Triplets Make Five

Good lord he was sexy. His muscles bulged under his suit. His dark hair against tan skin, like he’d been in the sun.

I had forgotten about the stage and the dance floor. The man kept looking at me and smiling, and I couldn’t help but smile back. It was sincere and so simple, that I turned away from the room and towards him, my elbow on the bar, as if I was the bartender.

“May I help you?”

“You might.”

It was at that moment that I decided that whatever happened after this, the night wouldn’t be wasted. Just this small interaction with this absolute hottie was better than anything I’d had in month. I already imagined going out with him. Going on a romantic picnic somewhere in the country, away from the busy city, from all the noise and the troubles. We could spend a nice weekend at a resort or on the beach, if the weather allowed…

A girl could dream, couldn’t she?

I wasn’t sure why he was here. His suit was fresh, but it would’ve looked more at home at a business meeting than at a nightclub. I caught a glance at his watch, and it was an expensive one, but not ostentatious, and he didn’t make a point of showing it to anyone.

Was he here for the auction? It didn’t seem like it. He certainly didn’t look like the type to bid on a girl, he could have anyone in here.

And then, like it always happened with me, I began convincing myself not to get my hopes up. How many times have I fallen for a nice guy who had turned out to be just another asshole?

Now, I fully expected him to deliver some cheesy pickup line. What’s a fine girl like you doing in a place like this? The oldest one in the book.

Yet, he didn’t. He was still smiling at me, as if I was the one who had called for him, and he was all ears.

It took me another moment to finally shake the spell, and I said, “So, Mr. Blue. You want to buy me a drink or something?”

He only narrowed my eyes, looking straight into mine. I felt like we were talking without saying a word. He was drumming my fingers on the bar, thinking.

“Mr. Blue?”

I laughed. “Yes, Mr. Blue in the club with a drink. Probably a good start to a murder mystery don’t you think?”

“Interesting.” He was silent for another moment and my palms started sweating. What the hell was I talking about?

Finally, he said, “I don’t think so. Do you want to buy me a drink?”

Ha! Ballsy. I bit my lip. What was my play here? If this was some trick, I had to admit I was falling for it. I was intrigued.

I laughed. “Okay, I’ll buy this round. What’s your poison?”

“Whiskey rocks. A finger.”

“Just one?” I uttered out of nowhere, feeling my cheeks turn red.

“Let’s start with one,” he winked. I wasn’t sure if he was playing along with the dirty subtext or didn’t catch it. Either way, I waved the bartender over and recited the order. When it was delivered, I handed him the glass.

“Your whiskey on the rocks, sir.”

I took my own glass, there was still some wine in it, and we toasted.

“I’ve never served drinks before. How did I do?”

He licked his lips, swallowed his first sip, then responded. “Pretty good. Minus the fingers comment.”

I laughed out loud, and he joined me. “Well, thank you for your feedback!”

“You’re welcome.” He winked at me and I felt like my skin was on fire. What was I doing? Having a drink with some random millionaire, him not knowing that I was nobody special.

“I’m Owen, Owen Hayes, and you are?”

I offered him my hand to shake it, but instead he brought it to his lips and kissed it lightly. A shiver went through my body. “Sydney.”