The tension between the two of them is palpable as I try my best not to dwell on their increasingly escalating verbal argument, as a source of entertainment in the otherwise quiet bar the scene can't go unnoticed though.
Vicious words exchanged on what had started as hushed voices, his face snarling with a flushed anger as he continually sneers at her. Her face is a mixture of shock and hushed pleading, of the two of them she seems the most open, the most honest. She looks as though she's trying to reason with him, her hands falling over his right forearm as they talk. Now like me many of the the bars other occupants can't help but notice him them not least as he snatch Ed his arm viciously away, knocking over the pint glass of lager caught by his elbow a loud smash brings a hushed silences to the room as it hits the wooden floor. Causing even the barman to look up from serving the two suits stood at the bar who turn and jeer in pantomime fashion as the arguing male shakes his head, either at her or the cracked glass at his feet.
"Sack the Juggler," a voice in the far corner of the bar calls out.
She in reaction stands her ground her head literally in her hands, or hand, shaking her head at his tempestuous act and reaction. I take a sip of my own drink and keep watching what plays out in my line of sight. His over reaction continuing now as he turns on his heels and heads at pace from the bar, once again to the amusement of the two suites who make a comment which I don't hear clearly.
"Fuck off." he hurls at them angrily, which I do hear perfectly clearly over the juke box which seems to play an ill fitting guitar song in accompanied soundtrack to the argument that's literally just exploded in the middle of O'Leary's Irish Bar.
I shake my head a little myself amused by the theatre of what's played out. My eyes come back to rest on her though, surreptitiously albeit as I pretend to flick through screens on my phone . Dressed in a three quarter length black fitted leather jacket over a short black skirt and a burgundy colour top that cuts across ample cleavage. Her bare slender legs held up on exquisite black high heel ankle boots. Even as she scowls, frustratedly slapping her hand down on the high level bar table that stands before her there's a beauty to her exotic look.
The delicate hue of her mocha skin suggests that she's of mixed heritage and her face is lightly made up. A face that's framed by straightened dark brown hair that falls just to the shoulders of her jacket, the tips of her hair dyed a lighter shade of brown, almost blonde at the tips. She's perfection.
She snatches her tall glass of what I'd guess to be vodka tonic and takes a heavy swig. Her cheeks flushed with anger as she stares back towards the door through which he'd just exited.
I sit there in the booth watching her, praying he won't return.
***********
A little before 1am and the bell to signal the end of last orders rings through the bar.
"I guess I better get my coat," she offers, looking up at me misty eyed over her 5th or was it her 6th strong brewed 'Long Island Ice Tea' as we sit on high legged chairs at the bar. Given the subtle over pours of Cola from Steve the barman while I appeared to be matching her drink for drink I would be lucky if I was on my second sale cocktail of the evening. I keep myself sober, I keep my wits about me.
"Really?" I suggest looking across the bar to the as Steve the Head Barman who we've accosted in the last three hours to help drown Melody Bates sorrows. "I was about to suggest a lock-in."
"I might be inclined to have my arm twisted," Steve offers on a sincere smile as he looks around the venue.
"Sounds..." Melody begins to offer.
"That's the perks of owning the place," I tilt my head towards Steve cutting across Melody, who doesn't seem to mind.
"Wait... wait you own this place?" Melody enquires on her soft accent.
"Not me ...but he does," I state pointing a finger towards Steve. "I think I just own the largest bar tab around here."
"Ahh now you mention that..." Steve interjects.
"Leave it," I offer.
To my left Melody softly chuckles, while over her shoulder I notice the front of house Security Team rounding up the patrons and offering them the opportunity to finish drinks before leaving the bar.
"Big question is... Can I trust you two?" she offers with a smile and fixes her eyes on me in particular, they narrow as she takes a sip of her drink. "I hardly know you and here I am late at night letting you talk me into all sorts of mischief"
"Who mention mischief?" I answer, deliberately avoiding her question.
"You can trust me," Steve answers before I can say another word. "You cannot trust this man... at least not to pay you... ever"
She laughs again throwing her head gently back as she does. Her beauty captivates me, as it had since I first set eyes on her during that heated little exchange with the tall dark haired male several hours earlier. His name was Peter, the two of them had apparently been together for a number of months but he was the jealous possessive type and didn't like her engaging with other men, his overreacting having increasingly become an issue to her of late. Tonight in particular he didn't like the way she'd allegedly flirted with a young male Waiter at a restaurant prior to there heading to O'Leary's for a drink to try and salvage the night, the argument had festered and one word had led to another. She had no idea where he'd gone yet neither was she inclined to even attempt find out. Her mobile sat face up on the bar before her, it's battery having drained of life about an hour earlier on what was around his eighth attempt to contact her. Not that I'd be taking much notice. Somehow though I sensed that Peter had burned his bridges with the delicious little creature.
Naturally flirtatious we'd struck up a conversation at the bar as she stood waiting to be served. Melody had decided she needed one more drink, which I'd now stretched to many more drinks. The two guys, now heavily intoxicated, in suits had paid her notice but I'd intercepted their crass attention seeking behaviour, and my presence alone in her company had seemed to be enough to ward them off. As Melody and I sat engaged in mutual conversation I took my time to find out about her, to show interest in her. She had a naturally beauty that matched her gentle persona. On closer inspection her make up was contoured across her cheeks and a little heavier than I'd first thought. A shade or dark red eyeshadow accentuates naturally dark hazel eyes. She was still beautiful.
I can understand why Peter may have had his reservations over her behaviour, I'm not sure they are entirely misplaced. In the short few hours I've spent in her company I've found her to be inquisitive, friendly but with a wickedly dry sense of humour. She can't help but joke with or a gage with anyone who comes near us at the bar given half an opportunity but she's well meaning, her personality could be misread but incorrigible; she's shouldn't be stifled or curtailed. I'm as captivated by her personality as I am by her physical appearance, her long leather jacket hung now on the back of her chair, her slender legs cross over one another facing me as I cast my eye up a toned thigh that I now appreciate is encased in a light almost natural tone denier, her black skirt barely reaches mid thigh as she perches there, and her ample breasts sit held tight and up by the delightful looking dark red corset style top that accentuates her long neck and slender shoulders. I can't help but stare, she notices and she does not care. In complementing her, in telling her how stunning she looked she had simply responded with a seductive little chuckle, "I'd had plans to give Peter a night to remember."
I want to return that sentiment.
"How about shots?" I enquire with a mischievous grin.
"Jesus," is her astonished short response as she raises her eyebrows. "Really?"
"Damn right," Steve states procuring a bottle of Pernod from behind the bar. "And might I suggest a drinking game."
"Are you sure I'm not in trouble?" Melody offers chuckling again, and I wow see now is this her nervousness transferring as she takes hold of the green bottle of liquor inspecting it, suspiciously.
The bar has emptied and I watch as Steve steps away to usher out the two other bar staff as well as the two heavy set Private Security Team. Steve locks up the main doors and pulls down the blinds on the busy Friday night street outside. There's a confidence about the slightly stocky broad shouldered individual as he heads back towards the two of us, collecting beer glasses along the way. When he reaches the bar he sets down the glasses and turns to us, I note his none to subtle visual inspection of Melody.
"So then Barman suggestions for a Drinking Game?" I state.
"The tape Game?" Steve offers.
"The what now?" Melody questions looking from Steve to myself and a little confused. Steve takes initiative as he flashes me a wink before pulling a dark brown table from against a wall, the legs of the table scrape noisily and heavily across the wooden floorboards of the establishment, before he takes a cloth tucked into his belt and wipes down the table where it now stands, in the middle of the room.
"The tape game," I reiterate nodding my approval as Steve walks back around the bar lines to up three shot glasses and fills them with the aniseed smelling liquor. Melody takes a glass and holds it to her nose inhaling the pungent arouma of the drink. She screws her face up a little at the prospect. Steve reaches under the bar fishing around for something before he sets a roll of silver duct tape next to the two remaining shot glasses.
"What even are the rules?" Melody offers as Steve and I exchange glances.
"Don't worry Melody..." I offer. "You'll pick it up as we go along."
***********