and Dylan to everyone within earshot as she led them around. People looked up or over and said their “hello's”, though nobody was going to remember each others names.
The apartment itself was decorated in the artsy revisionist 2020's style; big shapes with squares and circles, dominated with the use of vibrant colors. It looked as if a revisionist art student had free reign with the decorations. A little overdone, but overall it gave the apartment a hip atmosphere.
A banned rock tune by The Slashers started playing on the sound system, “Pay up, pay up, pay through your nose.....” Joanne pointed down a hallway, “The bar is in the kitchen over there. I'll catch up with you later.” “Alright, thanks,” Dylan replied. Brooks was already half way down the hallway, still carrying his case of brew.
Dylan caught up to Brooks in the kitchen, who was by then trying to put his beer down on top of the kitchen counters that were already fully packed with everyone's party supplies. He just ended up pushing the case into everything, hoping nothing would come crashing down on the floor. “You want one?” Brooks asked his friend while prying open the top of the case. Dylan found a home for his bottle of vodka, putting it next to several other bottles of booze by the sink. “No thanks. I'm gonna have drink,” he said.
While Brooks opened his beer and took a swig, Dylan surveyed the kitchen. A twenty something African American man with wire rimmed glasses sang along with the music as he fixed a drink at the makeshift bar at the end of the kitchen counter. “Rock your bed, as they steal your dead....” An exceedingly attractive young blond swayed to beat of the music as she waited for her drink. She was well on her way to catching a buzz. “Thanks,” she said, as the man handed her the drink to be made. She eyed Brooks while heading out of the kitchen. Giving him a big flirtatious smile. Once she was out of sight, Brooks turned to Dylan, “ Oh, yeah, she's mine tonight. But first I gotta keep these beers cold.” He started pulling the bottles out of the cardboard case and bringing them over to a galvanized steel tub filled with ice and beer on the floor next to the refrigerator.
Dylan approached the apparent bartender, “Hi I'm Dylan.” The two men shook hands. “Hi, I'm David Whitney. What can I get for you.” Dylan looked around the makeshift bar. “I think I'll have a vodka tonic. How about using that vodka, it's pretty good.” He pointed to the French vodka he brought. “Pretty good? This stuff is wicked. My personal favorite,” David said. He picked up the bottle and looked it over carefully, as if savoring the sight of the label. He had obviously consumed a couple of his drink creations already.
“Dread, dread, off with your head” David sang the last line from The Slashers tune as he handed the vodka tonic with a wedge of lemon to Dylan.
He took a quick sip, “Awesome drink, man. Thank you.”
“All in the line of duty, my friend,” Whitney said, taking a sip of his own nearly empty drink.
An attractive forty something woman with short blond hair wandered into the kitchen. “Can I have one of your world famous martini's, David,” she said.
“Certainly, madame.”
Dylan leaned back against the kitchen counter sipping his cocktail. He stood there awkwardly for a moment before introducing himself to the woman. “Hi, I'm Dylan.” He reached over and shook her hand. “I'm Stephanie. It's nice to meet you.” The two exchanged small talk until David handed her the martini with a raspberry. “Thank you, Sir,” Stephanie said, before whisking off.
“Now you know why I like being the bartender,” David said, taking a sip from his cocktail. Brooks had finished putting his beers on ice and walked over to the two men. David took another sip from his drink, finishing it, then swirled the ice cubes in the glass before putting it down. He leaned back against the kitchen counter in the
The apartment itself was decorated in the artsy revisionist 2020's style; big shapes with squares and circles, dominated with the use of vibrant colors. It looked as if a revisionist art student had free reign with the decorations. A little overdone, but overall it gave the apartment a hip atmosphere.
A banned rock tune by The Slashers started playing on the sound system, “Pay up, pay up, pay through your nose.....” Joanne pointed down a hallway, “The bar is in the kitchen over there. I'll catch up with you later.” “Alright, thanks,” Dylan replied. Brooks was already half way down the hallway, still carrying his case of brew.
Dylan caught up to Brooks in the kitchen, who was by then trying to put his beer down on top of the kitchen counters that were already fully packed with everyone's party supplies. He just ended up pushing the case into everything, hoping nothing would come crashing down on the floor. “You want one?” Brooks asked his friend while prying open the top of the case. Dylan found a home for his bottle of vodka, putting it next to several other bottles of booze by the sink. “No thanks. I'm gonna have drink,” he said.
While Brooks opened his beer and took a swig, Dylan surveyed the kitchen. A twenty something African American man with wire rimmed glasses sang along with the music as he fixed a drink at the makeshift bar at the end of the kitchen counter. “Rock your bed, as they steal your dead....” An exceedingly attractive young blond swayed to beat of the music as she waited for her drink. She was well on her way to catching a buzz. “Thanks,” she said, as the man handed her the drink to be made. She eyed Brooks while heading out of the kitchen. Giving him a big flirtatious smile. Once she was out of sight, Brooks turned to Dylan, “ Oh, yeah, she's mine tonight. But first I gotta keep these beers cold.” He started pulling the bottles out of the cardboard case and bringing them over to a galvanized steel tub filled with ice and beer on the floor next to the refrigerator.
Dylan approached the apparent bartender, “Hi I'm Dylan.” The two men shook hands. “Hi, I'm David Whitney. What can I get for you.” Dylan looked around the makeshift bar. “I think I'll have a vodka tonic. How about using that vodka, it's pretty good.” He pointed to the French vodka he brought. “Pretty good? This stuff is wicked. My personal favorite,” David said. He picked up the bottle and looked it over carefully, as if savoring the sight of the label. He had obviously consumed a couple of his drink creations already.
“Dread, dread, off with your head” David sang the last line from The Slashers tune as he handed the vodka tonic with a wedge of lemon to Dylan.
He took a quick sip, “Awesome drink, man. Thank you.”
“All in the line of duty, my friend,” Whitney said, taking a sip of his own nearly empty drink.
An attractive forty something woman with short blond hair wandered into the kitchen. “Can I have one of your world famous martini's, David,” she said.
“Certainly, madame.”
Dylan leaned back against the kitchen counter sipping his cocktail. He stood there awkwardly for a moment before introducing himself to the woman. “Hi, I'm Dylan.” He reached over and shook her hand. “I'm Stephanie. It's nice to meet you.” The two exchanged small talk until David handed her the martini with a raspberry. “Thank you, Sir,” Stephanie said, before whisking off.
“Now you know why I like being the bartender,” David said, taking a sip from his cocktail. Brooks had finished putting his beers on ice and walked over to the two men. David took another sip from his drink, finishing it, then swirled the ice cubes in the glass before putting it down. He leaned back against the kitchen counter in the
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