“I love the smell of stale beer in the morning”
Feeling very sarcastic and more cynical than usual as she sat outside the door of the club watching the sky gradually darken, Lia was just waiting for her “work” to begin as everyone else was enjoying the ending of their work and looking forward to their time off. Friday nights in Camden Town got hairy, and usually out of control.
Looking around the bar and the outside area, Lia knew that it was too early for drunken fights and rowdy arguments, and so she leaned back on her barstool propped up at the front door and let her thoughts wander. Thinking back to earlier in the evening when she had been on her way to work, Lia let her thoughts dwell on the good looking guy she'd seen.
Tall, dark and handsome as the cliché went, was only 60% accurate in this case, since he had hair that was more blonde than dark, and down to his waist. His worn leather jacket had been open to display a tight t-shirt covering what seemed to be a divine, and in this case she meant that literally, chest. And, unfortunately for her concentration levels, he had her personal weakness, a broad, muscular set of shoulders. Over time she’d come to the conclusion that there was no point having a man whose shoulders don't stretch out a jacket properly. Broad shoulders normally meant good upper body strength and as someone who always had self-defence or fighting in the back of her mind, that was paramount.
He had smiled and winked at her and she had smiled and waved back, until he disappeared into the usual chaotic Camden crowd. He had been walking down the road away from the clubs, and for a second she thought she had seen bare feet, but had dismissed that as being far too odd, even for a Camden inhabitant.
Lia was dragged back to the immediate present by a squeaky and slightly slurred voice nearby calling out to her. “Hey, baby... Why don't you let me buy you a drink?” Lia sighed; she knew this type all too well. That line had always been the mating cry of the truly drunk or desperate man, possibly both, who somehow believes that because she was wearing a skirt she must be open to his proposals. Lia’s smile slowly disappeared from her face as the wonderful thoughts of Mr. Muscles were rudely interrupted.
“Hey baby, why don't you piss off before I smack you in the teeth with my pink handbag and make you cry for your mommy in front of your friends?” Lia said, not meaning a word of it, but hoping it would put him off before he actually annoyed her. She wasn't having a great day today and she wasn't in the mood to string anyone along for a drink. She knew the amount she'd need to drink to get past sober and put up with his company was far beyond his wallet's capabilities. The urge to smack someone was sometimes hard to resist with drunken guys falling over themselves to be a target.
“Oh please god, woman, keep your aggression issues to yourself. I'm begging you,” a growly and more confident voice came from behind her. Nick was back from his smoke break and was intent on placing himself between her and Mr. Pick up line, as usual, before she lost it and really had a go at someone. It was still early on Friday night, but she'd had a bad week and some idiot had tested her patience on her way here. The strange thing was she couldn't even remember why the week was so bad, just that it was. These days she often felt like that, no particular problems, just a general feeling of restlessness and aggravation. She also couldn't remember what the guy on the train had said or done, but when he grabbed her, she just snapped and smacked him on the nose with her forehead.
No comments:
Post a Comment