Page 2 of Tall, Dark, and Grumpy

“I, uh.” I have no idea. Alcoholic ones.

I glance around for inspiration. Across the bar, there’s a group of women—all together, no one left out of the group, I note—drinking shots. One is a bit older, and the other three are all younger. The older woman has grey in her hair and is heavier around the middle, but still attractive. The younger women are full of confidence. A mother and daughters’ night out, I realise with a pang of jealousy.

It’s not that I don’t get on with my mother. I call her every week. We talk about scintillating topics like the weather, the health of my brother, and my dad’s bird watching. Sometimes she tells me about my aunt’s bunions, and I pretend to know what those are, because Ireallydon’t want to ask. Or know.

My interactions with my parents are more surface than hand cream. I wish I had a relationship like those women, who are laughing together. One of the younger women hugs the older woman tight and whispers something in her ear that makes the older woman smile.

“Those multi-coloured shots,” I say, pointing at the women. “I’ll have those.”

The barman looks unimpressed. “The rainbow flavoured vodka round.”

“Yep. Seems fun.” I am upbeat.

At least it’s deliberate this time. The vending machine had run out of normal, extra-safe condoms, so I bought the novelty selection.

Fruit flavoured. Neon coloured.

The plum one ispurple.

What man wants their dick to look like an eggplant emoji?

And this is why I’m single. I guess vegetables are as close as I’ll ever get.

Never mind, flavouredvodkawill be great. My housemates will think I’m cool, and include me in their jokes. They’ll give me the secret to attracting an experienced, hot man who will blow my mind and take my virginity. Using one of my emoji condoms.

The barman pours seven shots into little heavy-bottomed glasses and lines them up on the bar. Ooof. Okay. Seven shots for four of us. This is fine. One for me, and the other girls can take two each.

“Are you adding these to your tab?” the barman asks, and I nod.

“It’s wild to me that people don’t run off without paying their tab,” I say conversationally as he checks me against the photo driving licence I gave as a guarantee.

“Trust and consequences.” He shrugs. “It’s common in Blackwood-controlled parts of London. We’ve only been able to do it since the takeover, and haven’t had any trouble. Because who’d want to mess with a Blackwood?”

Well, it depends on what you mean by mess, because I wouldn’t mind getting messy with my boss. I also feel a silly glow of pride that he has increased security in his territory, but agree politely rather than over-share that Mr Blackwood is my boss.

I turn to the table where I left my housemates, but find it empty. Odd. It takes me a moment to scan around the bar to where the little dance floor of the bar has filled up… with three familiar girls in tight dresses.

Oh fiddlesticks. They didn’t wait for drinks and now they aren’t looking my way at all. How am I going to get the shots over in one journey? I can’t leave them unattended, as I’ve heard about girls having their drinks spiked in London and Blackwood territory or not, I’m not risking that.

“Are you going to do all those shots?” a voice asks from behind me.

I swing around to find a man who was on the other side of the bar looking me up and down, lingering on the neckline of my dress where my breasts are far more on show than usual. He’s not even subtle and his regard is like a cheap plastic raincoat on my bare skin.

He has light-brown hair and is wearing a white shirt that doesn’t fit him somehow, and has creases in odd places as though it’s just out of a packet. Well. I say man. I suppose he has been through puberty, but he’s not a man like Mr Blackwood is a man. He’s shiny, thin, and new where Mr Blackwood is solid, rough, and life-worn.

And while I said my aim for tonight was to sleep with someone, I instantly know this man is not it. I prefer the idea of a more experienced man. Taller. Bright blue eyes. Darker hair.

Gah, I’m thinking of my boss,again.

“I’m sharing them.” I hop up onto a stool. “My friend will be over in a minute.”

“Mind if I join you? I wasn’t having any luck getting the barman’s attention over there, but I think you might be my lucky charm.” The man smiles and it’s so oily you could fry eggs with him.

I glance over at my housemates, who are dancing with some other young men now. The dolphin man lounges at the bar next to me, and out of the corner of my eye I can see him checking out my chunky thighs.

Ohhhh noo. I tug at the hem of my dress again, and wish I hadn’t listened when Julie said I should wear it.

The man edges closer, and I realise he’s going to speak to me again. Yanking my purse open, I pull out my phone.