“It’s fine,” she said.
I leaned over and placed my lips against hers.
“You’ll love it,” I swore to her.
I took her up the elevator to the fourth floor and held her hand as we walked into the bar area. I recognized almost everyone there immediately and was glad to see familiar faces. Michele was tending bar, and Patrick was managing. They were an interesting duo – and just watching the two of them interact was worth the price of the drinks.
The drinks were damn good, too.
“What do you want?” Bridgett said. “A beer or something?”
“No,” I said, “definitely not. Do you like raspberries?”
“I guess so.”
“Hey, Michele!”
The bartender smiled and waltzed over to me. Her dangling silver hoop earrings danced around on her shoulders as she moved, and her mahogany hair swung back and forth in a high ponytail. She had on basic black from head to toe, like pretty much every bartender there, and her smile earned her a lot of big tips.
“Hey there, Evan,” she said with that award-winning smile. “What can I get for you?”
“Give me one of those raspberry martinis you make,” I said, “and Lagavulin, neat.”
“Who’s this?” she asked with a sly grin as she started to make the drinks.
“Michele, this is Bridgett,” I said. They both smiled at each other. “Bridgett, this is Michele with one ‘L.’”
“Don’t forget it!” Michele laughed and nodded her head, which caused her ponytail to bounce around. She reached up on a high shelf to retrieve my scotch and then moved farther down the bar to gather the ingredients for the martini quickly and efficiently.
“You really are going all out here, aren’t you?” Bridgett commented as Michele set our drinks in front of us.
“I figured after last week, you kinda deserved it,” I said with a shrug. “A night on the town is the least I can do to make up for a night with me sick as a dog.”
“Four nights,” she reminded me.
“Right.”
I sipped my scotch and watched her take in the surroundings. It was a nice place – posh, in the heart of the Magnificent Mile, and with a good view of Michigan Avenue. Michele exhibited her usual rockin’ service and seemed to be going the extra mile to be nice to Bridgett, even if she did keep glancing at me sideways. The way she raised her eyebrows, I wondered if she suspected Bridgett’s occupation. Not that it mattered to me – I didn’t give a shit what she thought of my date.
Patrick stopped by and placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Good to see you again, Evan!” he said with a big Doogie Howser smile. “Haven’t seen you in ages!”
“Been busy,” I replied. My eyes bore into his. “I’ve been working a lot lately.”
Patrick removed his hand, cleared his throat, and gave me another managerial smile.
“Make sure you treat this guy well, Michele!”
She gave him a “thumbs up” as she went back to mixing drinks for a couple farther down the bar.
I tried not to watch Michele too much. She was hot – no doubt about it – but she was also married. Not that I gave a shit; I didn’t. I did actually have some scruples, just not in that particular area. However, she had turned me down every time I came on to her over the past year since I first found the place, so I had given up. Still, I liked watching her work, but I had to make sure I wasn’t paying too much attention to her shakin’ and stirrin’.
I ordered a PB&J waffle, and Bridgett just stared at me like I was nuts.
“I’ll give you a bite,” I promised her. “You won’t regret it.”
“I already do,” she stated.