Prologue: 1930
Funny thing was, she'd never felt this well rested before. Her eyes were still a bit fuzzy, the darkness only lifted a few moments ago. Light strings of a dream were pulled taught. She grasped at them only to have the strings break and slip through her fingers. What was left was a soft whisper of a name. Her name.
Ava sat up under a weeping willow tree. Strange. She didn't remember falling asleep here. There was a soft breeze flipping the branches towards her, beckoning her to come out of her cove and back into the world. Ava drew herself to standing, wobbling at first on her own two feet, and then pushing aside the willow's curtain. It was breath taking. Rolling hills of greens and autumn leaves seemed to go on forever. Her ears picked up the sounds of chirping birds and another sound quite foreign to her. A loud whistling siren. Curious.
She darted through the trees, following that strange noise which had tarnished the beauty of her landscape. Her bare feet stumbling on twigs and pebbles, she didn't notice the scrapes on her feet disappearing as soon as they were made. Ava caught her breath, inhaling twice before she mustered enough courage to continue. The whistling she had heard was a train.
Chapter 1: Present Day
Oh yeah. He was the one.
Ava adjusted in her seat. She'd been sitting there for a full hour now watching the room, praying for one, just one interesting John to enter, and guess what, tonight was her lucky night. She'd been ready, oh so fucking ready, to take this shark down, her legs began tingling with excitement. That might have been because they'd fallen asleep, but there was nothing like the cusp of a new best friend to get her all riled up.
Maggie, the waitress who had been so patient with Ava, stalked past her again. Filling her cup wasn't Maggie's only job. She tucked a fresh coaster under the Gin and tonic and winked. Maggie loved winking almost as much as she loved sashaying in tiny tight leather skirts. Leather was fine if you wanted to hump a biker, or a cowboy, but its flexibility didn't give Ava too many options. Ava lifted the glass and flipped over the coaster.
Mark Hannover. Retired. Hails from Brooklyn. Likes it ROUGH.
Really, Maggie? Come on. Ava sat in her section every time and ordered a minimum of five drinks, the least the girl could do was to get better stats. Maggie winked and then jerked her head in the direction of Mark Hannover. She practically stuck out a giant red arrow pointing at his big bald head. Ava had to give it to her though. Maggie was definitely enthusiastic about her role.
Hannover's eyes scanned the room lazily. He sipped, swirled, and sipped again at his own leisurely pace. If his vibe gave anything away, this was a man who didn't mind waiting in line. He could pull out a newspaper, shoot the breeze with the stranger next to him, and enjoy fine wine fermented for over a century. Hannover stroked at the companion he'd brought along. He twisted her curls in his finger and drew a long line from the tip of her ear down to the swell of her cleavage. She shivered in response. Ava didn't blame her. If the girl had any sense it would be to go back to her job at Dairy Queen and marry her high school sweet heart. Somehow, Hannover had intrigued her enough to follow him to this seedy night club. Maggie hadn't mentioned anything about the girl, which meant she was either an Out of Towner or some Russian mail-order bride. Ava chose the former. Hannover didn't scream illegal immigration.
