My mother always told me redheads would be the death of me.
So did my mentor.
If only they knew how right they would be. I sat on the edge of a row house roof in the predawn with my feet dangling over the edge. Cicadas whirred as a light breeze both brought me the scent of last night's rain and pushed the remnants of it away. I pulled my pack of Newport 100s out of my shirt pocket, ignoring the blood which covered it, tapped on out of the pack and lit it. This would be my last cigarette. As the eastern sky brightened, I thought back to the ruin of my life.
###
I walked into the tavern,
Sydney's
, and glanced at the clientele. Most were lined up at the bar, with a crowd around the pool table and a couple playing air hockey against each other.
A spot opened up at the bar, so I took it. I reached into my pocket for a cigarette before spotting the
No Smoking
sign behind the cash register next to the neon highlighted crucifix. I sighed and folded my hands on the bar and glanced at the tv. A basketball game was on, but the sound was down, likely due to the chattering crowd. I watched on of the players miss a free throw and then turned back to the register.
Instead of the machine, I found a stunning redhead with deep chocolate eyes smiling at me.
"Hi, Handsome. What can I get you?"
"Flaming Dr Pepper," I said.
She nodded, gathered the ingredients and poured the drink in front of me. After pouring Amaretto into a shot glass to the 2/3 mark, she finished it off with Bacardi 151 and lit it on fire before dropping it into a glass and adding beer to the edge of the shot.
"Here you go."
I raised the glasses, and said, "SlΓ‘inte." I then knocked it back.
"Are you Irish, or Scots?"
I shuddered and shook my head. "No. My mentor was." After fighting back a gag, I continued. "That horrid concoction was his favorite drink."
She gave a sultry laugh. "Why did you order and drink it, then?"
"I do it in his honor twice a year: On his birthday, and the date of his death."
Her eyebrows went up. "Oh. I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you." I shrugged. "At least he went out doing what he loved."
"What was that?"
"He was a Nightsman."
Her nose flared as her eyes widened before she turned to glanced down the bar. "Excuse me. A customer is bleating." She tossed me a wink and headed off.
I should have known then, and been on my guard, but her flaming hair and curves distracted me. The way her ass filled her khaki slacks practically made me salivate. She glanced over her shoulder as if she knew I'd be looking and winked at me.
After a bit, she returned, carrying a bottle in her hand. She lifted two glasses to the bar, poured a healthy measure into them both before setting the bottle down and rotated it so I could see the Suntori label.
"To your mentor. May he rest in peace." She said, raising a glass.
I lifted the other one. "Kanpai!" And drained the glass.
She leaned forward over the bar, her low cut shirt almost allowing her impressive tits to fall out. "You don't look Japanese."
"That's racist," I said dryly.
She lifted her left eyebrow and I laughed.
"Couldn't resist."
"Uh-huh."
"Aw, come on. It was funny."
As she stared at me with a stone face, I laughed again. When she still did not laugh, I quieted down. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."
She smiled at she lightly flicked my nose. "Got you."
"I -- you - "
She laughed harder as I continued to fumble.
"You're cute when you stutter."
In response I poured another drink and slammed it. Before I could blink, she leaned forward and slanted her mouth across mine. When I parted my lips, she slid her tongue in my mouth and swirled it around my own. After a few minutes of sucking on my tongue, she moved back and gave me a hooded smile.
"You're pretty good at that," she said.
I placed my fingertips on my chest. "Pretty good?"
She winked at me then turned away to retrieve a bottle from the collection.
"Uch!" I fake gasped. "How dare."
She turned back and waggled a fifth of Jack Daniels at me. "J.D.?"
"Make it a sour, please."
"Really?" She raised her right eyebrow at me.
"What? Whiskey sours are awesome."
As she poured the ingredients together, she said, "I would have thought you'd be a neat man."
I snickered. "Scotch neat, bourbon mixed."
"Oh. Got it."
She sauntered off to handle other customers and returned.
"That kiss came out of nowhere." I idly swirled my straw through the drink, then raised my eyes to her.
"Was it wrong?"
I beckoned her forward, and when she rested her elbows on the bar, I fed her the cherry from the sour. While she chewed it, I shook my head.
"I never said that. Just that it came out of nowhere."
"Should I ask in the future?"
I titled my head to the right. "Why do you keep dodging my question?"
She tapped the tip of my nose. "You never asked one."
I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Why did you kiss me?"
She straightened up and shrugged. "I felt like it."
"Gonna get me drunk and take advantage of me, huh?"
She smirked and gestured at my drink. "I haven't charged you for any of these."
I placed my hand flat against my chest this time. "Do you think I am
that
kind of girl?"
She giggled. "You're a dork, dude."
I titled my head to the side and nodded. "True, true." I knocked back the last of my drink. "So, what happens now?"