Grape Juice from Lemons

CHAPTER II

Her...

" Would you like another shot of tequila, miss? "

The boy with the curly hair asks behind the counter. He has dashing green eyes, capturing everything around him like a magnet. If you only dare to look a bit closer, you'll see the deep, painful nothingness of his pupils as they stare at your dead and dull eyes, actually not giving a damn if you want a drink or not.

It's just his job, he gets the pay, but from afar, those eyes look real, rare, raw. Like they could make you smile.

I've heard that question once or twice this evening though. Oh, but that must mean that he cares whether I have a drink or not. He's different, he cares.

To his dismay, I don't plan on being blackout drunk tonight, not surprised if I end up that way, but I'm not one to drink when there isn't a reason to. Smith's out of jail because he wasn't accused of manslaughter like I thought he would be. It made me rethink about the burning car, the crash. The flames engulfed my eyesight for the whole day. I hate the memory of it. I hate the feeling that overtakes me when I think about that night.

I have to get to my house though, precisely my house because no-one could call that cold wood-celler a home. There wouldn't be anything drawing me to it, except for one tiny toddler fist-sized heart beating in between the cracked walls and crooked fence.

I wipe my mouth clean, probably wiping off all the cheap makeup I have on my lifeless face before I answer the barman.

" I'm good. "

I discard the drink and wave him off as he gives me a shrug. The poor boy really wanted to spike my drink and rape me after so I couldn't walk for a week.

Yet, the boy seems way too innocent and even my mind can't make him look dangerous enough for me to believe my theory. The boy behind the counter looks far too familiar for such an act of cruelty.

Ben.

A little chipped and dirty name tag reads. The most casual and lame name I've heard this century, but honestly, it's a good break from all the other ones.

Ben is a name I would give a bald man who works at a gas station far away from town, who occasionally spits in a rusty bucket, if it would be up to me I'd call him something more exotic. But Ben is fine for the time being.

" Ben, have you seen anyone fancy in this club?"

" I should probably direct you towards a mirror, miss." His dimples show when he smiles.

" Well, aren't you just sweet? So flattering of you to say." Sarcasm dripping from my lips.

" Look at Tiffany over there, her tight dress and beautiful long legs." Ben gives me a sly chuckle as he wipes the glass clean. I know she's too wild for him.

" Not really my type, miss."

" So you would rather spare your glares at Lucas and his tight jeans and shirt? I mean the hunk looks dashing, no wonder everyone likes him so much. Don't get excited down there though, I hear you're a closet case." I point to the bar as he falls silent looking at me, holding the glass.

" Or, you know if not Lucas. Then, have you at least met any other cute guys around here? Preferably straight or bi for me. But hey, if you want to hit someone before me you do you. "

I grab a cup of soda from behind the bar and drown it. Ben just stands there, staring at me as he analyses my words. The purpose of my question toward Ben was simple. I wanted to be entertained, I wanted to make sure I knew who he was and I wanted to embarrass him. Have a little fun, whilst being sober, that's a challenge.