The bar is small and dark, but this is exactly what Victoria is looking for right now. Her mother would simply die to know she is out here, drinking with strangers, eating grease-laden fries that someone prepared in a backroom kitchen. Someone has just turned on the jukebox. The song is loud, upbeat, and almost blaring.
Love is a burnin' thing,
And it makes a fiery ring
Bound by wild desire
I fell into a ring of fire.
The drink is strong and bitter, but she's determined to ignore the woes. It's just one night, after all. One night and then she's back to the humdrum woes of her regular schedule. Someone left a pen laying on the floor. Victoria swipes it and is idly scratching the design for a high couture gown onto a crumpled-up napkin.
It's a pretty design, something she's drawn again and again.
Victoria is certain, if she only had the right credentials, she could get someone to buy the design. Of course, that's just another source of her distress. The thought of her mother and their many arguments never fails to sour her stomach.
She ignores the fries in favor of downing another one of the small glasses. It makes her head spin, makes her tongue feel heavy.
Suddenly, a broad-shouldered man sits down across from her. Victoria blinks and gives him a foggy smile. “Hello. Can I help you?”
“I think that you can,” says the man. He has a heavy Irish brogue. A thick, red beard hangs from his chin. When he leans across the table, Victoria catches a strong whiff of whiskey and sweat. “You come here with someone?”
“No! Actually, I came here to get away from someone. Why ever do you ask?”
“Just wondering, doll. Say, who're you trying to get away from? A boyfriend?”
Victoria shakes her head. She's not used to being careful with whom she speaks to. Usually, her parents have to give the okay first. As such, even if the alcohol weren’t making her mind buzz and chirp, she wouldn't think to be careful. “My mother, actually. I'm so tired of her trying to rule my life!”
The man laughs. “Aren't we all? You can call me Richy.”
He holds out his hand. Victoria takes it, only to find herself pulled partway across the table. “Um, what are you doing?”
He grins at her, crooked and dark. “I just wanted to get a better look at your pretty face.”
“Please let go. You're starting to hurt me.” Victoria tries to pull back but she cannot. “I said let go!”
“I'm not doing anything wrong,” says Richy. “I'm just looking. Ain't nothing wrong with that. Why, I'd even be taking it as a compliment, if I were you.”
“Well you aren't, and I want you to let me go!”
“That's not happening,” says Richy, leaning that much closer. Their lips brush against each other. “You got a boyfriend lurking somewhere?”
“I…what?” Victoria pulls back as far as she can, taken aback, not just by the question but by this entire turn of events.
Richy repeats himself. “You got a boyfriend somewhere?”
“Yeah,” says a newcomer. “Actually, she does.”
He leans onto the table like he owns it, this picture-perfect look of rugged perfection. The stubble on his chin seems more purposeful than anything, and his untucked Raiders shirt has a certain charm about it Victoria cannot explain.
Richy groans. “Don't be a dick, Matt. I saw her first, all right?”
“She's not a piece of meat, Richy. You don't get to call dibs on her.” The man, Matt, holds out his hand. “Miss? Why don't you come join me at the counter?”
Victoria gives them both a wide-eyed sort of look. “Okay? I don't…that sounds fine.”
She stands and picks up her empty glass. Matt chuckles, hooks an arm around her waist, and leads her towards the front bar. He smells like motor oil and dollar store cologne, like he's spent too much time sitting around in someone else's smoke.
“Just up here?” she asks, even as she takes a seat.
“That's right,” says Matt, “just up here. You looked a little spooked by him. I hope you don't mind me stepping in.”
Victoria shakes her head. “No, not at all. I just wasn't sure what to do, really.”
“Richy likes to talk big, but he's mostly harmless,” assures Matt. “Here, why don't you let me buy you a drink?”
“He's been buying me drinks.”
“Then take one more, on me this time. Miss?”
“Tori,” she says, because she might be out here to get a taste of freedom, but she's smart enough to know it won't ever come should her true title get out.
Princesses don't get to have their own freedom, only that which is placed upon them by others.
“Tori.” The name rolls off his tongue like molten silver. It sounds right falling from those lips. “Well, you can call me Matt.”
“Matt. I like that name. It suits you.”
“Oh? How can you tell?”
“I just can,” laughs Victoria. “You look like a good person, and that's a good, strong name. Matt, like Matthew, like the apostle.”
Matt raises a brow. “You're a religious girl?”
“I'm the daughter of a religious girl,” says Victoria absently. “I don't know if I really believe it all myself.”
“Well, I can assure you,” Matt flashes her a blinding smile, “I'm nothing like your apostle.”
“Oh?”
He hums. “Nothing. Trust me on that.”
“You were helpful back there,” says Victoria.
Matt shakes his head. “Being a decent person doesn't mean you're a good person.”
“I think they're both the same thing. And trust me, I know when I'm around a decent person.”
“Like Richy?”
“I never said he was decent,” huffs Victoria. “I just didn't know what to say to him. It's called being caught off guard!”
“Oh, is that what you're going with?” Matt snickers and waves over the waitress, ordering them both another drink. “All right, I'll let you have that, if you tell me what you're doing out here.”
“I'm getting a drink?” Victoria gestures to the glass being clanked down in front of her, filled with a dark blue liquid and chunks of partially frozen fruit.
“No,” says Matt, “out here, in this part of town. You look more like you should be at the Ritz than out here.”
“Oh.” Victoria casts around, still half expecting her parents to come busting into the small building. She leans close to Matt and, in a hushed voice, says, “I'm running away.”
“Running away? From what?”
“My family,” says Victoria. “My mother, mostly. She's overbearing in a way that I cannot even begin to explain. I just want to get out of there for a little bit. I just want to be able to be myself.”
“I'd like to get to know that person,” says Matt with a low hum. “Someone who’s running away—you must have some pretty big shoes to fill at home.”
“You could say that.” Victoria gives a tittering, nervous laugh. She brushes her hair behind her ears, first the left one, then the right. Then, in a habit that she cannot ever hope to break, she untucks them. “I really just want to get away. I know I cannot vanish forever but...”
“But even a little bit of time is enough?”
“You sound like you understand.”
“I've got a few demons to be running from.”
Victoria sips down the last of her drink. She gives the waitress a small smile. “Could I have another one, please?”
“Of course, sweetheart. Give me just a moment. What about you, Matt? Should I keep them coming?” Meg nods at the still partially full bottle of beer.
Matt laughs. “Just keep us matched up tonight, Meg. I don't want to out-drink my little friend here.”
“That's sweet of you,” says Victoria. “It's hard to imagine someone as nice as you having problems.”
Matt laughs again, louder this time. He wraps an arm around Victoria's shoulders. “Baby, you wouldn't believe the problems I have.”
“Tell me?”
“You'd be here all night,” warns Matt.
Victoria says, “That's exactly what I was hoping to hear.”