The Dame

I sat at the bar, drowning my sorrows into an empty glass of bourbon, as I had done every night since Beatty had died. I was through, I told myself, washed up. Empty and numb from the waist up. No amount of liquor could reignite that flame, give me back the thrill I felt when it was just me and him, partners, friends, lovers. I took another swig on my glass and received a mouthful of ice, cold like my insides. I signed to the barman for another. He was quick to oblige, sliding the amber nectar underneath my nose in a flash. I took a sip.
“Mind if I perch here for a while?”
It was her scent that got to me first. Orchids and jasmine and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I looked up. Smiled, crookedly, warily. “Sure thing”.
She slid onto the bar stool next to me, and I could feel the warmth of her body as she brushed my bare arm with hers. I got goosebumps. Could this be the girl, this girl with lips that burned red like phoenix fire, who could awaken my iceberg heart?
I picked up my smokes. “Want one?”
“Sure.” She smiled, flashing a set of pearly whites. I held the pack high for her. She took one and placed it between her crimson lips. I lit a match and, as she bent down to light the cigarette, she did not take her eyes away from mine. A lesser person would have turned as cherry as that lip colour of hers, but not me. I stood my ground and held her gaze. She pulled away from the match, not relenting her eyes on mine, deep, intense, examining. Sucking on my cigarette, she exhaled a twirling veil of smoke.. I watched as it surrounded her, almost snake-like, writhing in circles around her face, and then watched as it dissolved into air.
“You waiting for somebody?” I asked.
“No.” She said, in a voice as smooth as the whisky in my hand. “Looking for someone.”
“Oh.” I said, taking another sip of the bourbon, feeling it slip down my throat, steadying me.
“You.” She said. She leaned closer, and despite myself, I breathed in her scent, feeling it intoxicate me, nourish me better than any bourbon could. She placed her warm gloved hand on my arm. “I need your help.”
I smiled, despite myself. “I’m not really in the business of helping people, lady.” I said to her.
She just grasped onto my arm a little tighter. “No, but I think you will be. I need your help. I know who’s responsible for Beatty’s –“
“You don’t beat around, do you?” I said, pulling my arm away from her hand as she mentioned my dead partner’s name. I had seen him first, face down, blood splattered everywhere, hand still clutching that pistol. It was an image that followed me around, that required no prompting.
“I don’t have time to beat around. I’m in trouble, and I need your help.” She looked at me again, and it was only then that I noticed the gleam in her eye, not just intense and seductive, but scared, frightened, alone. I took another sip of whisky.
“I can’t talk here. It’s not safe.” She said, glancing quickly over her shoulder. The place was packed so it was hard to see where she was looking.
“Paul’s bar? This place is the safest place in the world to be.” I said, raising my glass to toast the joint.
“Yes, to lose yourself, to drown your sorrows.” She turned away from me for the first time, as if composing herself, and then looked back again. She leaned forward, her lips inches away from my face, I could feel the warmth of her breath, the burn of her lips almost. “Meet me tomorrow, 8 o’clock, at this address.” She pressed a slip of paper into my hand. I turned my head to speak and for a second brushed her lips with mine. I pulled away, as though I had been electrocuted. She smiled, pressing her lips together. “Don’t be late.”
She stood and turned to leave, giving me a momentary glance over her exposed shoulder as she went.
“Hey there, I didn’t catch your name.” I called after her, wanting her to stay, even for a second longer.
She stopped and turned slowly around. Looking up at me, she smiled. “If you have to ask, you’re not doing a very good job, detective.” And with that, she turned and disappeared into the crowd of people, and out into the night.