An 18 year old boy stood outside of a bar, trying to think up an excuse not to go in. He fiddled with the catch on the black metal bracelet that was around his left wrist, and ran a hand through his spiked back, light brown hair. He sighed as he resigned himself to this fate, and entered. He was immediately greeted by the smell of alcohol (a scent that Liam greatly enjoyed), and the sound of raucous drunks and loud pop music (two things he DOESN'T like). He scanned the establishment, looking not only for his friends, but for anyone interesting to sit next to for when his friends got a bit too drunk. In his momentary pass over, he noticed an orange haired woman wearing a white shirt, black trousers, trouser braces, ad a fedora hat, sitting next to a man in an expensive suit who was drinking champagne. Making a note of this, he went over to a corner table that held two of his classmates, their boyfriends, and one of his friends from the bookstore that he worked at. After a quick greeting and introduction to the two boyfriends, they ordered their drinks. Liam was glad that he wasn't the only one that didn't get an alcoholic drink, and chipped in his money for the round.
Seven rounds later, sixteen failed flirts from his classmates, three threats from the boyfriend of said classmate, and countless jibes at how he doesn't drink alcohol, and Liam wanted a break. He slipped out of his seat while the others were busy drinking and talking about some sporting event that he'd missed (fortunately, he thought to himself). He nudged his co-worker to let him know that he was going for a moment, and wandered into the controlled chaos of the bar. He wove his way to the counter, and ordered another orange juice. He closed his eyes, and listened to the drabbles of conversation that floated past him.
"And then Sarah said
seriously man, you've got to
Shoot him. Next time he tries to
Paint your nails red
I can guarantee that you'll be the only one to have this
That's what SHE said!"
Liam quirked his head, as he realised that the guarantee had come from the people next to him. He turned slightly, and saw the rich man in the suit, still drinking champagne, talking to the fedora wearing woman, who had rolled her sleeves up, probably to deal with the heat, They seemed to be conducting some sort of business with each other. Before he could hear the next part of her spiel, the bartender distracted him by handing him a glass of orange juice, with a little umbrella in it. Liam rolled his eyes, took out the umbrella, put it down and pocketed it before turning his attention back to the deal. He watched as the rich man thought about something before speaking. If the suit and the champagne hadn't told you that he came from serious money, then his voice would have. It had a 'I'm-better-than-you' tone to it, and each word came out with perfect pronunciation.
"So if I give you $10,000 in cash
you will give me the one thing that no rich person I've ever met owns...and you'll have it in my house by the end of the month? That sounds like a very good deal to me." He dipped his hand inside his coat pocket, and bulled out a bulging wallet that looked as if it was about to burst. He carefully opened it, and withdrew a stack of crisp notes. Quickly putting the wallet away, he folded the stack of money, and handed it to the business woman. "Well if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make sure that my house has a clear space where I can display this new item to all my friends." He got up, drained his champagne flute, pulled a few notes from his trouser pocket to pay, tidied himself up, and left. Liam watched the man leave, and then turned to the woman, who was smiling happily to herself as she pocketed the money. "...if he's rich, then he'll have met a lot of other rich people," Liam theorised, "so what could you possibly have to offer him that none of them could possibly have obtained, other than humility, an absence of possessions, or an honest lawyer?" He raised his eyebrow in question, watching the woman and waiting for her answer. The woman turned towards the departing rich man, and called out after him.
"Pleasure doing business with you, my good man~!" She turned back around, and glanced over at Liam. She placed a finger on her lips as they slid into a small smile. "That." She started, her ultramarine blue eyes twinkling with mischief, "is confidential information that I'm not allowed to give out to just anybody." She turned back to the counter, and picked up the strange tiny plate like cup that had her drink on it and carefully drank its contents. Liam raised his eyebrow and shrugged.
"Alright then." He took a drink from his orange juice and sighed. "You know, I would much rather be back in my flat, reading a book and drinking a cup of tea than sitting in this bar right now
" He mused, more to himself than his current companion, who simply shrugged as if to say 'And I care, because?'
One of Liam's classmates wobbled into a standing position, and shouted across the bar, her voice somehow devoid of any slurring. "YO LIAM! YOU'RE NOT GONNA BE ABLE TO GET A TAXI BACK TO VALIM STREET IF YOU DON'T LEAVE SOON!" Liam started at the sudden statement.
"What?" He turned around quickly, accidently jolting the woman sitting next to him. The jostle caused the hand that she was reaching for the small clay bottle accompanying her plate-cup to knock over the afore mentioned bottle. Her eyes widened incredulously.
"Ahh... Ah...?" She waved her arm at Liam in a 'What gives' way, catching his attention, and causing him to notice what he accident made happen.
"Aah! S-sorry!" Liam stammered, riffling in his pocket for some money so that he could repay her. Before he could though, his co-worker, who was now completely drunk, staggered over to him, and took a firm grip on Liam's arm.
" Come on, We've gotta go beffore we mish the lasht taxshi" Liam flinched away from the smell of alcohol mixed with cheese and onion crisps that rolled out of his friends mouth. Before he could argue though, he was dragged off and bundled into a waiting taxi. "Thirty shix, Valim shtreet." Liam could contain himself no longer.
"What the hell man!" he yelled. "I was trying to pay for the drink that I just spilled!" His friend made no answer, other than to snore gently. Liam gently massaged his temples, and made a mental note to give that woman the money for the drink if he ever saw her again. After a couple of minutes, the taxi pulled up in front of a block of flats. Liam got out, gave the driver his friends address, and said that his friend would pay all the money. Liam entered the building, checked his mail and walked up the flights of stairs to the fifth floor, unable to shake the feeling that something was going to happen. He sighed, and entered his cozy flat, and making himself some jasmine tea.