A Promise Fulfilled [WattyAwards#2012]

Chapter I: A New Beginning

Chapter I: A New Beginning

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"You know, life fractures us all into little pieces. It harms us, but it's how we glue those fractures back together that makes us stronger."

― Carrie Jones, Entice.

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It was not Dex's usual habit to stop for a drink, but the stock market had chosen this particular day to trip him, kick him a few times in the ribs, liberally use the baseball bat and spit on his Armani suit for good measure. So it was with weariness and slight short-tempered disposition that Dexter Pryce made his way into the Cat and Fiddle Bar, the most expensive and perhaps most unfortunately named establishment in the neighbourhood.

Dex didn't even bother heading straight for the counter; instead, he found a small table tucked away in a dimly lit corner, far from any patrons. He didn't need companionship. He dropped his briefcase with a thud, wincing when he remembered his laptop was in there, and sank into the booth, burying his head in his folded arms.

He was so busy listing the reasons to commit hara-kiri over plummeting stocks of his company that he didn't hear a stranger approach until he sat down across from him and cleared his throat. Dex raised his head, startled, only to be met by the sight of pale lavender eyes, bright even in the low light.

"Do you need a drink?" The boy, whom he presumed to be one for he looked no older than twenty, ignored Dex's shock and slid a glass across the table, leaving a wet trail on the wood. "Of course, I wasn't sure what you wanted, but a beer's a beer, right?"

"Um...right." Dex took the drink, lifted it to his mouth without swallowing and stared at his new companion through the foggy glass. Thick blond tresses with specks of red dripped along the angelic visage, brushing delicately over the gentle roundness of his cheekbones. He wore a pair of tight jeans and a pale blue knit sweater—certainly not the usual uptown bar customer. He had a purple sharpie tucked behind one ear, and light smears of charcoal on his face. He looked younger, almost like a child, and he moved his shoulders every few seconds as if trying to work a kink in his back.

"My shoes cost twenty-five bucks, by the way. Are you done?" The boy smiled, flashing his dimples, and Dex lowered his glass sheepishly. How could he be checking out the boy? "I didn't spike it or anything if that's what you're worried about."

"Then why give it to me?" Dex asked. He had no obligation to be polite to a stranger, after all.

The boy shrugged, hands curling around his own tall glass of amber liquid. "You looked like you could use it, and you weren't planning on ordering any time soon."

Dex frowned, and took a small sip of beer. It tasted normal, or at least not extraordinarily different. "Still...why?"

"Why a random act of kindness for a complete stranger?" The boy shrugged again. "Maybe I wanted to be an anomaly. Break the mold."

Dex "hm-med" and took another sip. That couldn't be it. People didn't work like that. He tried to study the boy once again, more surreptitiously through his eyelashes. But he was watching Dex right back, the beginnings of a smirk spreading across his impish face.

"Or maybe..." the stranger continued. "I wanted to somehow atone for something I've done. Maybe I killed someone. Stole from an old lady. Kicked a puppy. And I'm trying to balance out the karma."

"Maybe you're just trying to f*ck with my head even more," Dex grumbled, but he couldn't stop his own smile. Just who was this person?

"There's that." The boy chuckled softly before lifting his glass and taking a large gulp. He thumped the glass back down and pressed his lips together. "Actually, truth be told, I came into a bit of money recently, and I wanted to see if rich beer somehow tasted better than dirt-cheap crap. And you know what?" He made a face. "It doesn't." He frowned, pushing the the drink away, and propped his chin up on his hands, studying Dex's face in way that made the other squirm. "Tell me, why did you bother becoming rich if the beer is all yucks anyway?"