บท 4: Mystery Man
- VANESSA -
Friday starts a little slower at work than usual, which is odd. But I've learned that people come in like waves, and they're not always predictable.
Taryn is fun to work with. She's a free spirit—something I very much admire. She's always dressed in feminine, flowing fabrics with layers of necklaces and bracelets that jangle when she moves. Tonight, she's wearing a gold headband adorned with stars.
"You look like a goddess," I tell her with a wink.
"Aw, thank you," she giggles. "I just thought it was fun."
Meanwhile, I'm dressed in my typical black outfit—black from head to toe. I don't bother wearing anything too revealing here, because it's just not what I'm comfortable in. And I definitely don't want to give any of the guys who frequent this place the wrong idea.
Even just the casual look with a tank, skin tight jeans, and black boots is a departure from what I'd wear at home. It makes me feel a little edgier, a little more like myself. I would love to get tattoos someday—an entire sleeve worth will all different designs. But my parents would definitely freak.
Chris, Taryn, and I fall into that same swift rhythm when the crowd starts to pick up. I'm helping a guy ordering drinks for himself and his girlfriend when Taryn nudges me and discreetly points toward the door. I know it's not Jimmy who has entered, because I would be able to feel him the moment he stepped in.
Instead, there's a tall blonde man with striking blue eyes. God, he's gorgeous. I smirk at Taryn in understanding, and she goes back to what she's doing without a word.
Eventually the new mystery man makes his way up to the bar, and I immediately notice that there's something different about him. He's handsome, of course. There's a distinct scar that cuts through one of his eyebrows, giving his appearance a slightly more dangerous, severe look than what I glimpsed when he entered, but it's not enough to diminish how attractive he is. If anything, it only amplifies it, in my opinion.
But those aren't the things that catch my attention the most. The aura of secrets that everyone else has, the one I'm so accustomed to glimpsing and dismissing upon meeting someone, is entirely absent. There's absolutely nothing in my shadow vision to view.
I've never been confronted with a vacancy like that before, and it's… terrifying. How does he do it? It almost makes me wonder if he's human.
When I realize he's staring at me, I blink a few times, trying to get over the shock. But it honestly scares me more than someone like Jimmy would.
There is definitely a secretive layer surrounding him. I can tell now that he's closer. I can feel the gravity of it, and it's significant. But it's hidden. There is no way to view it, no hint of what lies within. It's almost like he exists in the center of a black hole, sucking all of my shadow vision in with him.
Goosebumps start prickling along the crown of my head and down, sweeping over my arms until I'm consumed by them. Why is this tall, devastatingly handsome man so different from literally everyone else I've ever met?
His eyes roam over my face, and suddenly I feel exposed. The fact that I'm someone of importance, someone who shouldn't be here without her family knowing, hits me full force under the scrutiny of those laser blue eyes and unreadable expression.
"What can I get you?" The question lacks the friendly lilt I use with everyone else, because all of my internal alarms are firing. I don't want this man here. He's out of place.
If he orders an Italian drink like the Negroni or Angelo Azzurro, I'm sprinting straight to my car and never coming back. Actually, regardless of the drink—if he orders with even the slightest bit of an accent that's not from around here, I'm booking it straight home.
Why did I think it was a good idea to be out here in the world without any protection? Is it really worth risking getting kidnapped and used as a bargaining chip in some kind of mafia turf war?
"Dry martini, shaken." His voice is deep and smooth, but it's free of any unique cultural flavor, and relief pours over me. So much so that I forget my manners entirely and roll my eyes.
Who does he think he is, James Bond? Maybe that would explain his mysterious nature, but now I'm just annoyed at the obvious arrogance dripping off of every inch of him. Or maybe I'm just irritated that his secrets evade me.
"Coming right up."
When mystery man gets his drink, he finally disappears back into the crowd. I try to forget about him. But for the rest of the night, the encounter tickles the back of my mind, drawing me back to it.
"That guy was hot, huh?" Taryn says at the end of the night when we're splitting the tips.
"He was okay." I shrug and glance at Chris.
I'm aware he has a thing for Taryn. It's obvious the way he becomes quieter when she's around, but I swear the girl is completely oblivious.
"Just okay?" Her eyes bug out of her head. "Are you serious? I've never seen a man that beautiful before. He didn't belong in this bar, that's for sure."
My thoughts exactly. That's what freaks me out.
"He actually gave me the creeps," I tell her honestly. "If he comes again, I think we should let Chris wait on him."
"I'll take him," Taryn scoffs. "It might be worth the creeps to have his attention."
"Ugh. Trust me, it's not."
But Taryn's naivety is not surprising. I'm learning that the average person has no clue about the true dangers and depravities in the world—not that I've exactly witnessed them myself. But I see them in the secrets clinging to everyone around me, and living amongst the mafia means I'm very much aware of the darkest of secrets.
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