He doesn’t bother with anyone standing around the edges of the space and instead makes a beeline to the bar. He slides into a seat and scans the room quickly. His eyes land on a woman sitting to his right, about three stools away. She looks to be in her mid-to late twenties, but worn, like she’s seen all too much in her short time on this earth. Her brown hair has been straightened within an inch of its life and sits in a sharp spray just past her shoulders. He noticed her initially when she boorishly adjusted her blue strapless dress. She stuck her entire hand into the top of her dress to do so. He finds her utterly repugnant. Desperation rolls off her like cigarette smoke and mixes with the pompous delusion she wears all over her like drugstore perfume. And tonight, he’s going to make her dreams come true.
He flags down the bartender with a finger in the air. She makes her way over to him slowly.
“What can I get ya?” she asks, wiping her hands on her pants.
“What is she drinking?”
The bartender looks where he is pointing and narrows her eyes, laughing. “Oh, that one is a Cosmo girl for sure.” She looks back at him with a playful smirk, leaning on her elbow. “You want me to slip her a whiskey and see how it plays out?”
A smile hints slightly at the corners of his mouth. Bartenders can pick out a phony as well as he can, and for that they usually earn his respect.
He nods. “Give her another Cosmo and tell her it’s from me, please.” He slides her some cash to cover it, and she places her hand over it.
“You got it.”
He watches her make the pink drink and pour it into a fresh glass. She slides it in front of Jeremy’s mystery rabbit without spilling any contents over the rim—he’s impressed. Rabbit looks startled but quickly transitions to satisfied. She feels emboldened now, pushing her hair back with a self-satisfied look on her pinched face. She glances up, after the bartender points her in his direction and casts a look his way under her eyelashes. She gives a flirty wave and beckons him closer.
Got her.
“I hope that wasn’t too presumptuous of me,” he says, sliding into the stool next to her, flashing his disarming smile.
She sucks in a breath. “I was hoping you would come over to talk to me.”
She leans forward. He can plainly see her trying to subtly squeeze her arms to her sides to accentuate her cleavage. Her proximity makes him uncomfortable—she smells like tobacco and coffee, and it’s nauseating as it swirls off her tongue in waves—but he soldiers on, concentrating on what’s to come.
“Well, you’re in luck then. What’s your name, pretty girl?” He nearly chokes as he says this but keeps his voice steady.
She bites her lip.
“Tara,” she answers in a breathy voice.
She draws out the long a in an obvious effort to appear seductive, and he almost pulls a muscle trying to stop his eyes from rolling. She smiles, and, unsurprisingly, doesn’t ask for his name in return.
“Hi, Tara. I’m Jeremy.”
“You don’t look like a Jeremy,” she coos and leans her chin into her palm, blinking her eyes rapidly. He forces a grin and takes a sip of his drink.
“Well, I doubt I act like one either,” he replies, not even sure what it means but pleased that it’s elicited a shrill giggle from his new friend.
This is too easy.
It’s exactly what he is looking for tonight. No complications or overly intricate blueprints. He just needs release. The way he sees it, this is a return to the basics. All he has to do is get her in the car with him, and from there he’ll be free to follow wherever his desires lead. He pauses to observe her as she sips her Cosmopolitan. She places it down and briefly wipes her nose with the side of her finger. She takes the same hand and runs it through her brown hair, flipping it to one side, and tilting her head back slightly in the process. As she does, he gets a glimpse at the tiny bit of dried blood that coats the inside of her nose.