The Death of an Angel - 3. Two Rebels

It took four weeks to find a small rent controlled apartment in the heart of Chinatown. The job I’d managed to acquire wasn’t much better, working third shift moving boxes for a seafood supplier. At least Dominic had the sense to put some money in my pocket after I blacked out so that I wasn’t completely destitute when I got down here.

Finding a place in Chinatown gave me two advantages. The first being that it was near the river and a decent park so I had a place to go to relax, and the second being that I was close to downtown and the bar where James worked.

That bar, the Emerald Loop, was where I was headed now. Having started to get settled meant that I should start the process of gaining his friendship. I can’t protect him from afar, after all.

Getting off the subway at State and Lake I quickly walked the block to the bar. Finding a traditional Irish pub in the heart of the business district might surprise some people, but having never been to a bar before, it was simply another place to be. Hell I’d never had alcohol before and was starting to think I was in over my head.

It wasn’t hard to spot James the moment I walked in. The photo, although recent, could not do him justice. He was taller than I’d imagined, wiry, and had an ass that I’m pretty sure could stop traffic. The man was easily a 12 on any ten point scale. Look at me, getting all caught up on him and I don’t even know if he’s gay. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I was gay.

Deciding it would be best to observe him from a distance I found a seat at a table along the windows. From here I could look out over the sidewalk, the hotel across the street, and if I craned my head just right I could see the river. It didn’t hurt that the reflections from the bar in the glass would make it easier to observe undetected.

“What can I get ya?” She was obviously the waitress. Average height, brunette, and with a slight southern drawl.

“Uh…. What’s good?” I sounded like an idiot.

“The food, the drinks,” she paused, winking, “the bartender.”

Crimson would have been too light a shade to describe the color that filled my cheeks. I grabbed a menu as she chuckled at me and ordered the first thing that caught my eye. “Fish and chips, and…” scanning the list of drinks “Tequila Sunrise.”

“You sure, hon? He likes to make ‘um strong.”

“Yes.” I wanted her to go away. I wanted to go away.

The food arrived in short order and upon first bite was every bit as delicious as the waitress implied. The drink showed up at about the same time and filled me with a warmth I’d never known.

I spent the rest of the night watching him work and nursing that drink. He was so graceful, quick, relaxed. When he would laugh the whole bar would resonate with the strength of his rich voice. It wasn’t hard to smile at him, and toward the end of the night I could have sworn he’d caught me looking and smiled at me.

How I made it home is a miracle to me. The last thing I remember was ordering that second drink. God was it awful. Whoever thought of a Jager bomb should be drawn and quartered. I’m pretty sure that was the reason for this pounding in my head.

Climbing out of bed and making sure I had all of my possessions I found my phone with one message waiting.

“Hope you don’t mind, had to get you home. Next time, I’m cutting you off early. –James”

I about fainted.