Fire Nectar (6 page)

2012

When Dani arrived at Nectar there were only a handful of
people.
 
She checked her phone and
saw that it was only 8:30 - a half hour early.
 
Wonderful. She scanned the room. No sign
of her bartender.
Just some other guy cleaning glasses.
 
Her heart sank.
 
She looked at her phone and back at the
bar. Should she text her friends?
 
Should she to go to the exhibit and forget the whole thing? The thought
made her very tired.
 
Dammit.
 
Where was he?
 
She realized that she didn’t even know
his name.

Annoyed she sat down at the bar.
 
She wanted to ask the bartender but she
didn’t know
who
she was asking for. Genius, she
thought, kicking herself. Irritation scratched at her and she looked down and
back
up before she realized the new guy was smiling at
her.
 

 
“Wondering
where your friends are?” he asked.
 

She smiled, appreciative of his manners.
 
“Sort of.”
 

“Maybe text ‘
em
and see if
they’re on their way?” he offered, completely without sarcasm, adding,
 
“Adrian will be right out to get you a
drink.”

 
“Adrian?”
 
she
asked,
casually.
 

He nodded and put a clean, wet bucket glass on the
counter to dry. “The bartender. I’m Brian.
 
And I’m training so I can’t, but he’ll be right back.”

 
“Ah. Okay.
Thank you.”

Adrian. Was Adrian
him
? She
couldn’t wait. She turned her attention to the sounds of the bar and focused.
The place came alive, sounds and smells assaulting her senses.
Water splashing against hands, glass and metal sink.
Someone shifting in a seat.
DJ pushing buttons
on the computer to start the next song.
 
Goldfrapp’s
“Ooh La
La
” bouncing from the speakers.
 
A lighter lit, paper burning. Turned
into ash. Lips sucking, cigarette inhaled just outside the front door behind
her.
 
Blackened
lungs squeezing in the breath.
A sigh of relief.
A toilet flushed.
 
Panties pulled
up. Stall door opened. Lipstick applied.
 

And among the heartbeats she heard a single heart louder
than the others. His heartbeat. THE heartbeat. Her eyes flashed and she focused
on the sound and it led to a door in the back.
 
A pen dropped.
 
It was the office. His feet scuffed the
ground as he rose from a chair. The chair rolled away and he walked past it
toward the door.
 
Toward
her.

A door opened and closed in the back.
 
Finally she saw him. He wore the uniform
black t-
shirt,
black pants, and in one of his strong
hands, carried a bottle of Absinthe, his shoulder-length dark hair moving with
his purposeful gait. He looked around the bar and, as he lifted the counter to
get behind it, his eyes met hers. She heard his heart quicken. Yes. The sound
of it pounded in her head and she felt very, very awake. Good, that’s better.
That’s much better. He held her eyes and walked to her, picking up a black
cocktail napkin as he did. He placed the bottle and the napkin down in front of
her in one swift motion.
 

 
“Well hello
again,” he said.

 
“Hello,” she
said.
 
His eyes were so blue.
 
His skin, very pale
and nice.
 
He had a small
kissable Scottish mouth and all she could think was that she wanted to bite it.
“What is your name?” she asked.
 

 
“Adrian.
 
Yours?”

“Daniella.” She wondered why she didn’t use her more
common, more modern nickname.

“Pretty. What can I get for you, Daniella?
 
Absinthe?”

 
“No, thank
you.
 
Jameson, neat.”
 

He smiled and noted, “Of course.
 
Sorry, I should’ve remembered that.” He
poured her the drink, handed it to her and then simply looked at her. She
returned his look, unblinking. They stayed like that for a moment before he
asked, “Well, I’m having Absinthe. It’s not the European stuff of course, but
it will do.”

 
“Yes, of
course.” She gave him a credit card and he put it by the register.
 
She didn’t want the conversation to end.
“Are you Scottish?” she asked.
 
He
turned with a smile.

He drank the shot of Absinthe and poured another. “Yes -
I am. Good eye. Full blooded, I believe.” He stood in front of her, slightly
leaning towards her with both hands on the bar spread out from his body.

“Are you first generation in America?” she asked, her
head tilted a little as she watched him.
 

He studied her face as he answered, “No, but my family
still has a castle there.
 
It’s in
ruins now.
 
No one has been there
for over a hundred and fifty years to my knowledge.” Her face was so perfect,
he thought. The skin didn’t have one flaw or blemish.
 
Her eyes were such a light shade of
brown that they were disarmingly beautiful.
 
He had a very strong urge to lean
forward and pull her onto the bar and ram his –

“-Do you speak Gaelic?” she interrupted.

 
“I wish. No.
I do plan to refurbish the castle or build on the property.
 
Maybe I’ll learn it then.”
 
He reached up and pulled a bit of his
hair from his forehead.
 
She wanted
to pull him onto the bar and –

 
“Adrian!”
 
called
out a
small guy on the other end of the bar.

 
“I have to go
get some drinks. I will be back,” he said, smiling at her like he knew a
secret.

She turned to look at the other patrons.
 
They seemed to be regulars. One was a
small guy, handsome in a pretty way with long bangs that he pushed back from
his eyes regularly only to have them fall again.
 
He drew on a napkin, which she thought
was interesting because the napkin was black.
 
Another regular had a long beard and
looked like he might play in a band, or cut down trees.
 
Either would have been possible.
 
The shaggy look of the late 60’s was
back.
Lots of facial hair.
Lots of hair in general
– that was the accepted style of the moment.
 
The third in the crew was a hulking
redhead who laughed a lot and looked like he’d be happier naked.

She watched Adrian talk easily with these men, his
laughter coming in giant bursts that lasted for only a second, followed by a
smile, which stayed.
 
She had the
immediate urge to be the one who made him laugh, the only one.
 
She dipped her index finger into her
drink and glossed it onto her lips absently because she liked the smell as it
evaporated.
 
She watched him pour
four pints of Guinness and four shots of Jameson. Each man picked up a shot
glass, clinked them together, tapped them onto the bar simultaneously, and
dropped them into the Guinness pints – quickly chugging the bubbling
chemical reaction before it overflowed.
 
Irish Car Bombs.

She looked around the room and caught eyes with the DJ
who had been watching her watch Adrian.
 
He didn’t smile.
 
Fuck him.
The bar had begun to fill up but her friends had yet to arrive.
 
Every time she heard the doorman
say
“ID please,” she’d turn hoping to see Stewart who would
of course arrive first. A feeling very foreign to her crept in.
 
It was a growing fear of looking
foolish.
 
She tore her napkin slowly
into little bits to resist the urge to check the door again.
 

 
“Anxious?”
Her head snapped up and she saw him standing in front of her.
 
She smiled and shook her head.
 
“No? Then why are you tearing up my
napkin like that?”

 
“It’s my
napkin now. You gave it to me, to do with as I please.” His head bent back and
he let out that amazing laugh.
 
It
was almost the exact sound of
 
“HA!”
followed by a smile. “I made you laugh,” she said, immediately horrified she’d
said that out loud.

 
“You say that
like you didn’t think you could.” He leaned toward her, teasingly. They looked
at each other for a very long second. “Job well done.” He winked at her,
smiled, and walked away.
 
She
watched him wondering if she were making a mistake getting so close to this
man.

Irritated by her anxiety, she grew quickly impatient,
admonishing her own mind by telling herself: You’re so often too much in
control. You’ve become cool as ice. Where has it gotten you? Feeling dead for
who knows how long?
 
No more.
 
Never again.

Stewart’s voice behind her broke her reverie. “Is my
watch wrong? Did the satellite dish stop transmitting to my phone?
 
Did Beverly Hills decide it’s okay to
grow old?”

 
“My clock was
fast,” Dani lied.

“Your inner
clock, you mean, right
?
Couldn’t wait to look at the eye candy.
 
Don’t lie to me. This is Billy,” he introduced her to an attractive
blond man, late thirties, average build.

 
“Hi,” Billy
said and stretched out his hand.
 

She didn’t extend hers.
 
Instead she waved it and lied, “still
wet from the bathroom.”
 
Billy
understood, smiled and didn’t think twice about it. Stewart noticed it, but his
loyalty forbade his normally loud mouth from telling Billy that he’d never seen
Dani shake anyone’s hand.
 
Ever.
  
He’d chalked it
up to germ phobia.
 

 
“Your skin is
amazing. Truly. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Billy said as he motioned to
Adrian that he needed a drink. Dani detected an accent and looked to Stewart
silently asking if Billy was his date.
 
He smiled like a little devil and nodded almost imperceptibly.
 
Adrian arrived and Billy asked, “Hi, can
I have a Mojito?”

From Adrian’s face, that wasn’t going to happen.
 
“A Mojito?
 
You don’t want a Mojito.”

 
“I don’t?”
Billy asked. “Because I’m pretty sure I do.”
 

 
“No, they’re out
of style. I think you’d rather have a shot.
”
he said
with confidence. It seemed pretty clear he wasn’t going to budge.

“A shot? Lord, I’d be on the floor in an hour. Please!
No, I want an out-of-style Mojito. Thanks.” Billy said with a natural hint of
wit.
 

 
“You’re from
London,” Dani said.

Billy got excited. “I am! Good call!
 
Most people can’t put a finger on
it.
 
I’ve been in America forever.
They say South Africa a lot, or sometimes Australia. So, when were you there?”

Everyone waited.
 
Daniella looked at all of them.
 
1812 she thought, and again in 1814 but never since.
 
Her gaze landed on Adrian as she
answered, “I’ve never been.
 
It was
just a lucky guess.” Something at the door caught her attention. She’d heard
Anjelica giving her ID to the doorman. Yes, Anjelica was there, and making
quite an impact in stark contrast to a room filled with dark clothes, tattoos
and piercings.
 
She wore a floor
length cotton summer dress and her blond hair waved in natural curls just below
her shoulders.
 

 
“I’ll have a
shot.
 
Screw it,” Stewart said.

 
“Great!
 
Man after my own heart. What kind of
shot will you have –
wait
. Don’t tell me.
 
I get to choose.” He grinned very
mischievously and said, “Absinthe!”

 
“Are we doing
shots
?!
I’m in,” Anjelica chimed in and gave everyone
a round of hugs hello.
 

 
“You look
lovely,” Dani gave her a hug, an action she often avoided. But she wasn’t
thinking clearly.