Page 4 of A Sinner's Virtue
I think the universe is sending me a sign, seeing as the sky decided to open up on me the moment I stepped out of the car. I rush through the door of the closest bar. I was planning to walk up and down this strip and then decide on a place to try out this whole seeing where the night goes thing.
But as soon as I step inside the bar, I start second-guessing my decision. I can’t do this. The place is crowded. I can feel my skin crawling. Itching. It’s the first sign that I’m about to panic.
I take a deep breath and dig my nails into my palms. I will not panic. I can do this. Then I force my legs to take step by step until I reach the counter. I just need a drink. Maybe after a bit of alcohol, I’ll have the courage to actually sit here longer than five minutes.
“Hey, sweetheart, what’ll it be?” a barman asks, his forearms resting against the wooden top as he leans over to meet my eyes.
“Um, just a cosmopolitan, please,” I ask him.
“Sure thing,” he says before spinning around. I spend the next few minutes taking in the bar’s interior.
I can do this, I repeat to myself.
I’m already sitting on a stool. At a bar. I’ve just ordered a drink. And I don’t feel like I need to run for the hills.
The bartender places a glass in front of me. “Here you go, sweetheart,” he says with an encouraging smile.
“Thank you.” I pick up the glass, bring it to my lips, and sip at the sweet concoction. I’m not a huge drinker, but I do know a couple of these and I’ll be way more relaxed.
Something presses against my side. Not something, someone. I lower my glass, slowly placing it back on the counter. Pivoting in my seat with my hand on my bag. I can reach for something, anything, if the need arises. Although I think turning around was a big mistake when a man pushes closer to me. Practically trapping me between him and the edge of the bar.
I do my best not to panic. I’m safe. This bar is full of people. Nothing is going to happen to me with all these people here to witness it.
“I haven’t seen you here before. What’s your name?” the guy asks.
My eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape. I need to get this man away from me. He reeks of beer. It’s disgusting. How anyone can think it’s attractive, I have no idea.
Before I can respond, ask him to take a step back, another man shows up, pushing his way between the first guy and me.
“Hey, babe. Sorry I’m late,” he says with a wink, while my glare is hooked on a pair of dark-brown eyes until he isn’t looking at me anymore. Instead, his attention is on the other man. “Mind backing the fuck away from my girl?”
The next thing I know, the first guy disappears into the crowd. And then, as if nothing happened, my new self-proclaimed boyfriend, who smells nothing like beer and everything like whiskey and citrus, sits on the stool next to mine and smiles. “Like I was saying, sorry I’m late. I got held up at the office.”
I glance to my left. Surely he’s not talking to me, but when I return my attention his way, he just keeps smiling. “Do I know you?” I ask in a low tone.
“I’m Marcel.” He holds out a palm.
I look at his hand. His large, tanned hand. Before tentatively placing my much smaller palm in his. “Zoe.”
“So, Zoe, did you know that wanker or am I like your knight in shining armour, saving you from spending the rest of your evening trying to evade him?” Marcel smirks.
“First, you didn’t save me. I could have saved myself.” I sit up straighter. One of the many things I learned from Izzy was to never let a man think you need him. Another? Don’t rely on being saved. Help yourself. Fight for yourself with everything you have.
“I have no doubt.” Marcel picks up a crystal glass from the counter. Where did that even come from? Before it reaches his lips, he tilts his head. “Just out of curiosity, how were you planning on saving yourself?”
I smile. “Well, let’s see. I could have shot him in the balls with the pistol I’m hiding in my bag.” I pause, waiting for his reaction. The guy doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even glance at the bag I’m still clutching in my hand. “Or if I was worried about the noise, there’s always the small blade I have within arm’s reach. I could have gone right for his neck. That would be messy, though.”
“And a bullet to the balls wouldn’t be?” Marcel laughs.
“I guess you’re right, but it would be much more satisfying.” I swipe up my drink from the bar top and gulp down a mouthful.
“I don’t know… Watching the fucker bleed out on the floor, flailing around and holding his neck would be pretty satisfying too.”
“Maybe.” I shrug.
“Is that what you do, Zoe? Go around to bars, looking for some helpless guy you can lure back to your lair to cut open?”
“It isn’t, but now that you mentioned it, it could be a good career move.” I smirk. “Rewarding even. Want to be my first client?”
