“Dude, I don’t care how many blowjobs you offer me, get lost. I told you last night to never come back here.” Scott glared at the drunken man, willing him to continue on with his ranting. Instead, the man frowned and Scott caved. He had never understood how people could let themselves go like this. Get so mind numbing drunk you forget what your own name is— until recently. Until his life turned to shit, and as he watched the man dig in his pocket and pull out a wad of cash, he wondered what this guy’s story was. Maybe he had a wife at home who banged the pool boy every Sunday, yet hadn’t touched him in years. Maybe his kids hated him. Maybe he had recently lost his job. The possibilities were endless and they all made Scott sad. Sighing, he dropped the viciousness from his tone and gently shoved the man’s hand away from him. “I’m not allowed to take your money either, sir. Against policy, but come here,” he said, placing his hands on the man’s back and turning him around to face the sidewalk. “Go down a few blocks.” He kept his voice low, knowing the last thing he needed was his boss to find out he was directing people to other establishments. “There is a dingy little bar on the corner. They let anyone in, even if you’re already intoxicated. Plus,” he smirked, “their bartenders are much cuter than ours.”
The man mumbled a ‘thank you’ and stumbled off. Lionel, the front door body guard, grunted as Scott made his way back over to the building. “Do me a solid next time, Lion, when that post Disney Lindsay Lohan lookalike shows up once more, and he will, don’t let him in again.” Radio silence. Always silence with this one. He patted the way too tall, way too broad for Scott’s taste, man on the shoulder. “Nice chat. Hope the kids are doing well. Send Rita my love. Perhaps we can do this again sometime.” Ah, just as expected, nothing. Scott chuckled before slinging the door open and making his way back inside. Working Saturday nights was both a blessing and a curse. The club was always packed wall to wall with drunks, but it was to be expected. What else were people supposed to do in a town like Westfield besides dry hump strangers to the beat of J. Lo’s Waiting for Tonight. But despite the outdated taste their DJs always had, and the endless list of times someone has punched him, he loved his job. He needed this job. All the employees, the regular patrons, and even the janitor, had become his second family. Hell, maybe even his first if things continued the way they were with his parents.
First place his eyes landed on was the bar, and he looked down at his watch in anticipation. Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes until his shift ended and he could go home to drown himself in a bottle of Jack. God, how he could already imagine the coolness of the bottle pressed against his lips, the sour taste coating his tongue, the familiar burn making it’s way down his throat, reminding him that he was slowly but surely letting the devil in. Clenching his fists, he turned his eyes away from the floor, and scanned the room in a desperate search for something, anything to steal his attention away from his own pathetic desire to become one with the lost souls here tonight. And just like magic, as if the universe had read his mind, it happened. Standing across the room from him, was her; the girl he had been searching for every night he worked for the past two weeks. No words had ever been exchanged between the two, nor did he know her name, but there was something about her. Something he couldn’t ever put his finger on. He had watched countless men come and go, hitting on her, using the same old song and dance, and Scott often wondered if maybe, just maybe they had bothered to tell her that when she smiled it brightened up the entire club, if they would have gotten an invite back to her place.
Scott had given up on the idea that he would ever see her again, but now was his chance. A chance he had blew off countless times in the past, but wasn’t stupid enough to do again. A few feet from her now, his mind scrabbled to think of a decent opener, but he abruptly stopped walking when he spotted another guy reaching her first. Scott cringed at his Hawaiian shirt and the terrible thing on his upper lip he called a mustache. The guy looked like he had just stepped off the seat of a 70′s porno. Moving over to the side, he made sure he wasn’t in their eye line, but could still hear their interaction. Was he coming off like a stalker right now? Lisa would probably say ‘for sure’, but he knew things were about to get interesting, and he wanted to be here in case she needed help. Not that he didn’t think she couldn’t handle her own, but some of the guys around here could get real handsy, and he wanted to make sure this creep wasn’t one of them.
