A Chicago story
Diesel threw his head back, finishing the last of his drink in one gulp. He exhaled, set the glass down, and glared at his reflection in the mirror in front of him. He slapped his open palm hard against the bar and spun in his stool. "Hit me again, bar lady," he barked, eyes now fixed on the ceiling.
Shiloh shot him a look from the other side of the bar, hand on her hip. "What have I told you about calling me 'bar lady'?" she responded, walking over to him.
Diesel shrugged. "I dunno." He faced the bar again, resting his elbows against it with a smart-ass smirk. "Couldn't hear you over the jukebox."
She scoffed, swiping his empty glass and dumping it. "Don't you mean the breaking of your own heart?" she corrected. She grabbed the Coke pump and the bottle of Jack by the neck.
He denied it with a shake of his head, but didn't meet her eyes. Instead, he watched her pour his drink, telling her, "You're the only one breaking my heart here, Princess."
She smirked. "Why?" She nudged the glass towards his awaiting hand. "Because I won't pour you drinks for free when your girlfriend dumps your sorry ass?" The man a few chairs down from Diesel waved at her. "Another round?" she asked. The man nodded, so she grabbed two more pint glasses and headed for the tap.
"Because you won't go kick her ass and defend my honor," Diesel corrected.
"'Defend your honor'?" she asked over her shoulder as she filled each glass. "What did you do worth defending?"
"Not what she thinks," he muttered into his drink before taking a large swig. She raised her eyebrow, but walked away to give the man his drinks, keeping Diesel in her periphery. He ran a hand through his greasy hair and sighed, slumping in his stool. Her stomach churned. She was the one who trolled the bars with a thundercloud above her head after a breakup, not Diesel. The man thanked her with a wink to which she politely smiled and kept her cringe inside. She swiped the empty glasses from the counter and placed them in the bin under the bar.
"So, what did you do?" she asked on her way over to the register.
"Apparently, you," he said. Shiloh stopped dead in her tracks, jaw flapping open and shut. Her cheeks burned at the mere thought. She and Diesel? Sleeping together?
Only in her wildest dreams.
Diesel chuckled at her display of shock. "See, I laughed, which only made things worse. I should've done..." he paused, motioning at her with his free hand, "...whatever that was."
She scoffed, scrambling to regain her composure. "According to her, you already did," she clapped back. She turned back to the register and added the two drinks to the tab.
Diesel sighed. "Touché."
Shiloh gulped as she searched for the right ticket. Diesel was the most loyal person she knew. She may make whorish jokes about his love life, but no matter what girl he was burning through, he never cheated. She'd give him that. Once she finished, she turned around and stood across from him, arms splayed far apart on the bar. "You told her we're just friends, right?" she asked, heart skipping a beat. How she wished that were true.
He didn't meet her eyes. "Course, I did." He took a drink.
"She didn't believe you?"
He rolled his eyes. "Would I be here drowning my sorrows if she did?"
She shot him a look. "You shouldn't sass your bartender. If you're not careful, she might spike your Jack."
The corner of his lip twitched with a ghost of a smile. "If that's what it'll take for me to get lucky tonight, I'm willing to risk it."
She grimaced, while he laughed, heartily. "I walked right into that one," she muttered.
He lifted his drink, his grin reaching both ears for the first time all night. "I'm glad. I needed that." A shout erupted from one of the tables closest to the door, followed by a chorus of "ooh's" from all around the bar. A group of girls, all too drunk too early in the evening, began talking over each other. Diesel sat taller in his chair. "I smell a girlfight," he said, his blue eyes bright with excitement. "You better make some popcorn."
She groaned. "Don't encourage them, dude." A couple approached the bar and Shiloh greeted them and took their order. Diesel continued, oblivious to her departure.
Shiloh tried to pay attention to his monologue - something about Ronda Rousey and Amanda Nunes - but her thoughts wandered. It was nice to see a glimpse of his normal self. She was the resident pessimist that always needed cheering up. My, how the tables turn. Mixing the couples' drinks, she pondered the idea of calling his girlfriend - well, ex, now. Considering the state she left him in... she must've meant something more to him than just sex.
No way, she told herself as she poured all the ingredients into her shaker. Last time she got involved with one of his "girlfriends", it only made things worse. For both of them. She still can't go back to--
"Know what I mean?" Diesel interrupted her train of thought.
She looked up at him, pausing mid-shake. "Uh, yeah, sure."
An expression of mock-hurt adorned his face. "¿Me estás escuchando?"
She scoffed. "I'm trying, but-" she shook the container for emphasis, "-I've kinda got a job to do, Diesel." She poured the liquid into two martini glasses.
"Yeah," he agreed, gesturing to himself, "listen to me drown in self-pity."
Shiloh chuckled. "I know that's my job as your best friend-"
"Which you're terrible at, by the way," he interjected.
"-and I love feeding off your misery. But at this moment," she stabbed two olives with two toothpicks, "I'm a bartender, Diesel. And a busy one, at that. I don't have time to be your therapist, too."
"Then why are you pouring me liquid therapy?" he asked, lifting his drink and wiggling it in the air. Shiloh rolled her eyes, failing to hide a smile as she plopped the impaled olives in the waiting glasses. "Besides," he added as she served the cocktails, "you can't tell me you're not practically a psychologist by now. What with all the sob stories coming through here on a nightly basis."
"Yours included?" she asked.
"Obviously," he answered with a scoff. "Besides, mine should take priority. They are infinitely more interesting."
She glanced at the ceiling, pondering his answer. "...Touché." She turned and created a tab at the register as another shout erupted from the other side of the room. Shiloh glanced over just in time to see one of the girls shove another.
Diesel gasped, eyes alight. "Girlfight."
Shiloh, on the other hand, groaned. "You've gotta be kidding me." The two girls collided in a frenzy of manicured nails and hair. Shiloh threw her hands up, looking for the bouncer before poking her head into the kitchen. "Where the hell's Miles?" she shouted.
"Smoke break, boss," someone called back to her.
Her lip curled at the ear-splitting sound of chairs and table legs scraping against the floor. This isn't gonna be pretty. She turned to Diesel who as almost drooling at the sight. "Are you gonna break it up?"
"Hell, no," he answered, lifting his drink up to his salivating mouth. "I needed something to fantasize about when I get home tonight. This is perfect." She groaned once more. Guess I have to break it up myself, she decided. She ripped the towel off her shoulder and slapped it down on the bar. "I hope you're getting the popcorn," Diesel said, though his eyes never left the girls.
She ignored him, stomping out from behind the bar towards them. "Break it up!" she barked upon approach. But her demands were drowned out by the drunken group screaming behind them. A cacophony of please stop's and kick her ass's. The brunette shoved the redhead, giving Shiloh just enough space to step between them. She held up her hands and shot an ice-cold glare at the pusher. "That's enough."
The redhead - the one who got pushed - didn't think so. Unsteady on her feet, she turned on Shiloh, who glanced over in time to see the girl throw a left hook. She dodged the drunken swing, and countered with her own which landed square on the redhead's jaw.
The bar erupted with oooh's and other various shouts of excitement. Shiloh was pissed now, and everyone in there knew it. Blood boiling, she turned her scowl to the group of girls now cowering behind her. "All of you, get the fuck out of my bar!" she bellowed, pointing at the door. They scampered out and left their friend, still dazed from the blow, sprawled on the floor. Shiloh grabbed her by the bicep, pulled her to her feet, and dragged her to the door. "You forgot something." She pushed her outside into the arms of her friends and slammed the door in their faces.
Shiver's exploded with cheers. Shiloh huffed, turning around just as Miles ran up behind her. She looked up at him and shook out her sore hand. "Have a nice smoke break?" she asked, but didn't bother to hear the answer. She pointed at the fallen furniture. "Put all that back, ¿verdad?"
"Sorry, boss," he called after her. She retreated behind the bar, receiving high fives and pats on the shoulder the whole way.
She could feel Diesel's sapphire eyes boring into her. So, she grabbed two shot glasses, the bottle of Tito's, and filled them to the brim.
"Shiloh?"
She slid one of the shots into his open hand. "What, Diesel?"
"Marry me."
If she hadn't waited to take the shot, she would've choked. "Wow," she managed to spit out. "I didn't know you turned into a romantic when you're drunk."
"Oh, I'm not drunk. Just lonely." He wiggled his eyebrows then lifted his shot. "And that was really hot."
Her stomach flipped, and her eyebrows shot up. "Wow," she repeated as she clinked her glass against his, "that's high praise coming from you." They tapped their glasses against the bar before gulping them down. Then, they slammed the empty glasses upside down on the bar in unison.
"And, as a thank you," he continued after clearing his throat, "you should pour me too many of those so you can take advantage of me tonight."
She cackled, stacking the empty glasses and dropping them into the bus bin. "You are many things in this life, Diesel-"
"A sucker being one of them."
Shiloh reclaimed her towel and tossed it across her shoulder, "-but desperate, you are not."
Diesel raised an eyebrow. "Hooking up with you would be desperate?"
"For you?" She crossed her arms. "Very desperate. Practically a cry for help."
"Oh, Princess," he chastised, shaking his head at her. "You know better than to present me with such an enticing challenge. Especially so soon after getting dumped by my girlfriend who thought I was desperate enough to sleep with you." She scowled and snapped the towel at him. He raised his hands to protect himself, grinning all the while. "So, that's a no?"
She shook her head and answered through a laugh, "A hard no."
Diesel shrugged. "A swing and a miss. But that means you're missing out, too." He winked. "I'm a giver."
"I'll try to be strong," she replied, noticing Carlos appear in the corner of her eye. She grabbed the bus bin and handed it to him as Diesel got up from his stool.
"Well, as fun as this was, it's my turn to get in a fight now."
"Oh, yeah," she said, checking her watch. It was just past ten. "You're running late."
"Yeah, any later, and Blaze is gonna have mi bolas en un vicio," he said. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, but Shiloh stopped him.
"Don't worry about it," she said, jerking her head towards the front door. "I'll put them on their tabs. Call it a 'fighter's fee'."
Diesel paused before grinning at her. "Be careful, Princess. Keep talking dirty to me like that, and I might propose again." She fake gagged, pointing down her throat and earning a laugh. "You swinging by after?" he asked.
"Yeah, once Stella relieves me."
Diesel's eyes widened. "Oh, please get that on tape. I could use that tonight, too."
She wadded up her towel and chucked it at him. "You're disgusting!"
"Aw, man," he caught it and frowned, "0 for 2."
Speaking of the devil, Miles swung the front door swung open to reveal Stella. "Thank you, Miles," she drawled, squeezing his bicep and sauntering through with a wink. Upon seeing Diesel, her mischievous green eyes sparkled. "Hey, handsome!"
He matched her flirtatious energy as she approached. "Hola, mi guapa," he greeted, throwing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. Shiloh rolled her eyes in disgust, hardly resisting the urge to glare at them. "Shiloh was just telling me how you two-" he pointed between them, then held a hand against his chest, "-are gonna make a special video for me."
She gasped, gaping at him with a wide smile. "A sexy one?"
Diesel nodded, while Shiloh covered her face. "Stella, don't encourage him. You know better," she ordered, looking back up at both of them, who were grinning evilly at her. "And, Diesel, don't you have somewhere to be?"
He swore. "Right." He kissed the top of Stella's blonde head, then tossed the wadded towel back at Shiloh. "I'll be back for my video later!"
"Prepare for disappointment!" she yelled.
"I always do!" his answer trailed behind him as he rushed out.
Stella came behind the bar and shrugged off her jacket. "He seems awfully chipper for someone who just got royally dumped," she quipped. She straightened her crop top while winking at a guy down the bar who couldn't keep his eyes off her.
"Well, he saw a girlfight. Cheered him right up."
She gasped. "I missed a fight? When?"
"Just now; while Miles was on break, of course. And Diesel just sat there all drooling and useless, so I had to break it up myself."
"Oh," Stella drawled, crossing her arms with a knowing smirk, "so you're the reason he's all hot and bothered."
Shiloh scoffed. "Please. Apparently I'm the reason he got dumped."
"You're always the reason he gets dumped," Stella corrected, tossing her coat on the rack by the doorway. Then she leaned in closer to add, "'cause they all know you're the one he really wants."
Shiloh shook her head and bit her lip, cheeks burning. But Stella poked her in the side and moseyed towards her admirer before Shiloh could deny it. Stella always did that; drop bombshells and run off. She glared at her gorgeous friend as she flirted her way to a generous tip.
But, deep down, she always wondered if Stella was right. She wrung the towel in her hands, staring at the various couples throughout the bar. All standing too close, sharing kisses and secrets. Busying herself with clearing off the counter, she recalled that night at City Hall. Getting caught in that closet with their hands and lips all over each other. How he left her completely breathless and how completely... right it felt. And how she'd never wanted him to stop.
But that had just been a cover. A façade.
A swing and a miss.
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