#decentyet

It had been a long evening, even if it was technically the same length as all the others before it. In terms of the number of hours in a day, sure. Given her unusual clientele, Lance didn’t exactly keep the most normal of working hours, but there always came a point at which she had to clock out. Forcibly. With vodka, preferably.

The last thing she heard from her brother as his spectral nagging faded out of her ear was that this wasn’t a permanent solution to- was he going to say problems? It sure wasn’t “to the crossword puzzle” left unfinished on her desk. It wasn’t her favorite thing either, but not many other methods of drowning out the ghosts had proven effective. Sleeping pills just put her to sleep (does what it says on the tin), and she lost valuable waking hours. Meditation was a load of crap. Asking politely never worked. So until further notice, booze.

Lance sat in the back of the dive bar with one foot on the seat opposite her, humming lazily to the drone of a jukebox playing dated hits. She scrolled her phone, organizing her schedule- tomorrow she was going to the McDermott family home to see if she couldn’t find Linette’s jade necklace. “Ungrateful daughter in law took it when it was meant for someone else” was a weak reason to refuse to move on, but her stubborn soul refused to pass until it was settled. The detective scoffed and took another sip of her drink before looking up and catching sight of-

so maybe there were some perks to this job, after all.  besides the glorious lack of a nine-to-five schedule, and the fact that her home office meant pants weren’t always compulsory at the workplace, laying low like this meant drinks on the job.  a revolutionary tax write-off, as far as she was concerned.  plus, her mark  ( former mark, that was;  she’d dropped the offer on the second day of its existence )  wasn’t bad on the eyes.  he carried himself with an ease that might’ve been intimidating if not for the fact that she knew his name for the porn-star tragedy it was.  not that she had any room to talk.  they could all thank her foster family for that.

“ miserable?  i wouldn’t say that, ”     she said, sliding on to the stool he offered,     “ but if i did, i’d also say you make miserable work for you, so.. ”     with a shrug, she gestured to the bartender for a refill, her expression warmer than it would’ve been were she still keeping herself company.  there was no telling the rhyme or reason;  she supposed laying low undercover simply offered a break from..  everything.  from an apartment that always stunk of four-day-old takeout;  clicking through the same five channels on days when the tv remote decided to work;  and pretending that walking down the street, any street, didn’t make her feel sick to her stomach.  the alcohol, at least, took the edge off.  for a little while.     “ hey, look at you, mr. observatory!  yeah.  you can just..  it’s jess. ”

turning to face him, she confirmed what she’d known all along:  his eyes were prettier up close.     “ gotta pull you up on one thing, though, wade..  it’s not you i’ve been watching the past week. ”     it was her turn to slurp at her drink.     “  i mean, i have been watching you.  just..  more for recreational purposes.  the guy i’m supposed to be watching left tonight, like, a half hour ago. ”

This was fun. She felt like fun. Or perhaps it was more something akin to fresh air? All Wade knew was that the musty smell of the bar seemed to have dissipated when she moved closer. Leather, cigarettes and something sweet that he couldn’t quite pinpoint, that’s what she smelt like. Maybe the sweetness was whatever flavour her chapstick was. Whatever it may have been, it cut through the damp smell of the bar and straight to his senses. All five of ‘em. Some would say perhaps leather and cigarettes wasn’t something to be exactly intoxicated by, but Wade could apparently beg to differ. 

A gasp, brows raising and a feigned look of surprise was offered up, Wade’s hand coming to his chest to the vague area where his heart would be. “More for recreational purposes? Jess, if you’re using me to get your rocks off all you gotta’ do is ask.” Despite the rather vulgar words he’d thrown up between them, his eyes remained light and playful, appreciative that he could actually look into hers now, too. They were plain, but they were beautiful. Intriguing, really. He could feel the edges of his faked expression soften as his hand fell to his glass again as the corners of his lips seemed to fall, too. This time into something warmer, though there was still an air of cheekiness to them. “I’d even give you a good rate.” He winks. He’s preposterous and he knows it.

The glass meets his lips again, his mind briefly passes way too far ahead of himself, hoping he’d actually washed those dirty clothes that’d piled in the lounge room, or had he just moved them to another pile in his room? Shit. Had he cleaned out the rat trap on the fire escape? Or finally cleaned off that plate that had dried pasta stuck to it that was forever pushed into the ‘do tomorrow’ pile? Shit. Double shit. Fuck. If things went well here, he’d have to go to her apartment. Yup. Perfect. Wait, is that even where this was going? Wade you dumbass. 

 When  did  things  stop  being  coincidences  and  start  becoming  fate?  Was  there  a  specific  number?  Or,  perhaps  was  there  some  other  unspoken  stigma  as  to  where  the  line  in  the  sand  would  be  crossed  from  one  to  another?  Wade  didn’t  know  what  it  was,  but  he  hoped  the  brunette  across  the  bar  who’d  been  throwing  eyes  at  him  for  the  past  few  weeks  was  about  to  figure  it  out  with  him.  Wade  was  always  so  very  forward  about  what  it  was  that  he  wanted,  so  when  it  was  her  to  make  the  first  step  into  something  else,  his  heart  almost  flew  straight  out  his  ass. 

 “  Am  I  that  obviously  miserable?  ”  A  toothy  grin  offered  as  his  bar  stool  was  scooted  along  to  make  space  for  her,  grabbing  one  from  the  other  side  of  him  and  putting  it  down  in  the  vacant  spot.  He  had  to  wonder  though,  what  a  girl  like  her  was  doing  in  such  a  dead-beat,  rundown  bar  like  this.    A  crawling  cesspit  of  washed  up  mercs  with  about  as  much  as  they  had  teeth  in  their  head.  Though  it  wasn’t  like  she  stuck  out  like  a  sore  thumb,  quite  the  opposite  actually,   she  almost  blended  in  with  the  rest  of  them.  Almost.   Wade  wasn’t  always  the  most  observant  of  people,  sure.  He  would  be  the  very  first  to  admit  that,  but  he  did  notice  when  she  first  started  popping  up.  When  their  gazes  have  been  exchanged  from  across  the  bar  or  when  he’d  bump  her  back  with  his  elbow  trying  to  get  to  the  bathroom.  Whatever  it  was  couldn’t  be  called  a  coincidence  now,  could  it?