Hell-bent

[2] Bad Boys, Bad Boys, Whatcha Gonna Do?

Rodney was on his eighth drink when she came in. Or was it ninth? He noticed her immediately, even through bloodshot eyes and the smokey haze of the bar. Her dark eyes seemed to find his right away, and he was struck with confidence. He opened his palm, tipped slightly to indicate that the stool next to him was unoccupied. To his pleasant surprise, she nodded, and began to walk towards him, seductively placing one leather booted foot in front of the other so that her hips swayed back and fourth, like a delicious pendulum.

Rod had had a crummy night. Make that a crummy week. It appeared as though his boss meant to fire him from the office, likely within the week, and Rodney was bitter as hell. Human Resources was full of bull, if you asked him. There's no way his jokes to the hot young receptionist could be taken as harassment. They were all just a bunch of pansies. Pansies he still needed to work for in order to pay his rent and child support. To make matters worse his girl had run off again, in tears, like always, claiming he did her wrong and blah blah blah. He wasn't too worried about her, she'd be back, but her harpy voice had given him a goddamn headache he hadn't been able to shake for two days. All the beer probably wasn't helping, but hey, he liked to have a drink here and there. No harm in it. 

The temptress sat down in the stool beside him and ordered herself a martini. He'd never touched a drink that came in one of those triangle stem glasses himself, but he appreciated a woman who kept it classy. The woman lifted her jet black hair off the nape of her neck, and placed it all in a single curl over one shoulder. He couldn't help but stare at her as she did it. The way her skin looked velvety smooth under the bar lights, not a blemish in sight, her makeup gave her a fierceness, like some kinda jungle cat. And her dress, well, besides the fact that it fit in ALL the right places, Rodney was reminded of his favourite leading comic book lady growing up, and dammit if that wasn't every kid's wet dream. It was only a matter of time before she caught him staring, but instead of shooting him with some sassy comeback like the girls at the bar usually did, she smiled. 

"What are you drinking tonight?" Flustered by the lack of distain in her tone, Rod stumbled over his reply.

"Lag-er, uh, beer. Um, yeah." He coulda kicked himself for that. Rod didn't have much going for him in the looks department. His mousy brown hair was thinning rapidly, his eyebrows were nearly merged together as one, and the beer habit had given him quite the gut over the years. He was under no illusion of being some kinda model, but over the years he had figured out that looks aren't everything. At the end of the day, all you needed was one sad, lonely, drunk girl who was getting over a breakup or mourning the death of her cat. Rodney nearly had it all down to a science at this point, but this woman, this goddess sitting before him, was completely throwing him off his game. He finished off his pint and flagged down the bartender, who eagerly came to serve him, if only to ogle the lady some more.

"I'll have another pint, same shit, and she'll have a...?" He cocked his eyebrow suggestively at the woman, who had just popped the olive from her martini into her mouth.

"I already have a drink." She raised the glass as proof.

"Well, surely you're going to have more than one, right?" Rod turned to face the bartender. "Hold off on hers until she's ready, but the next one's on me." That asshole of a bartender, who obviously thought he was hot shit, gave Rod a judgmental look. As if Rod wasn't already aware he was out of his league.

Twenty minutes (and three more drinks) later, and he had her giggling like a schoolgirl. She might as well have been putty in his hand. The bartender had long walked off to lick his wounds, unable to get even a glance from the woman since Rod had told his ATV accident story.

"Saved that kid's life is what they told me. 'Course, I just did what anyone would do. Don't consider myself a hero or anything like that, just dumb luck that I was there." She placed one delicate hand on her chest and sucked in her bottom lip, moved by the completely fabricated tale that Rodney told all of his prospects. He had her.