He laughs. “Okay. But only if you get my good side.”
“Do you have a bad side?”
“Yes. But it’s more of an internal thing.”
I hold my phone up and snap a picture of him as he raises his eyebrow, grinning. If that’s not his good side, I don’t think I can handle the better one. I close the camera app on my phone, slip my phone back into my bag, and nod. I’ll wait until later to text Marnie.
“We good to go?”
“Lead the way.”
He opens the door for me, placing his hand ever so gently just above the small of my back as I pass in front of him. Instead of making my knees give out, it seems to give me more confidence—which is surprising. I have a feeling this is the fourth of many pleasant surprises tonight. The first was that this guy started talking to me. The second was that he invited me to have a drink. The third was that I am actually going with him.
“Have a good night, Stan.” Vince salutes him.
“Thanks for stealing my customer, you jerk.”
“I owe ya one.”
I wave to Stan and make an apologetic face from the sidewalk as the door closes.
It’s still kind of warm, and the sun hasn’t set yet. There are plenty of people walking around. It doesn’t even occur to me that I don’t want to run into my ex. All I can think about is how flipping flapping glad I am that I put some effort into not looking like a hobo.
A mere ten minutes ago, I didn’t think I was the kind of girl who went for drinks with sexy tattooed strangers. But right now I am just putting one foot in front of the other and trusting that my twenty-seven-year-old life of being smart and safe isn’t about to end—it’s just going to get more interesting.
Vince walks in step with me. The two-inch space between us is both appropriate and filled with possibilities. I can see Bitters a couple of blocks ahead. A few people are milling about in front of it. I take a deep breath and a quick glance at this beautiful man who’s staring at me like I’m a pop quiz and he’s got all the answers in his pocket.
“So, you walk by Bitters all the time, but you’ve never been in before?”
“I’ve never really been to any bar in Brooklyn, actually.”
“Really?”
A sad kind of chuckle escapes my throat. “It’s weird, saying that out loud.”
“You new to the area?”
“Kind of.”
“When’d you move here?”
“About three years ago.”
He laughs and then looks back at me and realizes I’m not joking. “Jesus. What the hell have you been doing with yourself?”
“Oh, I go to restaurants. Bar and grill-type places. I mean, I did. With my fiancé. Ex-fiancé. He’s older. He wasn’t into the bar scene.”
For a split second, it’s like the shadow of a cloud passes over Vince’s gorgeous sexy face. He blinks and shakes his head. “Older ex-fiancé, huh? Now I think I know why you need a drink.” We arrive at the entrance to Bitters. He reaches for the door and leans into me, so close I can feel his breath in my ear. “Welcome to Brooklyn, Nina. I hope I can show you the good time you deserve.” One wink as he leans away, and I have no doubt that he can. I just wonder if I’ll let him.
Bitters is not too big, not too small, not too crowded. It greets us with dim lighting and the crooning of a raspy-voiced, guitar-playing singer-songwriter whose name I don’t know, but I hear him from speakers all over Brooklyn. Maybe this is the summer I’ll learn the names of alternative singers and actually become cool enough to live here.
“Vince!” yells out the bartender. “You asshole! Where’ve you been?”
Vince raises his hand in the air. “Everywhere!”
The bartender is cute and bearded and tattooed. He tosses a dishtowel over his shoulder and saunters over to the front of the bar. They clap hands, and Vince gestures for me to join him. “Nina, this is Denny. Denny—this is Nina’s first time through that door.”
“Hey there, Nina.” Denny grins. Denny’s a flirt. “Hope it won’t be your last.”
“It’ll be your last if you don’t watch it.” Vince points at Denny.
“Nice to meet you, Denny.”
Vince leans over the counter and says something in Denny’s ear. Denny looks me up and down, smiling. He nods and lifts the flip-up counter for Vince.
“Take a seat, young lady,” Vince says to me. He nods at the two women at the bar who have been ogling him since we walked in, shifting his attention right back to me. “One not-too-girly-not-too-fruity drink with an edge, coming right up.” He holds up a very large glass.
“Just one?” I ask. “You aren’t going to join me?”
“I’m having a beer.”
I give him a stern look, the kind that my principal ex-fiancé gives students when they say the wrong thing.
“I’m not having a beer?”
“That’s another one of my conditions. You’re having what I’m having.”
Something flashes in his eyes, and it gives me the kind of buzz that makes me wonder if I even need alcohol anymore.
I think I’m already drunk on him.
“I’m starting to wonder what I’ve gotten myself into here, Nina.”
“We’re on the same page, then.”
He smiles and shakes his head as he grabs one more of those glasses.
“That’s a pretty big glass.”
“It’s a pretty big drink.”
He starts reaching for bottles on the shelves behind the bar, and I’m not the only one who’s enjoying the view of his backside. Those two other women eye me with jealousy, and it’s strangely satisfying. The folk-rock song transitions seamlessly to a dreamy sexy techno ballad, and my body starts swaying a little, as if it comes to bars like this and sways to music all the time.
I consider sending a text to Marnie to let her know where I am. But I don’t want to take my eyes off Vince’s hands, as per our agreement. He watches me watch his hands as he pours and measures and shakes and strains. The final product is blue, and the cherry garnish does absolutely nothing to make it look less devastating. He places both glasses on the counter in front of me.
“Hang on,” he says. “We’ll get a booth. Don’t drink it yet.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t.”
He doesn’t make eye contact with me again until he’s finished cleaning up, clapped hands with Denny, and come around to my side of the bar. He’s very focused and he cleans up after himself. I like it.
“We don’t have to pay for these?”
“Nah. That guy owes me so many favors, I could drink for free for the rest of my life.” He picks up the glasses and nods toward a booth. “Care to join me?”
“Those drinks look like they’ve got more than a bit of an edge.”
“Looks can be deceiving.” He gestures for me to slide into the booth and sits down next to me. He sits close enough for the side of our thighs and arms to touch.
I look over at him through heavy eyelids. I may be giving him bedroom eyes, and I’m not even trying. It’s like my body has been waiting for this opportunity for years and it’s not going to let my brain screw this up by thinking my usual thoughts.