Read Online Seven Wonders by Adam Christopher - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Adam Christopher
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swigged it back. "You know I had to actually point to the bottle on the shelf? Jesus, I don't know why I come here. Don't they use it for 'Sexual Assault and Misdemeanors in a Dark Alley'? Or is that vermouth?"
Tony couldn't help but laugh. For the first time that night, in the company of a total stranger, he felt relaxed, his fear of the city and of the old man evaporating as the girl's eyes met his own.
"Let's see if they remember how to make it this time." Tony leaned in on the bar, grabbed the attention of the same girl that had served him a beer, and placed his order. He watched as her face creased with thought for a moment, then she turned and reached for the little-used bottle of blue gin.
"Blue gin? You must be rich. I think I like you." The girl on the barstool nodded appreciatively at Tony's selection of top-shelf liquor. Tony found himself grinning like a little boy, so busied himself with his wallet, avoiding her gaze.
"Yeah, real rich. Who knew retail slavery would be put me at the top of the Fortune 500." He extracted another twenty − his last bit of cash − from his wallet. He didn't try to hide it. He'd had enough of pretending to be social for one month anyway. He glanced around and saw Bill still trying it on − apparently quite successfully − with the maybe-underage girls. Nate had yet to return from the men's room.
Tony raised an eyebrow towards his new friend as he fingered the money. She smiled, shook her head, and waved her still-full glass at him. Tony nodded, part of him relieved to learn he'd have a couple of bucks left over for the rest of the weekend. A moment later and he parted with his hard-earned cash for this unnecessarily expensive G 'n' T.
"Retail, eh?" The girl's tongue rested on her upper lip. Tony found it to be the most attractive expression he'd ever seen. And really, this girl was something else − short dyed-black hair that shone with a bluish tinge in the dingy light of the bar, ruffled, spiky. It went with the angles of her face, sharp cheeks, pointed chin. Various clichéd descriptors floated in the front of Tony's mind − he wanted to say "elfin", maybe "birdlike", but aside from a pleasing bone structure there was nothing delicate about this girl. She wore a white T-shirt with sleeves torn off at the shoulder, exposing toned, muscular arms, clear evidence of a healthy gym routine. Each bicep was a multi-colored mural of tattoos − blacks and reds and yellows, a mix of abstract symbols and patterns on one arm, sharp leaves, thorns and flowers, and stylized birds on the other. Hunched over the bar as she was, legs folded over each other, the silver-capped toe of one of her Beatle boots almost touched his leg as her foot bounced with her heartbeat. The ensemble was finished with black tights and black mini, and an enormously wide belt, studded with silver.
She was exactly the kind of girl that Tony had always wanted to meet, and exactly the kind he never expected to. Cool, edgy, part of the alt crowd, part of a scene , hip but not a hipster. Tony shrank inside as he caught himself thinking those actual words. Good God, was it that long since he'd met a girl?
Tony raised his glass, noting again the volume of heady spirit overwhelming the amount of tonic. The girl laughed at his expression and raised her own drink. The pair clinked a toast, then swigged. Then their eyes scrunched, faces twisted in only slightly exaggerated displeasure, and both burst out laughing.
"Yeah, retail." Tony found his voice again after the harshness of the poorly prepared drink. "Been selling computers at Big Deal for four years. Not quite the high-powered career I had in mind, but it's easy enough. I can handle being bored and being paid to be bored. Work is work."
The girl nodded. "Work is work." She whispered Tony's mantra back to herself. "I like it. Jeannie." She held out a hand. Tony hesitated, thinking he'd misheard what she said, then took her
Tony couldn't help but laugh. For the first time that night, in the company of a total stranger, he felt relaxed, his fear of the city and of the old man evaporating as the girl's eyes met his own.
"Let's see if they remember how to make it this time." Tony leaned in on the bar, grabbed the attention of the same girl that had served him a beer, and placed his order. He watched as her face creased with thought for a moment, then she turned and reached for the little-used bottle of blue gin.
"Blue gin? You must be rich. I think I like you." The girl on the barstool nodded appreciatively at Tony's selection of top-shelf liquor. Tony found himself grinning like a little boy, so busied himself with his wallet, avoiding her gaze.
"Yeah, real rich. Who knew retail slavery would be put me at the top of the Fortune 500." He extracted another twenty − his last bit of cash − from his wallet. He didn't try to hide it. He'd had enough of pretending to be social for one month anyway. He glanced around and saw Bill still trying it on − apparently quite successfully − with the maybe-underage girls. Nate had yet to return from the men's room.
Tony raised an eyebrow towards his new friend as he fingered the money. She smiled, shook her head, and waved her still-full glass at him. Tony nodded, part of him relieved to learn he'd have a couple of bucks left over for the rest of the weekend. A moment later and he parted with his hard-earned cash for this unnecessarily expensive G 'n' T.
"Retail, eh?" The girl's tongue rested on her upper lip. Tony found it to be the most attractive expression he'd ever seen. And really, this girl was something else − short dyed-black hair that shone with a bluish tinge in the dingy light of the bar, ruffled, spiky. It went with the angles of her face, sharp cheeks, pointed chin. Various clichéd descriptors floated in the front of Tony's mind − he wanted to say "elfin", maybe "birdlike", but aside from a pleasing bone structure there was nothing delicate about this girl. She wore a white T-shirt with sleeves torn off at the shoulder, exposing toned, muscular arms, clear evidence of a healthy gym routine. Each bicep was a multi-colored mural of tattoos − blacks and reds and yellows, a mix of abstract symbols and patterns on one arm, sharp leaves, thorns and flowers, and stylized birds on the other. Hunched over the bar as she was, legs folded over each other, the silver-capped toe of one of her Beatle boots almost touched his leg as her foot bounced with her heartbeat. The ensemble was finished with black tights and black mini, and an enormously wide belt, studded with silver.
She was exactly the kind of girl that Tony had always wanted to meet, and exactly the kind he never expected to. Cool, edgy, part of the alt crowd, part of a scene , hip but not a hipster. Tony shrank inside as he caught himself thinking those actual words. Good God, was it that long since he'd met a girl?
Tony raised his glass, noting again the volume of heady spirit overwhelming the amount of tonic. The girl laughed at his expression and raised her own drink. The pair clinked a toast, then swigged. Then their eyes scrunched, faces twisted in only slightly exaggerated displeasure, and both burst out laughing.
"Yeah, retail." Tony found his voice again after the harshness of the poorly prepared drink. "Been selling computers at Big Deal for four years. Not quite the high-powered career I had in mind, but it's easy enough. I can handle being bored and being paid to be bored. Work is work."
The girl nodded. "Work is work." She whispered Tony's mantra back to herself. "I like it. Jeannie." She held out a hand. Tony hesitated, thinking he'd misheard what she said, then took her
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