Short Story (Part 1)

I'm sitting at a bar counter, drowning the stress of my work day with scotch on the rocks and a sax and piano in the background. Jazz and liquor. Just what I need after today. I pull out a cigarette and light it.

I'm lost in my thoughts when a man, whom I've never seen in here before, rushes through the door, shaking off the rain from his leather coat. Business attire. Must have had a long day, too. He takes a look around the dimly lit room and makes his way over to the counter, stopping just three stools away. I see him eyeing me out of the corner of my eye. I grow stiff, trying to make it clear that tonight I am not in the mood. Just leave me to my drink and my music.

"Bud light, please," he says, settling into one of the stools. He turns his attention back to me. "You know, you too pretty to be smoking." He's grinning.

I cut my eye at him and take a puff. "Thanks." I turn back to my glass and take a sip.

"You're welcome." He's still smiling. "Rough day?"

"Mhmm." Another puff.

"You know, ugh, smoking is really bad--"

I turn towards him. "I don't mean to be rude, but I don't need you lecturing me. So drop it."

He smiles again. "I'm not. I just make it a point to keep one more human being from dying of lung cancer. You see, I lost my wife to it. She was a heavy smoker. Broke my heart. I wouldn't want that happening to anyone else."

I stare at him. The light complimented his deep brown skin. His eyes, big and brown, with long lashes. His smile enhanced by his dimples. Not to mention the small gap in his teeth. Mmmm, I thought. I need to get out of here.

I turn away and before I knew it he is standing next to me, not too close but close enough to hint at me the smell of his cologne. 

"Can I buy you another drink? Looks like that one is almost done."

I look up at him and he's still smiling. I look back at my half-empty glass and shake my head. "I'm good." I swallow what was left of it and stand up, placing my cigarette in the corner of my mouth and grabbing my jacket from the stool. "Hey, Johnny, put this on my tab, would you? I'll pay you tomorrow."

"No poetry tonight?" Johnny asks as he cleans a glass.

"Oh you're a poet?" the man asks me.

"She's amazing! You should hear her one night!"

I scowl at Johnny. "Oh, Johnny." I roll my eyes and toss my hair from under my coat. "See you tomorrow."

As I'm walking out, the man yells, "Hey, what about smoking? You gonna stop?"

I turn and look at him. Still smiling. Damn. "I'm not worried about dying. I'm just trying to live." 

I step out into the rain and shiver, pulling my umbrella up over my head. I look back at the bar door and shake my head. I take one last puff from the cigarette, throw it on the ground, and lightly press my foot against it.

"Damn," I say under my breath and flag down a taxi.