Noire

Everyone wants the baddest b***h in the room.

Point of view: Archer

I walked into Styxx bar, to get away for a little while. I sat down at the bar, "Jack Daniels. Two fingers, with ice." I told the bartender flatly. He set my drink down with a clink, and I picked it up, downing it. I felt the fire go down my throat and settle in my stomach. I look around the bar, just out of boredom when I notice someone in the corner. My eyes adjust to the dim lit bar and I realize its a girl. The first thing I notice is her closed eyes, her full lips, and defined cheek bones. Her long wavy hair, pitch black, her black leather jacket, skinny jeans, and black doc martens, completely eliminates all light. I look back at her face and almost gasp at her eyes. Piercing blue and sharp. Her lips curve into a smirk and I think, D****t Archer you idiot she caught you staring. She pulled a black case out of her pocket, and opened it, slowly drawing a Marlboro out. She kept smirking and watched me as the cigarette dangled from her fingertips. I found myself walking toward her and she looked up at me with those amused cat eyes, "Got a light?" She asked, her voice like sugar coated poison. I flick my lighter and cupped the flame as she lite the Marlboro and inhales deeply.

I put my lighter back into my jeans and watched her, "Archer Calaveras." 

She chuckles and her eyes gleam with mischief as she exhales smoke, pale elegant fingers flicking the cigarette. "Rich boy, eh?"

"How do you know i'm rich?" I ask blatantly. Oh you dumb a*s, shut up. Now she obviously knows your rich. 

She smokes and after a long pause answers bluntly, "Your clothes, your walk. Everything about you just screams wealth." 

"What's a pretty girl like you doing in a dingy bar like this, on the bad side of town?" I ask, not responding to her answer.

She merely smiles sharply, and flicks her cigarette answering with a question of her own, "Whats a rich boy like you doing in the slums? Shouldn't you be in some fancy mansion on the upper side of town?" 

I go to answer, but she cuts me off standing. "Well its been absolutely thrilling, to talk to you, Rich, but lets not do this again," Her voice dripping with sarcasm. She stands and puts out her cigarette, step sides me, and strides to the bar door.

I watch entranced, before shaking my head and grabs my jacket running after her, "Wait I didn't get your name!" I yelled watching her slip a black motorcycle helmet over her wild hair, as she straddles her bike. She ignores me, flipping her visor down and revs the clutch speeding off onto the street" I look at my feet and notice a crumpled flyer "Nightmare performing Saturday".

I'll find you again.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Styxx bar and honest conversation. My favorite type of tale. I like the conversation and proper ending. I enjoyed the tale and thank you for sharing the outstanding story.
Coyote