Robert Crane - Soulless

Scott laughed and looked back at Kat, who feigned a smile of amusement as she rested her face on her hands. “A little strong, huh?”

“It’s a little strong in the same way that compared to normal humans, we are a little strong.”

He picked up my drink and took a sip. “Not bad. It’ll probably take a little bit for you to get used to the flavor, that’s all.”

I wanted to tell him that the only way I could ever get used to the flavor would be to take a blowtorch to every taste bud in my head first, but I refrained. I stared down at the drink, looking at it like it was an adversary I was facing off with. “Acquired taste, huh?” I picked up my little kid’s glass, suddenly thinking it was a lot bigger now. I didn’t want to waste a lot of time on this, and it certainly didn’t bear sipping, prolonging my disgust for an hour or more, a little shot of revolting nastiness at a time.

I threw it back like I’d seen on TV, trying to ignore the strong, nearly gag-worthy reflex it caused as it passed my tongue and drained down my throat. I felt the ice on my lips, and that was good, the last lingering aftertaste of the liquor still remaining on the cubes. I set the glass down on the bar and shook my head, as though I could rid myself of the tang that was still on my tongue.

The bartender made his way over, and just as I was about to ask him to make my next round a water, he set another Whiskey Sour in front of me. I looked up at him, frozen, like I had gotten caught flashing him a fake ID, except this was much worse. “The gentleman down there sent you this.” I looked at the barman, and he lifted a pudgy finger to point to a man down the bar.

He had brown hair, spiked a little in front, with a thin face and intense eyes that caught my attention even from twenty feet away. He raised his glass to me and I could almost feel the ice cubes melt in mine as I picked it up and raised it in a silent toast across the distance between us. He took a drink of his and I took a deep sip of mine, taking care not to make the face that was struggling to get out, that mixture of putrid desire to spit and horror that drinking so vile a liquid was socially acceptable.

“Picked up an admirer, huh?” I turned back to Scott to find him with a second beer in front of him, and his words were drifting a bit as he talked, slurring. I looked past him at Kat, who was shaking her head as if to keep awake, not paying much attention to us.

“I guess.” I looked back to the man to find he had turned back to the bar, nursing his drink, attention focused on a soccer game on the screen in front of him. “Or maybe he just figured I was the only unattached woman in the bar.” I swiveled on my stool to look around and confirmed my suspicion; most of the people in the bar were plainly coupled up.

I looked to Scott and frowned. “Why didn’t he assume I was your girlfriend and send a drink to Kat?” Scott got a blank look, then hemmed and hawed. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter,” I said. He took a breath and lifted his second beer, draining it.

“Take it easy.” Kat leaned over, crossing Scott’s body to weigh in over the blaring music that filled the bar, now a classic 80s rock tune that had more metal than an orthodontic patient’s mouth. “You’re not going for a third, are you?”

“I’ve been drinking beer and wine with my family since I was like…thirteen,” Scott said, his words curling as he answered, his tongue sounding like it was getting heavy. “I can handle it.”

“Uh huh.” Kat looked from him to me, her eyes narrowed slightly. “How much does your family usually let you have?”

“One.” He swayed on the stool. “We’re social drinkers, not alcoholics.” He laughed, as though it were the funniest thing in the world.

She rolled her eyes and then whispered something in his ear. He straightened on his stool and turned to me. “I think we’re gonna turn in for the night.” He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and laid some on the bar. “You coming?”

I felt a flush of red as I imagined what Kat had said that got him to change direction so quickly. I didn’t want to be in the room next to them, certainly not for the next half-hour. “I think I’ll stay a little longer.”

He grinned, a goofy one. “Heh. Well, you might wanna stop after that one.” He pointed to my drink. “After all, if this is your first time drinking, you need to build up a tolerance.”

I felt a sway of my own in my head. “I’ll work on that.” I shot him a dazzling smile. “Have fun.”

Kat rolled her eyes at me but smiled, a weary look that I knew contained at least a grain of indulgence; her making an accommodation she normally might not have made when she was this tired, only for the purpose of getting him out of the bar before he became too trashed to walk.

As if to illustrate my point, Scott started to stand and his legs buckled. Kat caught him with an arm around his back and I could see her help him regain his balance, her meta strength enabling her to keep him upright. They walked to the door, her steering, him along for the ride. I chuckled under my breath and was dimly aware that the room had a gentle bob to it that could have been my head rocking back and forth. I knew that my best bet was to avoid drinking even one more drop of the suddenly much tastier drink in front of me.

When I turned back to the bar, I started because there was someone in the vacant seat to my left. He caught my eye, those intense blue eyes locked on mine, and he gave me a disarming smile that somehow got me to giggle, which came as a great shock to me. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I didn’t mean to be startled.” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, shaking my head that I’d said that. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect—”

“Do you mind some company?” He caught my gaze and held it, and his smile went beyond the realm of disarming and into charming. He was wearing a button-up shirt that was unbuttoned at the top, giving me a glimpse of the beginning of some well-defined chest muscles.

I caught my breath and it held for a minute before I could squeeze out my answer. “I don’t mind.”

“My name’s James. James Fries.” He held up his drink, a tall, clear glass with some sort of garnish being the only hint it wasn’t water, and took a leisurely sip, not breaking eye contact the whole time he was drinking. “And you are?”

“Sienna.” I thought about it for a second, remembering that my identification had a drastically different name on it than the one I’d grown up with. “Sienna Clarke.”

“What brings you to the mighty town of Owatonna, Sienna Clarke?” He leaned against the bar, the angle of his body making him look very cool, his laid back attitude drawing my interest.

I took another breath and caught a whiff of a musk, something that left me wanting to take another breath so I could smell it again. “I’m here for work.” I blinked a couple times and the room swayed pleasantly. “You?”

“The same.” He took a sip and I admired his lips as they caressed the glass. “What do you do for work?”

“I’m…” It took me a second to remember my cover story. After all, I wouldn’t have wanted him to think I was some sort of person with super strength and powers that defied reasonable explanation. “I’m with the FBI. I’m doing some…investigating.”

“Investigating. How mysterious.”

My hand found its way to my glass, which found its way to my lips for another sip. “I do like to keep a certain mystique about me.” This time it didn’t taste too bad. In fact, it was almost good. “Do you live around here, James?”

“No.” I watched the sweat drip from his glass, leaving little blotches, like inkblots on the napkin as the dark wood of the bar bled through. His hand swirled his glass, slow. “I live in Minneapolis. I’m here for work.”