Stale cigarette smoke, this turned my stomach a little. I surveyed the room and noticed he wasn’t here. Good, I thought. I needed some serious space to clear my mind if I was ever going to decide what to do.
Why is that man at the end of the bar staring at me? My thoughts were interrupted by a deep, strong voice. The bartender, asking me what my poison was.
“Vodka press. With a lime”, this was my signature drink. Classic. Refreshing. And the vodka always took the edge off. I’ve always had a mature drinking palate, and I’ve wandered off the beaten path of the Press from time to time, but it’s crisp, refreshing, citrus, zing, with the smooth heat of a well vodka always pulled me back.
The bartender set a napkin in front of me, followed by my drink.
I swirled the lime in the cocktail glass for a few minutes, replaying the events of the day in my mind.
Seriously, what is that guy looking at? I don’t recognize him… he looks kind of creepy, sitting there, all dark and mysterious, not talking to anyone, probably not waiting for anyone… have I seen him in here before? No. Definitely not… what is his deal…
And as if this man could hear my thoughts, he stood up and walked over to me, stopped, sat in the bar stool next to me, but did not make eye contact. Not at all.
I sat there for what seems like an eternity. My mouth was suddenly dry from nervousness, my throat was scratchy, I went to speak, but didn’t know what to say, so I grabbed for my drink and swished the whole thing down!
“Atta girl…” the man said.
“I appreciate a woman who can drink, who can, handle her vodka…. Vodka, right?” he replied, voice was much smoother than I would have thought.
“Yes, it’s a Press, I…”
He interrupts me, “I have seen you here before. Have you seen me?”
I pause for a few seconds, my mind is going different directions… “I don’t think so. No. No, I have not seen you before. I do come here, not that often, but often enough. I’m always here with my, well, with this guy, Johnny, we, well, it’s not important. I don’t know where Johnny is right now. I guess it doesn’t matter, he’s probably…”
He stops me again, “I have a job for you. I have something that needs, a little finesse. I have men to do the job, but, this will require a woman’s touch. Are you interested?”
“Wait a sec, ” I reply, “How do I know you? How do you know what I do, what I’m able…”
“You don’t know me….but I know you”
~ J. lefever ~