Janie tried dancing to the blaring music with her friends in the sticky mosh pit of bodies, lasers, mirror balls, and fog; but when the guy grinding on Casey spilled his beer all over her, she decided to slip away and wound up at the crowded bar. Alone, sweaty and exhausted, she was packed in like a sardine with other people who were, at the very least, sweaty, drinking, and dancing to exhaustion or until last call. Whichever one came first. Perched on a sticky wooden barstool, Janie tugged her rising hem down for what seemed like the millionth time. The thundering of the beat and the strobe lights rattled her core and made her eyes water as her contacts throbbed under caked on black mascara and smoky silver eyeshadow. Her stained, white camisole clung, exposing the obviously stuffed bra Casey insisted she borrow. The neon yellow underglow of the counter illuminated the long rip down her leg to show swollen ankles and feet pinched into teeter tottering, sit-pretty, scuffed, pine needle heels. Janie pulled her too tight high-pony out of her light, glowing hair. She tapped her chipped nails restlessly as the bartender continued to ignore her and the DJ dropped the beat yet again, chuckling behind his shades as some of the dancers missed it. As the night stretched on, it became clear to Janie that Casey and the rest of the group were making other plans for the night. They looked over at her, waved, and pointed to the sloppy dancer engulfing them in vaping smoke, mouthing, “Score.” Feeling obliged, Janie gave a forced smile, a thumbs up, and made motions to tell them to text her in the morning. They probably would be too hungover and wouldn’t, but that didn’t matter. They fused together, reds and blues, as the fast-paced rhythm relaxed into a slower song and stumbled out of the dark into the gassy orange street light that hummed in the night. It was around three in the morning when she finished the Captain and Coke the red-faced bartender finally got her. Janie checked her phone and purse and scowled; no new messages. Lonely and bored, a wave washed over her with the urge to text her ex; which, after some difficulty, she successfully suppressed. She started to get up to leave when the man sitting slightly in front of her at the wrap-around bar met her gaze, hurriedly looked away, then looked her up and down again. She ran a hand through her unruly hair and tugged at her hem again as she sat back down. Her voice pitched as she ordered another drink. After stirring her straw around for a few minutes and staring at the colorful, ornate bottles of liquor behind the bar that stretched from counter to ceiling, Janie snuck a furtive glance at the man as he looked away from her. He has nice hair, she thought as she looked away and took a sip. And those eyes, I wouldn’t mind drowning in those bright puppies. A blush crept into her cheek and down her collarbone which, mercifully, went undetected under the black lights. Feeling his eyes on her once more, Janie gulped down the last of her drink and clinked it on the counter. She smiled at him and waved him over, nonchalantly, to the newly opened barstool next to her. He waved back, ran his fingers through his tousled hair, and smiled. She waved at him again and started laughing loudly over the music as he waved back. Downing his shot, he finally got up and started walking that cool, masculine walk. He popped his black leather jacket collar. His white V-neck shirt peaked out and glowed. He swung his arms slightly, exposing a twisted leather wristband with a threaded silver skull on his left. As the strobe lights flickered erratically and the DJ let off an explosion of spectacular pyrotechnics at the end of his set, he didn’t even look back. Damn! Who is this guy? Wolverine? A smug smile played on his lips as he leaned in close to Janie and ordered two Rusty Nails. Janie breathed in his spicy cologne. Could that be Creed? Shivers jetted down her spine as he brushed her left elbow with his hand as he sat down. “How’s it goin’?” he asked when the bartender reappeared with a slight frown and his drinks. “Not too bad. You?” Janie smiled at him as she supported her head on her right hand. He’s got to be in a band! I’m getting a total artist vibe! Her elbow nudged her empty glass over the counter and landed on the rubber mat on the other side. “Oops. Sorry about that.” The bartender waved it off. “It’s goin’ alright.” he downed his glass. “You doin’ anything after last call?” Janie twirled her fingers in her hair as she looked away and made a show of thinking. “I don’t have anything planned in particular. Probably go home.” “Feel like bringing home a stray? I’m full of tricks,” he said huskily as he placed his elbow on the counter and mirrored Janie. Janie blushed heavily and looked away as she tried to come up with something just as sexy, “Um…are you house broken?” God, I am so bad at this! What am I saying? “I’ve been told I’m a really, really good boy.” With her mind going blank with what to say next, Janie laughed, “You have to take me to dinner first!” It’s been a long while since I was last on a date. After downing his other drink, licking his lips, and ordering more, he replied, “Excellent, that’d give me more time ‘cause I’m plannin’ on drinkin’ ‘til you’re gooood looking.” He put his hand on her upper thigh and squeezed, tightly. WHAT THE HELL?! Snapped out of her heart, she yanked her hem down and took the heel of her hand and hit him with all her might under his chin. Toppling backwards, he laughed as he hit the floor and struggled to get up. Janie grabbed her purse and beelined for the exit as he found his legs and started stomping after her yelling, “You bitch! You wouldda been lucky! You deserve to—” Janie heard no more as he began to sputter under the bartender’s hose while security threw him to the ground. The door slammed shut behind her. The orange light shut off in the early hours of morning and she was bathed in the twilight’s pale blue. Leaning against the old brick building, she yanked Casey’s horrible bra off, took off her ripped hose, and kicked the heels into a nearby dumpster. This is not who I am. The sidewalk was freezing under her blistered feet as she failed to hail a cab and walked the eight blocks back to her apartment. She checked her phone and scowled at the reflection of herself on the screen. Ugh! I was so stupid. Scrolling out of the screen she saw she had a new text message. It’s too early to be Casey. I don’t know this number. Hey, I’m Josh, the bartender at Dartz. I asked Casey for your number a few months ago. Do you want to get coffee sometime? I swear I’m not a jerk like Kevin. Who was it that said, “When you reach your lowest point, you’re open to the greatest change”? I’m not making any promises. She put her phone back in her bag and walked into the dawn.
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Editorial Staff
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