HOOKED ON ZERO

THE APPOINTMENT

    Chapter One
          Zero

Even before I opened the swing doors, the smell of liquor hit me like a force. I stood for a bit taking in the scenery before me. Men and women from different works of life crowded the chairs and the dance floor. Some chatted amongst themselves, while others rocked to the beats from the live band playing on the stage.

The bar, however, seemed to be in a different world of its own. All around it sitting on stools were men jostling for beer or whisky, while others threw back the contents from their bottles down their throats.

It looked like a war-zone, except the prize was alcohol and there would be no prisoners.

I smiled to myself. It was stampede night. All the stools around the bar had been occupied, but I needed to be close to the beer, so I headed there. I sashayed forward, my hips taking up a rhythm of their own.

"Hi!" I flapped my eyelashes at this guy with a port belly that could rival King Kong's. "Can I have a seat, please, kind sir?"

He looked at me long enough to know I had a b sized-cup and full hips, and then he made the mistake of leering. "Yeah, sweetheart, you can seat on my lap and I'll give you some of my beer."

Poor man.

I knew he was going to try to draw me to him, and I sighed tiredly.

I gave him a chance. I even stepped back, but he was such a pig-headed son of a gun, so I tried telepathy instead. Maybe that was his thing.

Don't do it, mister, it'll only end in sorrow for you.

But when do men ever listen?

As his hand rose to curl around my waist, I fisted my right hand and hung it in the air as a warning. He flashed his upper missing teeth at me instead of taking heed, stood and walked close to me.

Maybe he thought I was some helpless woman that didn't know how to defend herself, or it could have been because I had red hair and wore a leather mini skirt. Whatever the case was, he didn't see it coming.

My hand landed on his jaw, hot and heavy, giving him an upper cut and making sure to rearrange it. Yeah, he wouldn't be able to talk to anyone for awhile, that's for sure.

For a big man, he went down pretty quickly. He was out like a light at my feet. Make that a beer-filled light.

"Hi, Z!"  Ron smiled at me from behind the counter. He didn't so much as blink as he set a green bottle in front of me.

I opened it, about to tip it into my mouth when from the corner of my eyes, I saw him. It had to be him. He stood out like a sore thumb in stark comparison to the other guys around. What with his cold demeanor and all black leather get up, he was a poster boy for dangerous, and he wore it well. He sauntered over to me and with a piercing look at the guy sitting beside me, that one fled, and he took his place.

"I can see you've already made yourself at home." He glanced meaningfully at the unconscious man lying not far from my feet. One of the bouncers was already dragging him away by his legs.

"What can I say, I'm a regular." I shrugged, tipping back my head and gulping the contents of my bottle and smacking my lips after.

"I'll have what she just downed." He indicated to Ron, who had anticipated his request and set before him an identical green bottle.

The man removed a long brown envelope from inside his coat and slid it on the table towards me. I caught it, just before it could get away. As I brought out a 12 by 14 black and white picture of a man from the envelope, I became mesmerized. The man in the picture could have been mistaken for a model by all and any standards. His black hair framed an oval face and a square jaw, while his eyes were grey, hooded and smoldering.