“You’re practically married,” I hiss.
“He doesn’t know that,” she hisses back.
“Two Jack and Sevens,” Nic says as he pours the 7UP in the glasses, disrupting our conversation. We sit up straight and watch as he squeezes a lime into them. Then, he wipes his hand on the towel before sliding us our first libations of the night. “Do you want to start a tab?”
We shake our heads, knowing we only buy one drink. If we don’t run into any eligible bachelors by the time our drinks are gone, we move to the next bar.
I hold out my cash to buy our round, and just as fast as he arrived, he’s gone and onto other patrons.
We sip our drinks and take in our surroundings. A cute guy in the corner catches my eye, so I sit up taller, seeing if I can get him to look my way. He has wavy hair and is smartly dressed in jeans and a polo. When he smiles at a girl who’s heading toward him, it’s obvious the two are together, so I twist and see who else is here.
“Oh, incoming. Eight o’clock.” Marie nudges me with an alert that someone is approaching us.
I turn in time as a handsome guy with dark blond hair and a crooked grin lays a hand on the back of my chair and leans in.
“Is it okay if my friend and I squeeze in to order some drinks?”
I motion toward the space between me and Marie and let him get closer to the bar to order. There’s another guy behind him—the friend, I presume. They are checking out what beers are on tap when Marie gets my attention.
He’s cute, she mouths.
I nod in agreement.
Nic approaches and takes their drink orders—two Coors Lights—and raises his brow as he stares from me to the guy standing incredibly close. As Nic starts pouring the drinks, the guy steps back and looks at me and Marie.
“Are you ladies in town for the weekend?”
His question makes me cringe. It’s the typical thing a man asks when he’s only here for a tourist hook-up.
No, Evette. You shouldn’t judge someone based on their poor choice of pick-up lines. That’s the point of this.
“We live here in Vegas,” Marie answers. “I’m from Henderson originally, and my friend is a transplant from San Diego.”
He nods, not seeming annoyed that we’re locals, which is a good thing. “That’s cool. My friend and I are from Texas, but we work over at the Bellagio. We have degrees in hotel management, and where better to get the experience than a city built around tourism?”
I smile because their story is familiar to mine. An out-of-towner coming to Sin City for opportunity.
“I’m Evette.” I hold out my hand in introduction.
“Shawn,” he says, and my hand instinctually loosens. He tilts his head as his eyes squint, probably wondering why I seem not as enthusiastic as I was a moment ago.
Shawn is a nice name but not the name I’m looking for.
“And I’m Marie,” she interjects. “Who is your friend?” She motions to the quiet guy behind Shawn.
“Derek,” the friend says. “Are you ladies here with anyone tonight?”
Derek won’t work either.
Marie and I give each other a knowing expression, and in unison, we say, “We’re waiting for someone.”
The men look back at us quizzically, which makes me giggle.
Marie explains, “Sorry, we’re just killing time. Evette has a gentleman on his way.”
“It was very nice meeting you,” I add. “Hopefully, we’ll run into you again. Perhaps in, say, two weeks?”
“Or if all goes well, you won’t be on the prowl then,” Marie says, and I shrug at her wishful thinking that this experiment of mine will end successfully.
Nic brings the guys their drinks, and Shawn places a ten on the bar. As Shawn lifts the beers, he stops like he wants to ask a question, but I turn my head, acting like I see who I’m waiting for walking in. Thankfully, Shawn and Derek head toward the middle of the room, and Nic is still standing here, by the service well, with a raised brow and a smirk.
I lift my drink to him and cheers before taking a sip as he returns back to his work. There’s a characteristic alertness to him as his activity enlivens his whole body. I suppose that’s to be expected from a bartender who is mixing and shaking the night away in such a lively environment.
Marie and I spend the next fifteen minutes or so talking about our jobs while scanning the scene around us and seeing if anyone here has potential.
A tall guy enters the room, quickly piquing my interest. Marie nudges my arm while raising her eyebrows to the front door. I nod my approval as I lean back against the bar and take a sip, checking him out from afar.
Marie does the same, gently biting on her thumbnail as she asks, “Do you ever look at a guy and wonder how he fucks?”
I almost spit out my drink in laughter. “Did you seriously just ask that?”
She playfully slaps my arm. “Yes, I totally did. I think it all the time. I wonder if they like to do it hard and quick or if they hold you tight. Then, I wonder what they’d be like with their arms strained as they tower over you.”
“You have quite the imagination.”
“It’s a gift really. Sometimes, my mind goes wild with daydreams; it’s like I’ve had fifty affairs. You know, I think that’s why my relationship works so well.”
“Because your infidelity is contained to your crazy brain?”
“Exactly!” she states with a point. “Last night, when Sammy was at work, I got it on with BTS.”
“The K-pop group? Aren’t there, like, five of them?” I lift my glass to my lips and swallow the last of it.
“Seven, but Jungkook is my favorite.”
“I thought he was a teenager.”
“He’s in his twenties—totally legal and totally appropriate to mind-bang.”
I nearly spit out my drink with my need to laugh. I spin around and place my empty glass on the bar while swallowing without choking. “That’s what you’re going with?”
There’s a napkin holder on the bar top, so I grab one and wipe the dribble from my chin.
“It’s got a ring to it. Maybe I’ll have a T-shirt made up. Mind-Bang Mistress.” Her arms splay in the air, as if she were showing off the spectacular imaginary title.
If there’s one thing I adore about Marie, it’s her witty personality and active imagination. In short, she’s a loose cannon, a wild child.
“Don’t stop at T-shirts. There are bumper stickers, mugs—”
“You know you want to mind-bang the hot-as-fuck bartender behind us. He is definitely going to be saved for the spank bank.”
“Marie Elena Davis, that is so crude!” I admonish with my eyes wide and a contained laugh. I glance behind us and am grateful he’s not within earshot to hear her. Especially because I add, “He is outstandingly beautiful.”
“Looks like you’ll need a matching T-shirt from the Mind-Bang Mistress club.”
She places her now-empty glass down, and I look at them, disappointed the bar didn’t pan out for us.
“Can I get you another drink?” Nic appears, making me jump in my spot.
My hand rises to my heart, which is beating out my chest. God, I hope he didn’t hear us talking about him. He nods his head to my glass, and I realize he asked a question.