Dusty Bar Room

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She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Part of her almost missed the days when smoke would hang in the air like a protective fog by this time of night. The jukebox was still playing softly from a patron who'd dropped too many quarters in it before closing time. She was boxing up empty beer bottles and singing along softly to Merle -- something she did only when alone. This truly was her favorite time of the night.

She had been working in the bar for almost four years and had come to love the quiet after 2am when everyone was gone and she could absentmindedly clean and decompress. Once the bar emptied, she was able to ease her defenses. Bartending was the perfect job for her already thick skin. She could toss an insult out while pouring a draft, shaking a cocktail, and rolling her eyes at a drunk all at once without breaking a sweat. That was the easy part. Those were muscle memory skills honed to perfection after way too many nights behind the bar. It was easy to make people happy when she had three feet of bar and a pleasant buzz between them.

"Shit, you're tone deaf Sasha," came a gruff voice from the dark corner stage area. She jumped a foot in the air and the box she'd been working on made a loud clanking sound. She squinted through the dim dusty light.

"God Jack, you scared me to death. I didn't think anyone was still here."

He smiled to himself, knowing she couldn't see him. If she'd been able to see him it would have been a smirk. "I hope not. I know you're mean but I don't think even you are cruel enough to subject anyone to what was just coming out of you. Was that supposed to be The Hag?"

She rolled her eyes and clenched her jaw. That man was one of the many reasons she preferred the quiet company of no one and the anonymity of a crowded smoky bar. Jack had been playing bluesy Americana to crowds who were too drunk to truly appreciate him for a couple of years now. Sasha didn't know much about him, but she knew enough to avoid him. He was dangerous. He was too talented for his own good. He was smart enough to write his own music and lyrics and bring them to life in a new and different way each night. He appeared to be sweet and vulnerable and sexy when he was playing, but when he was at the bar with buddies or fans he was the most arrogant asshole she'd ever seen in action. Her time behind the bar taught her many things. One big lesson was that the more they bragged, the deader they were inside. Sasha shook her head imagining all of the poor little silly girls who'd left the bar with Jack never to come back again. If it were her bar, she'd ban the fool once his sets were over. He was bad for repeat business.

She glared at him and said in an even tone, "That's why they pay you the big bucks and all I get are shitty tips and roaming hands."

He closed his guitar case, picking it up by the handle, and stood up. His plain black t-shirt clung to his sweaty arms and his faded blue jeans lead her eyes slowly down his long legs to his worn boots before she could stop their travel. Sasha felt her cheeks flush as he approached. She felt anger build at his casual gate while she was still working hard. If she were being honest, she'd also admit that part of her anger was pointed at herself for reacting to the presence of his rugged body. She tried to fight her frustration. It wasn't his fault that he was cocky and she was tired.

He eased into a seat at the bar, watching her. His eyes flicked from her creamy pale skin to her dark red tank top to her dark brown hair piled on top of her head. He tried to ignore the fact that she was beautiful and focus on the fact that she was mildly pissed and probably hated him a little more than most women did. That fact didn't stop him from what he was about to say.

"Well, you let me know if you need any help with the roaming hands. Tits I can't do much about." He shrugged as if he were going to offer some deep insight and said, "You could always try showing a little more cleavage. The guys in here are too wasted to do much imagining when you're all covered up like that." He gestured with his chin towards her chest.

She felt her slightly flushed cheeks go hot. "I said tips you degenerate." She let down the box of empties a little too aggressively on the floor and heard a few break. She cringed. Max would be pissed in the morning. He loved his recyclables right down to the penny. Sasha let out another slow hopefully calming breath.

Jack made a clicking sound with his tongue. "Now, now little barmaid, don't get too riled up. I was kidding. Your tits are just fine. Are you going to pour me a drink or do I have to get it myself?"

Sasha stood up, some of her hair falling in her face. She huffed out a breath and blew the errant strands out of her eyes. "Pour you a drink? First of all, we're closed and I'm trying to get out of here. Second of all..." She trailed off trying to come up with a second of all. "...I get paid until 2am to serve fools whom I'm none too fond of. Why would I want to do it for free at 3?"

Jack broke out into a grin at her reasoning. "You have a point sweet Sasha, but you're forgetting one thing."

She put her hand on her hip and waited, fully expecting his response to be something sarcastic designed to piss her off even more.

"What's that Jackson?" She smiled at the grimace the use of his full name caused. He'd made the mistake of letting one of his buddies from home drink with him one night. Several useful blackmail tidbits emerged that evening.

"Well for one, I'm not actually one of your many drunken puppy dog followers. More importantly you're forgetting the simple fact that Max loves me because I fill his bar. I suggest you remember your place and pour me a drink." Jack's tone grew darker and Sasha stood still. She held her ground, not following his order. Part of her loved the thrill that went up her spine at Jack's dark commanding tone.

They stared at each other, a standoff in the dark quiet bar. She let his words sink in. He was right. If she wasn't careful she'd drive him away and the bar would lose a lot of business. Jack may have been lacking in many areas, but he was talented. And he knew how to engage a crowd. Sales doubled each night when he played. Besides, it was common knowledge to anyone who worked for Max that closers could have a couple drinks on the house and a couple more if they wanted to pay.

"Fine Jack," she said softly, her voice even and deadly. His eyebrows perked as she acquiesced. She picked up a bottle of whiskey and set it on the bar along with a clean shot glass. "But pour it yourself and don't empty the bottle. I am trying to close."

He licked his lips. She tried not to watch as his tongue traced slowly along his bottom lip, but she felt a tug in her stomach from the sight. He slowly smirked. "That's more like it little lady," he said in a frighteningly accurate Duke impression.

He paused, mid pour. "Hey," he said simply, waiting for her to stop her new activity of straightening the bottles behind the bar. He kept waiting until she turned back around to face him. She looked at him with her eyebrows raised. "What Jack?" she asked wearily.

"First of all," he said clearly mimicking her intonation from earlier, "I do not appreciate the implication that I would drain this bottle tonight."

She placed her hand on her denim clad hip and locked her deep blue eyes on his dark brown ones. "It wouldn't be the first time. And second of all?" she asked teasingly.

"Well..." he paused for a moment, "and second of all, get another glass. I'm not drinking alone tonight."

She hesitated, but only for a brief moment. "One drink guitar player, that's all. And then I'm kicking you out. I'm beat."

He reached for the second shot glass and filled them both to the brim. He chugged his back while hers stayed poised at her lips. She took a quick whiff. She was a big fan of whiskey and impressed many patrons with her tolerance and her ability to drink just about anything. Sasha took a slow sip and set her glass down.

"Sasha, I know you're tired, but I didn't mean a drink of a drink. I meant you're having an entire drink." He poured himself another and downed it quickly, refilling his glass again and taking a little sip of his third.

"Easy Jack," she said softly, a little kinder than she meant to. Her bartender gut reaction to his sad haunted eyes was to get him talking and ease his pain, but her sensibility took over. "Don't make me cut you off," she finished in a harsher tone.

He scoffed, blowing a breath out of his nose in a bull-like fashion. "You're all talk, barmaid."

She arched an eyebrow at him and tossed back her shot, swallowing slowly, feeling it. She didn't usually drink at the bar, but once in a while on the right kind of night she wanted to just let it all go and cut loose. She knew better than to let something like that happen around Jack. She knew she'd never hear the end of it, although she did implicitly trust that nothing bad would happen to her around him.

He refilled her glass while she turned away to finish straightening the bottles. Jack enjoyed the moment of silence from her all too glib talk and took the time to appreciate the view. She was simple on the outside. Messy hair that looked like it had taken her five seconds to do -- which it probably had -- an old worn deep red tank top that looked softer than her velvety skin, and painted on blue jeans. His eyes paused on her jeans preventing him from making it down to her black cowboy boots and he ignored the feelings awakening in him caused by the sight of her fantastic ass. He let out a little sigh. "Fine," he thought, "she's gorgeous. She has no clue just how beautiful she is and would argue with anyone who tried to convince her. Big deal." He took another sip.

Sasha turned around to see Jack's eyes locked on her and a foggy dreamlike expression on his face. She also saw her glass had been refilled. "I said one drink Jackson."

He creased his brow at the use of his name again, which made her smile. "Settle down barmaid. Drink your drink then I'll let you close up. Lord knows we can't let you go past two shots on a Friday night."

She clenched her jaw at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He gave her a half grin. "Well... it means that I know a tightly wound girl when I see one and I'd hate to be in any way tied to the reason for your unraveling."

Sasha made herself relax her jaw for fear of breaking a tooth. "Tightly wound?"

He laughed. "Yes Sasha. You are tightly wound. You are the definition of tightly wound. You do a great job of denying it and hiding it when the tips are flowing, but as soon as the customers are gone and it's just you and I, you're back to tightly wound. And it becomes so easy to rile you up."

She took a breath. "Are you pretending to know me again? Do you remember what happened the last time you presumed to know the slightest thing about me?" She held his gaze, refusing to look away. She would not back down.

He glanced away first. "Yeah, well... I apologized for that repeatedly, didn't I?"

She felt her cheeks flush at the memory.

It had been about a year ago. She was dating a guy and he'd come to pick her up at the bar when her shift was finished. Earlier in the evening she had been talking to a waitress about how he'd been treating her lately. It wasn't good. He'd been picking fights and calling her some ugly names. They had just had a pretty nasty text battle and she was venting to her co-worker. Jack overheard her. He was at the bar after a set drinking with another band that had been playing down the road. He'd never seen Sasha upset like that. She would deny it later, but she'd looked scared. So when her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend came in to take her home, Jack just couldn't resist. He'd broken the loser's nose and knocked out a tooth before Max pulled him off. Jack could still remember what the asshole had said to really set him off. "How I treat my bitch has nothing to do with the failure she works with."

Sasha had been furious. She was so angry at Jack for how he had behaved. She was angrier still with herself for putting up with a man who treated her like that if even for a moment. She knew better than that. She took it all out on Jack. And he had apologized. Profusely. He'd apologized for defending her and standing up for her even when he didn't mean a word of his apology. He'd never seen her so angry. It was like he had crossed some line and made her feel like she couldn't take care of herself. She'd taken a break from dating after that and hadn't looked back.

As the blush on her cheeks began to dissipate, she felt herself nod. "Yeah, you did." Sasha felt a pang of regret for how she'd treated Jack that night. She knew she was letting him have all of the anger she felt about the situation and that none of it was really his fault at all. But she'd been so embarrassed. Embarrassed that she was dating a man who would act like that. Embarrassed that her hunky jerky coworker had to become her defender. Mostly embarrassed that she couldn't take care of it herself.

She let out a sigh. "Sorry I brought it up," she said softly. She downed her second shot and nodded to her now empty glass. "One more?" she asked, licking her lips.

Jack's eyebrows arched. "You sure?"

She met his gaze, feeling a nice little buzz from the whiskey. "Can't handle another one?" She gave him a half grin and licked her lips again.

Her intense gaze didn't miss how his eyes watched her tongue. And she really didn't fail to notice the way it made him squirm. She most definitely did not miss the way her own body reacted to Jack's clearly visceral reaction.

He glanced at the bottle. It was about half still full of amber liquid. "Sweetheart, I can handle the rest. Can you?"

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. "I could drink you under the table little boy." She kept her palms pressed to the bar, leaning forward, challenging him with her body as much as with her words.

He smirked. And slowly shook his head. "No, no you could not. But you're stubborn enough to go into an alcohol induced coma trying. So how about we just finish the bottle. Or are you too proud to go back on your earlier warning?"

She tilted her head, still feeling that sweet buzz spread. "Ok, fine. You're possibly right. But we are going to go shot for shot until that bottle is gone. And if Max is mad tomorrow we are blaming you."

He grinned at the change in her phrasing. It almost sounded like they were a team now. He kind of liked it.

"Alright little barmaid," he said softly sliding the bottle to her, "get pouring."

*******

Sasha closed one eye trying to even out their final two drinks. Her hand was slightly less steady than it usually was when she poured a shot. Normally she could do it quickly while only half looking, but now she had to focus her attention on the bottle and the glass in order to make her hand communicate effectively with both of them. Jack watched her with a grin.

"Well little barmaid, I've got to hand it to you. You're a pretty good drinking buddy."

Her cheeks were pink from the compliment and the whiskey when she brought her eyes up to Jack's. "Thanks, you're not --," she cut herself off, "Shit, I'm spilling. Stop distracting me."

His grin grew. "So sorry. I didn't mean to be a distraction to you. It's a wonder you're able to work so effectively usually with me playing in the corner. I didn't realize I had the ability to distract you."

She leaned down, level with the bar, giving Jack a very nice view of the creamy skin spilling over her tank top. She eyed both glasses, making sure they were as even as they could be.

"Ok. That's the last of it. No more drinking after these. You've had enough."

Jack had never seen Sasha like this before. The only time he'd ever seen her remotely drunk was shortly after they'd met when she really hated him. A group of his friends had been at the bar after his set and Sasha had come in on her night off with some friends. She wasn't sweet and laid back then. If anything she was even angrier and surlier. He figured she was just a bad drunk. But the girl in front of him was anything but. She had softened with the whiskey. She was borderline sweet. And Jack liked it. A lot.

He shook his head assessing the two glasses. "I don't know. I think yours has more in it. I dare say your pouring skills get worse the more you drink." He smirked.

She shot him a look. Her eyebrows raised and her lips twisted to the side in a little pout. "Yeah, alcohol impairs one's otherwise excellent skills. Good deduction Jackson. I'm sure you can't play worth shit right now, guitar man."

He raised his eyebrows. "Sorry, did you just imply that I am unable to currently play the guitar due to my intake of a few drinks?" He sounded as if he could not believe the words he was hearing.

She smiled sweetly. "No Jack. I'm outright saying: I bet you could not play a song the way you usually can due to the intake of several drinks."

He couldn't help but chuckle. "So, is it safe to then assume that you usually think I play pretty well?"

She raised her eyebrows in actual surprise. "Are you really asking me that?"

He nodded, the grin fading from his face.

"Jack you know you're fantastic..." she trailed off looking down into their final drinks. "I mean, I look forward to coming to work much more on the nights you play. There's a lot of bad music peppered throughout this city, so it's really nice to get to listen to something good all the time here."

Sasha looked up after a moment, expecting to find a gloating look on Jack's face. But she didn't. Instead she saw genuine surprise. Then he gave her a sweet little shrugging smirk. "Thanks Sasha," he said simply. He nodded, punctuating the moment and reached to take his last drink. He stood, leaning closer to her, sliding her drink to where she stood still across the bar from him.

She watched him carefully, trying to ignore the now uncomfortable buzzing in her head. She eyed her last drink, thinking she should not drink it until she saw a challenging glint in his eyes. He could smell her hesitation and just like that the moment was over and their dynamic was back in balance.

He arched an eyebrow. "Tapping out on me are you?"

She made a face. "No. I am not. You looked like you were about to make a wedding toast. I was being polite."

She felt her cheeks grow warmer as he watched her mouth. He nodded playfully. "Mmhm, I'm sure. However, I am not going to make a toast. So drink."

He held his glass poised and ready, waiting for her. She took a deep breath and relaxed, tossing back her shot, swallowing hard. A shiver ran through her body. "Ok, ok Jackson. You got me. I'm done. No more."

She took their glasses and the empty bottle and placed them behind the bar, wiping the bar down. Jack smiled. Even drunk she was a stellar employee.

She made her way out from behind the bar and Jack couldn't help but notice the proximity of her body to his. She looked up at him with wide eyes. "Well Jackson, now you have to walk me home. He who drunkens me must see me home safely."

He laughed at her rule. "I didn't sign up for that."

She gave him a playful pout, a look he had never seen before. A look he liked.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Alright, fine. God, don't pull out the big guns. I'll walk you home."

They made their way to the door of the darkened bar and Jack surprised Sasha as he pressed his hand against her back, guiding her outside, his arm hovering safely behind her as they walked along in the cool quiet spring night.

She inhaled deeply. She was just right. She could feel the heat coming off of Jack's body as they walked the few short blocks to her apartment in relative silence.