I took another sip of wine, savoring the rich flavors for a moment before responding. “Why does a woman need to have a man or a group of friends to enjoy a night out?” I asked, fatigue and alcohol making me bold. “Can’t a person just want a glass of wine by themselves every now and then?”
His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Touché. You remind me of my sister—she’s always saying stuff like that.”
“Oh really?” I leaned in, intrigued. “What else does your sister say?”
He grinned, meeting my gaze. “Oh, you know, stuff like ‘If you want something done right, do it yourself’ or ‘Don’t wait around for someone to make your life better.’ She’s quite the character.”
I laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Sounds like she’s got a strong personality.”
“She definitely does,” he agreed, his smile widening. “She’s got a way with words that makes me look like a novice in comparison.”
I tilted my head, playfully teasing him. “So, you’re saying you can’t argue with her and win?”
“Exactly,” he replied with a chuckle. “She’s got this knack for making me either agree with her or concede defeat. I’ve learned it’s easier just to go with the flow.”
I laughed, enjoying the easy rapport between us. “I’d love to meet her sometime. She sounds like someone I’d get along with.”
The bartender’s grin grew wider. “Well, if you ever do meet her, just be prepared for a debate. She’s a force to be reckoned with.”
I raised my glass in a mock toast. “I’ll keep that in mind. And if you ever want to practice your debating skills, I’m always up for a challenge.”
He laughed. “Deal. I’ll make sure to brush up on my arguments. Name’s Bowie by the way.”
“I’m Angie,” I said.
“Good to meet you, Angie,” Bowie nodded. “Glad you stopped in tonight.”
Suddenly I heard the faint buzz of a phone.
“Sorry,” Bowie said. “One sec.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and glanced at the display.
“Her ears must have been burning,” he continued. “My sister, Lila. She sent me the link to some video.”
Clicking on it, I watched as his smile quickly turned to a frown.
“What is it?” I asked, curiously.
He turned the phone towards me, where the familiar sight of Angel filled the tiny screen.
I froze, my heart skipping a beat as I watched footage of my decoy stepping out of the hotel and into a waiting limo. The crowd outside was cheering, and the cameras were flashing rapidly, capturing every moment of my public persona’s departure.
“The one and only Angel,” he answered with disgust.
Chapter Two
Bowie
I didn’t plan on working tonight, but life had a way of making plans for me. The bar had been buzzing with activity lately, the kind that made me both proud and uneasy. Success was a double-edged sword. I’d worked my ass off to get here, clawing my way up from nothing. But with every new patron and every new accolade, there was always that nagging feeling in the back of my mind, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’d lived with nothing for so long that I didn’t trust having something.
So when my bartender called in sick, I stepped in. It wasn’t a big deal; I’d done it plenty of times before, and I liked staying connected to the place I’d built. Sunset Vines had become more than just a bar; it was a symbol of everything I’d overcome. Growing up with addict parents who were never around, getting shuffled through foster care with Lila—it was a miracle we’d even survived, let alone thrived. So yeah, I took pride in what I’d achieved, but that didn’t mean I was comfortable with it. Success still felt like something that could be taken away at any moment.
The place was packed tonight, which was great for business but hell on my nerves. I could handle crowds, but the constant noise, the clinking glasses, and the low hum of chatter always got to me after a while. Maybe it was a remnant of my childhood—never knowing what to expect, always being on edge, waiting for the next bad thing to happen. Even now, with a thriving business, a solid roof over my head, and a life I’d built from the ground up, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it could all disappear in an instant.
I’d been pouring a glass of wine for a regular when I noticed her. The woman with the red scar on her face—Angie. There was something almost magnetic about her, like she didn’t belong in the sea of faces that washed in and out of here every night. She was small, thin-boned, with a petite frame and pale skin. Her heart-shaped face was framed by long blonde hair, and those big green eyes of hers seemed to hold a depth that most people probably couldn’t see. But that scar—it made me wonder. Was she in a car accident? Was that why she was here alone?
I’d watched her, trying to figure out what it was about her that drew me in. It wasn’t just her looks, though she was definitely beautiful. It was something else. She didn’t seem interested in the crowd around her, didn’t care who was looking at her or not. She was just...there, like she belonged in some other world but had somehow ended up in mine.
When I’d commented on the fact that I was surprised no one was joining her, her sassy answer made me like her immediately. Talking to her felt...different, like she was someone I could actually connect with for a change.