Brutally Beautiful(4)

The cozy warmth of the bar was the first thing I noticed, the second was the sweet smells of cinnamon and vanilla. It was like a slutty Bed and Body store. The walls were painted a deep rich burgundy and the tables and chairs were a dark cherry wood. A long bar graced one whole side of the wall and a dimly lit stage decorated the backdrop.

Having never stepped foot in a strip joint before, Bree’s eyes widened as they scanned around the room, taking it all in. Me, I’d been to tons of them when I was younger, the result of being stuck around so many guys and never having many girlfriends to relax with. It didn’t faze me a bit.

Grabbing Bree’s hand, I pulled her to the bar and settled myself on a tall elegant stool, complete with velvet cushion. The stage was empty, and just a few patrons, a mixture of male and female, sat at tables, eating and drinking.

“Well, this stinks. I thought I was going to see some strange cooch climbing up some poles,” Bree chuckled, as she slid her body over a stool.

“Dancers don’t come on ‘til ten, love,” a deep voice called out from nowhere. Bree and I both looked at each other, and then scanned the bar for the person who belonged to the voice that answered us. We came up empty. Her eyes met back up with mine, wearing a furrowed brow.

“Wow. Impressive. Hairy McTittieBounce’s Bar has an invisible bartender,” I chuckled. “Well, Mr. Invisible Bartender, we need the strongest drink you can make.”

A head of thick sandy blond hair rose up from behind the bar in front of us, and the prettiest face you ever saw was attached to it, complete with a pair of clichéd baby blue eyes. No, not pretty, beautiful. Blah, like a damn Ken doll. God, men weren’t supposed to be that pretty. Handsome, yes. Pretty, no. But, this guy? This guy was beautiful.

It kind of made me want to roll my eyes and gag. I might have, if my face didn’t hurt so much.

The moment he laid eyes on us, the Ken doll’s eyebrows arched up to his hairline and he made a little strangled gasp-like sound. “Are…Are you okay?” he asked me. A light British accent tinted his words. Well, wasn’t that a bowl of yum. A beautiful man with an accent; it was going to be impossible to get Bree out of here.

I offered him my best smile, which caused one of the cuts on my lip to bleed again and he quickly handed me a wad of cocktail napkins. “Are you saying I don’t look okay?” I gasped in mock horror, and then tried for a wink with my less swollen eye. “What? Do I have something hanging from my nose?” I asked, laughing absurdly and patting my lip with the napkins he had offered.

I had to crack jokes and laugh at myself, because the reality of the situation was too much for me otherwise. Life is tough; you have to endure the bad with the good, because the alternative is so…final.

I will endure this.

Next to me, Bree put her head down, covered her head with her arms and giggled into the wood. The bright purple welt across her cheek was darkening by the minute and didn’t help her look any better.

The Ken doll paused to examine my face and reached out his hand, touching my chin lightly, while I tried not to flinch, “Well, it can’t be too bad if you’re both laughing about it, yeah? You need me to round up some boys and give somebody an arse kicking?” If my cheeks weren’t so discolored with bruises, he probably would have noticed the hot blush that surged right under my skin.

“Um, no. Thank you, though. Just a few drinks, okay? Anything that will numb all this puffy loveliness we got going on,” I said, slowly leaning my face away from his hand. Why in the world would a man think it would be comfortable for a woman to be touched when she looked as battered as I did?