บท 4: Stranger No Danger
Andrew's POV
I had clocked off work early, taking a flight to Las Vegas to enjoy the weekend. Hoping for an adventure I wouldn't normally get in Phoenix, I walked around town.
Honestly, it wouldn't cost me anything to get a chauffeur to drive me, but I wanted to see the city in all of its infamous glory.
Still in my suit, I walked into a bar after I slipped a hundred-dollar bill into the bouncer's open palm. I could hear the sounds of protest from the people lined up but I didn't care; if I had come along with my black card, I'd have gotten free entry.
The moment I walked through the doors, the loud music bounced off my skin and blasted my eardrums. It's a volume level I'm used to, with the adventures I tend to seek in places like this.
No matter where I visit, I try to spend a night in at least one of their clubs.
I headed over to the bar, pushing past the dancing crowd.
"What's your poison?"
"What do you suggest?"
The bartender stared at me for a minute, her eyebrows cocked in my direction. I grinned in response, letting her get a read like all the bartenders before her.
I'm a simple man who's willing to try any drink that won't knock me out after the first glass. Tequila, vodka, rum, wine, gin, brandy, whiskey. Everything is welcome.
A minute later, she nodded and turned to the large bar behind her.
I watched her intensely, not to learn her skills but to admire her work as a mixologist. She took extra care in pouring the drinks, her manicured nails glistening under the club's lights.
I turned away for a second, letting my eyes wander in the hopes of finding something that would strike me. To be more specific, I was searching for a woman to help me enjoy the rest of the evening and maybe the night too.
"Your drink."
I thanked her, sliding my credit card across the table before returning to my observations.
Every corner of the club was filled up and I could barely make out patches of the floor. I asked for a bottle of Martini, paying once more before I walked away from the bar.
Time to grab a table.
In hindsight, I should have read the sign at the entrance properly. The moment I turned the corner of the bar, I noticed a large stage with a pole at its centre. A woman held onto it with her legs as she spun around to entertain the audience.
Now that I looked closer, I could see multiple tables that had their poles and were adorned with at least one woman.
Damn, I wasn't looking for a strip club. At least not tonight.
I turned back to the bar, the only place that still held a bit of sanity for me. I sat on the stool I had left earlier, lucky enough that no one had taken it. The bartender nodded at me, glancing at my nearly empty cup.
Boredom had begun to set in, but fatigue was doing even greater things. I struck up a conversation with the bartender, finding out that her name was Lisa and that she worked two jobs.
But in the end, only someone boring, lonely, sad, or a mix of all these would happily be chatting with the bartender.
I turned my eyes to the crowd once more, and finally, I could see a woman who shined like a million stars. She stood there, holding onto a beer bottle with a forced smile on her face.
She wore a knee-length gown with a bright shade of red that somehow complimented the dance floor.
Her feet, wrapped in black heels, glided along the dance floor with an elegance that only ballerinas would know.
Her fair skin peeked out in just the right places and I wondered why she still danced alone.
Taking another sip from the cup and asking for a refill, I moved into the crowd. I reached the woman's side, watching her jump and move her hips to the music in a way that would only match a song playing in her head.
"Hey."
I whispered as loudly as possible, gaining her attention as I managed to pull her out of the crowd to talk.
"Care to join me for a drink?"
I expected a no and was ready to turn back to the bar. She stared at me for a while, her gaze trying so hard to find something in me. Finally, she nodded, following me to the bar.
I chuckled, guiding her to a seat right next to mine.
"So what's your name?"
She didn't answer, her eyes still staring carelessly ahead.
I asked the bartender for a simple drink, something that would help to clear the alcohol from her eyes.
She downed half the glass in one go, her eyes softening a bit. I waited patiently, watching her catch her breath as her adrenaline flagged.
"Feeling better?"
She nodded at me, her fingers pressed on her head.
"So what brings you to a place like this in that dress? What's your story?"
She was dressed too fancily for someone who would come to a club and order beer. She seemed more like the tequila type to me; I couldn't imagine her with anything less.
"There's no story. I'm just a businesswoman that's under a lot of stress."
Everyone has some level of stress they would gladly rid themselves of, and getting drunk was the next best thing. No need to dive into details.
"I'm Andrew. And you are?"
"Bethany. But you can call me Beth."
"Definitely not. I prefer Bethany. It has a nice ring to it."
She giggled softly, and her silver eyes drew me in.
We talked about various things, and I made a conscious effort to avoid any topic related to business. I didn't bother asking where she was from or what business she ran. The night was too beautiful for me to ruin.
In the end, we settled for movies and basketball after surfing through dozens of topics. She gave the best analysis I had heard off-air about the teams in the playoffs.
Somehow, the sound of the music just happened to vanish from our ears and I could hear her clearly.
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