WITH: @catalinastarterâ
It was still odd, maybe even uncomfortable somewhat, to be back home again. The island held many good memories for Kyla and yet for ten years it was somewhere she had avoided returning to like the plague. The friends she once knew had now grown up and moved on, with their own families and jobs and houses. But Kyla had just spent ten years in L.A. and yet she still felt as if she was in still water, floating in no particular direction. She had made some progress though, she had her nursing career and hadnât touched drugs in three years but she still somehow didnât quite feel successful.
Her train of thought had been quite abruptly stolen from her when a man appeared to be rather determined in wooing her but despite all efforts on her behalf, he wasnât quite grasping the concept that she just wasnât interested in him at all.Â
Glancing to her left, Kyla suddenly latched onto a plan to finally be free of him after his return from the bathroom. âExcuse me - hey.â the brunette leaned to the side slightly, spinning in her bar stool aside the bar. âCould you do me a solid and pretend that we were supposed to be meeting here tonight for a drink or something just so I can get this guy to stop chewing my ear off? In return Iâll buy you a drink and then we can go our separate ways. Just - please? He wonât stop talking about Storage Wars.â
Cian had seen his share of nosey people, over-sharing patrons, touchy guys who couldnât take a hint, outright assholes, as well as just clueless ones. Tonight, heâd seen at least one of each. Heâd already kicked out a couple of them. It wasnât something he ever had a problem with, though some of his bartenders usually tried to ease tensions before they stooped to outright kicking people out of the bar. He figured they probably wanted the tips, but he didnât have much patience for people like that, and over the months, it had gained Bad Alibi a somewhat upstanding reputation. As much as a dive bar could have an upstanding reputation, anyway. There was a certain irony in it that he reveled in, if only quietly. He hadnât noticed, but Jenn had pointed out that single women tended to frequent the bar more often than they did when they first opened last Christmas, and that meant something to her at least.
So as he slid a beer across the bar to someone sitting beside a woman, he couldnât help but overhear the womanâs request. He also didnât miss the way the younger woman just kind of gave her a tight smile and walked away to return to the table with her friends by the window. âDonât worry about him,â Cian said, thick Italian accent giving his words a distinct bite. He didnât comment further, knowing the man would be back soon, so he poured a beer for another patron, yelled out an order for a mixed drink to Jennâhe was hopeless at mixing them himselfâand stayed close to the bar where the woman sat. He waited until the man heâd seen talking to her earlier reappeared.
âOut,â he said, barely looking up at the man.
âExcuse me? I havenât done anythââ
âI said out,â Cian repeated, setting down the glass heâd been filling and looking up at the man more clearly. âYou want to harass someone in a bar, go to another bar. Stay out of mine.â The man huffed and tried to grumble another reply, but Cian didnât budge, and he eventually made his way out of the bar, flipping his middle finger over his shoulder at Cian as he did. âDrinks on the house tonight,â he said to the woman, tone polite and casual as if the scene hadnât happened. âWe have pretty much any beer or wine you like, but I recommend something off the cocktail menu. Snow Day is one of my favorites. Itâs a twist on your classic White Russian.â