I was pathetic, drinking alone at a casino bar, with nothing but an old laptop and a case full of all my belongings.
I took another sip and looked the other way, toward the poker table. I saw Mister Hunkalicious (yes, he needed a name) flipping cards. He was letting the old lady win and I’d seen her glow all night long as he entertained her. They got up and she whispered into his ear. He held up his hand and she turned around, but just before he walked away, she grabbed his butt.
I almost blew bubbles into my drink from laughing, so I quickly set it down.
The old lady went to the elevator while the guy I wanted sat down again to finish his poker game.
I drank up what was left in my glass and reached for the other one. I was feeling tipsy already, but I couldn’t care less. I needed to feel at ease in order to write again. Actually, I was a much better writer when I was drunk, which was one of the things I was least proud of, but on which I was dependant for money to flow, which was of course needed to actually live.
Ah, the wondrous horrible circle of life.
“Cheers,” I said to the bartender, who raised an empty glass with me. I took another gulp from the glass and closed my eyes to wash away the guilt.
“Such an early evening for a lady like you to be drinking like that, don’t you think?”
My eyes shot open. Looking to my left, I saw Him sitting there. Mister Hot was sitting right next to me, on a stool, flexing his wrist to look at the time.
I promptly put down the glass and took my head off the palm of my hand.
Clearing my throat, I said, “I don’t know, you tell me.”
He smiled. “There are many more ways to have a good time.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Like what? Making a young boy’s day? Entertaining an old lady? Enticing lusty women?”
He chuckled with a low grunt that made my insides quiver. “I prefer the latter.”
I muffled a laugh and took another sip.
The guy beckoned the bartender and said, “I’ll have a Dirty Martini, please.”
He faced me again and held out his hand. “Dominic Fury.”
Dominic Fury? Sexy guy has a name now and it’s a hot one too. Oh geez.
“Julie Valentine.”
“Valentine? What a charming surname.”
I chuckled. “I wish I could say the same about yours, but it would just set me on fire.”
God, I’m awful with slapstick jokes.
He laughed. “I usually do more than just set girls on fire.” His wink did exactly that.
The bartender arrived with his drink and Dominic raised it. “To a wonderful evening.”
I toasted with him and we both took a sip from our glasses. It was quiet for some time, so I thought I’d break the ice. “It was very nice of you to give that oldie a great time.”
“You think so? Well, I guess, but she did pay for it.”
“Yeah, but it all goes to a charity, right? Plus, you could’ve ditched her after a while and you didn’t. I know plenty of men who’d rather rid themselves of grannies like her, grabbing your butt and stuff like that.”
Dominic chortled. “Hehe, yeah, she packed quite a pinch, if you know what I mean. Luckily she ditched me after a while. She said she was tired, but that she had a lovely time with me. Guess a little butt-grabbing is worth it.”
“You mean making people happy?”
“You could call it that. It’s what I do, anyway.” He drank some more and loosened his collar. “So, what’s your life’s calling?”
I snorted. “More like a crazy whim, I’d call it.”
He raised his eyebrows and waited for me to speak.
“I’m a writer,” I admitted, reluctantly. I shuddered from the thought of what usually comes next. People would either ask me if I’d ever make enough money, if I’d even sell anything, if it was just a hobby …
“Oh, really? Guess that must mean I’m drinking with a famous person then. I’ll drink to that.”
He took another sip while I laughed.
“Eh, not so much,” I said. “I wish, though.” I took my last gulp and signaled the bartender to get me another.
“Hmm, so business isn’t going so well? What do you write?”
I stirred my straw around in my empty glass. “Steamy romances. I’d be selling more if I knew what to write, but inspiration doesn’t come easy nowadays.”