“I have some conditions,” I say, as I start to follow him towards the door, past Marty at the cash register. If Marty is wondering where the tall serious man I’m usually with is, he certainly doesn’t show it.

“I’m all ears,” says Vince. I assume that’s his real name.

“I need to take a picture of you. To send to my friend so she can identify you, in case you do rape and murder me.”

He laughs. “Okay, but only if you get my good side.”

“Do you have a bad side?”

“Well yes, but it’s more of an internal thing.”

I hold my phone up and snap a picture of him as he raises his eyebrow, grinning. If that’s not his good side, I don’t think I can handle the better one. I close the camera app on my phone, put my phone in my bag, and nod.

“We good to go?”

“Lead the way.”

He opens the door for me, placing his hand ever so gently just above the small of my back as I pass in front of him. Instead of making my knees give out, it seems to give me more confidence, which is surprising. I have a feeling (and secretly hope) that it’s the fourth of many pleasant surprises tonight. The first is that this guy started talking to me, the second is that he invited me to have a drink, the third is that I am actually going with him.

“Have a good night, Marty.” He salutes him.

“Thanks for stealing my customer, you jerk.”

“I owe ya one.”

I wave to Marty and make an apologetic face from the sidewalk.

It’s still kind of warm, the sun hasn’t quite set yet, and there are plenty of people walking around. It doesn’t even occur to me that I don’t want to run into my ex or anyone from my around my building. All I can think about is how flipping glad I am that I put some effort into getting myself ready to leave my apartment tonight.

Ten minutes ago I didn’t think I was the kind of girl who went for a drink with a sexy tattooed stranger that she’d just met, but right now I am just putting one foot in front of the other and trusting that my twenty-seven year old life of being smart and safe isn’t about to end, it’s just going to get more interesting.

Vince walks in step with me. The two-inch space between us is both appropriate and filled with possibilities. I can see the front of Bitters, a block ahead, a few people milling about in front of it. I take a deep breath and a quick look over at this beautiful man who’s staring at me like I’m a pop quiz and he’s got all the answers. Oh lord, he is beautiful.

“So you walk by Bitters all the time but you’ve never been in before?”

“I’ve never really been to any bar in Brooklyn, actually.”

“Really?”

I laugh. “It’s weird, saying that out loud.”

“You new to the area?”

“Kind of.”

“When’d you move here?”

“Um. About three years ago.”

He laughs, then looks back at me and sees that I’m not joking. “Jesus. What the hell have you been doing with yourself?”

“Oh, I go to restaurants. Bar and grill type places. I mean, I did. With my fiancé. Ex-fiancé. He’s older, he wasn’t into the bar scene.”

For a split second, it’s like the shadow of a cloud passes over Vince’s gorgeous sexy face. He blinks and shakes his head. “Older ex-fiancé, huh? Now I think I know why you need a drink.” We reach the entrance to Bitters. He reaches for the door and leans in to me, so close I can feel his breath in my ear. “Welcome to Brooklyn, Nina. I hope I can show you the good time you deserve.” One wink as he leans away, and I have no doubt that he can, I just wonder if I’ll let him.

Bitters is not too big, not too small, not too crowded, and it greets us with dim lighting and the crooning of a bearded raspy-voiced guitar-playing singer-songwriter whose name I don’t remember, but I hear him from speakers all over Brooklyn. Maybe this is the summer I’ll learn the names of alternative singers and actually become cool enough to live here.

“Vince!” yells out the bartender. “You asshole—where’ve you been?”

Vince raises his hand in the air. “Everywhere!”

The bartender is cute and bearded and tattooed. He tosses a dishtowel over his shoulder and saunters over to the front of the bar. They clap hands, and Vince gestures for me to join him. “Nina, this is Denny. Denny, this is Nina’s first time through that door.”

“Hey there, Nina,” Denny grins. “Hope it won’t be your last.”

“It’ll be your last if you don’t watch it.” Vince points at Denny.

“Nice to meet you, Denny.”

Vince leans over the counter and says something in Denny’s ear. Denny looks me up and down, smiling. He nods, and lifts the flip-up counter for Vince.

“Take a seat, young lady,” Vince says to me. He nods at the two women at the bar who have been ogling him since we walked in, but shifts his attention right back to me. “One not-too-girly-not-too-fruity drink with an edge, coming right up.” He holds up a large glass.

“Just one?” I ask. “You aren’t going to join me?”

“I’m having a beer.”

I give him a stern look, the kind that my principal ex-fiancé gives students when they say the wrong thing.

“I’m not having a beer?”

“That’s another one of my conditions. You’re having what I’m having.”

He gives me a look that gives me the kind of buzz that makes me wonder if I even need alcohol anymore.

“I’m starting to wonder what I’ve gotten myself into here, Nina.”

“We’re on the same page, then.”

He smiles and shakes his head as he grabs one more of those large glasses.

“That’s a pretty big glass.”

“It’s a pretty big drink.”

He starts reaching for bottles on the wall behind the bar, and I’m not the only one who’s enjoying the view. The folk-rock song transitions seamlessly to a dreamy sexy techno instrumental ballad, and my body starts swaying a little, as if it comes to bars like this and sways to music all the time.

I consider sending a text to Marnie, to let her know where I am, but I don’t want to take my eyes off of Vince’s hands, as per our agreement. He watches me watch his hands, as he pours and measures and shakes and strains. The final product is blue, and the cherry garnish does absolutely nothing to make it look less devastating. He places both glasses on the counter in front of me.

“Hang on,” he says, “we’ll get a booth. Don’t drink it yet.”

“Uh, don’t worry about it.”

He doesn’t make eye contact with me again until he’s finished cleaning up, clapped hands with Denny, and come around to my side of the bar.

“We don’t have to pay for these?”

“Nah. That guy owes me so many favors I could drink here for free for the rest of my life.” He picks up the glasses and nods towards a booth. “Care to join me?”

“Those drinks look like they’ve got more than a bit of an edge.”

“Looks can be deceiving.” He gestures for me to slide into the booth, and sits down next to me. Our thighs and arms touch.

I look over at him through heavy eyelids. I may be giving him bedroom eyes, and I’m not even trying. It’s like my body has been waiting for this opportunity for years and it’s not going to let me screw this up by thinking all my usual thoughts.

“So what’d you make us?”

“It’s called an Adios Motherfucker.”

My hand immediately goes to my mouth to cover up an explosive laugh.

He raises his glass. “Bottoms up.”

“Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.” I clink glasses with him and take a sip from the two slim black straws. For a blue drink with at least six forms of alcohol in it, it tastes pretty innocuous. He watches me the whole time, removing the straws from his glass and drinking directly from it.

“Not bad, right?”

“Wow. Not too girly, not too fruity. Just the right amount of edge. Well done.”

“I aim to please.”

“I’ll bet you do.” Did I just say that out loud?!

He licks his lips and places his glass down on the table, resting his elbow on the edge and leaning languidly into it as he shifts his body towards mine. “I bet you do too.”

“Hah. Couple more of these and I might.”

“Oh I think one of these will be quite enough. Take your time. Enjoy it.”

“I will.” My lips find the tips of the straws again and I take my time and enjoy it while he studies me. Suddenly, I’m feeling self-conscious. I clear my throat. “So you used to work here?”

“Yeah. Few years back. Like, six years ago now, actually, when it first opened.”

“You a bartender somewhere else now?”

“Naw, I just worked here and some catering jobs. It was fun, but not really my calling.”

“What is your calling?”

He takes another sip of his Adios Motherfucker then drags his thumb back and forth under his lip. “Well, I guess you could say I’ve had a lot of callings. I was a bucket drummer, when I was still in high school.”

“No way.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Like in the subway?”

“Sometimes, sometimes around Union Square, occasionally Times Square, but street performers can be pretty territorial.”

“How’d you get into bucket drumming?”

“I knew a guy who was doing it and it looked cool. He showed me how it was done. We made a shit ton of money, you’d be surprised.”

I would not be surprised. If I saw him banging on anything I would drop all my cash in a jar in front of him.

“I was a handyman for a while, a house painter, a property manager, a DJ.”

“Like at parties?”

“Yeah, parties, raves. Then I became a salesman.”

Oh God, I bet he was a good salesman. “What did you sell?”

“Well first, I knew a guy who made a lot of money selling women’s shoes at Barneys.”

My jaw drops. “You sold women’s shoes at Barneys.”

“Yeah. You’re a size seven, right?”

“Yes. Why—do you have any size seven Manolo Blahniks leftover?”

“No, I was just trying to impress you with my ability to guess your shoe size. Impressed?”

“Totally.” That’s a lot of jobs. He can’t possibly be over thirty.

“I’m twenty-eight,” he says, as if reading my mind. “Case you were wondering.”

“Why have you had so many jobs?”

He shrugs. “Just wanted to see what they were like.”

I knew I wanted to be an elementary school teacher ever since I was in elementary school. It never even occurred to me to see what other jobs or lives were like. He fascinates me. Or maybe I just think he’s hot. Both. It’s both. He doesn’t ask me about my job history. I guess because this isn’t a date and he’s fine with just thinking I’m hot.

There’s a pause in conversation when we’re just smiling at each other, and the song that’s playing fills in the space with a slow sexy beat that makes me sway my shoulders and hips again. He lowers his chin and his nostrils flare the tiniest bit. I give myself a mental high-five for managing to hold his gaze until he finally looks away and takes another drink.

“So what else did you sell?”

“Cars. I worked at a luxury used car lot in Queens. Buddy of mine’s place. Only did that a few months, didn’t like it.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t get to hold very many women’s feet at that job. Didn’t see the point.”

“I would have let you hold my feet if I was buying a car.” Wow, this drink is more potent than I thought it was.

Vince laughs. “And I would have taken you for a nice long test drive.”

Wow. He did not miss a beat. Again, it doesn’t make me feel intimidated, it makes me feel better about myself. Still, I think it’s time I say “adios” to my Adios Motherchucker. There’s about a third of it left and if I finish it I might actually let him take me for a nice long test drive right here in the booth.

“Um. I’m just going to go to the ladies room for a minute. Excuse me.” Do not say you have to tinkle.

“Sure.”

He slides out of the booth and holds his hand out to help me up. He doesn’t step out of the way when he pulls me towards him. I stand with my face one inch from his neck, afraid that if I look up at him I’ll fall backwards, and then I realize he’s just making sure that I can stand on my own. “You okay to walk?” he asks, playfully.

“I’m pretty sure I’m okay to fly.”

He laughs. “You want your purse?” He picks up my purse and hands it to me.

“Oh. Yes I do, thanks.”

“The ladies room is back there past the bar.”

“Got it.”

I put one foot in front of the other and walk in what I’m pretty sure is a straight line, towards the bar. A couple of guys who are standing near the end of the bar step aside to let me pass through them, saying “hey” to me. I feel one of them put his hand on my elbow.

“You okay there?”

I guess I’m more wobbly than I thought.

“Yup. Thanks.”

“Thank you,” he says.

The ladies room has one stall, and thankfully it is empty. I pull out my phone to call my best friend and co-worker Marnie. Her kids should be in bed by now and she’s probably watching Netflix with her husband. She picks up on the second ring.

“Are you okay?”

“I might be a lot better than okay.”

“What?”

“Is Dave there? Can you talk?”

“Hang on, I’ll go to the kitchen.” I hear her tell her husband to pause what they’re watching and I hear him tell her to grab another beer and more chips. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! I’m at a bar with a guy that I just met at the liquor store and I think he wants to have sex with me.”

“Nina. Go home. Now. Alone.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re so sensitive and inexperienced. You’ve been attached to Russell for years, you need to detach from him for real, then attach yourself to yourself, preferably with a vibrator, and then you can start dating someone else.”

“But —”

“Do not have sex with strangers, Nina, you can’t handle it.”

“Okay but hear me out.”

“Are you in the ladies room now? Is there a window? Can you climb out of it? Do you need me to send Dave to come get you?”

“Just calm down.”

“Okay, but I’d kind of like an excuse to get him out of the house he’s driving me nuts.”

“Hang on. I’m sending you a picture.” I text her the photo of Vince. “I’m telling you, Marn. Things are happening. There’s something about this guy that I’m responding to on a level that I didn’t even know I had.” I look around to make sure I really am alone in this restroom, and lower my voice anyway. “My panties are flooded!”

Marnie snort-laughs.

“I’m serious! Like soaking wet—there might be something medically wrong with me. I’m losing a lot of fluids.”

“I think your body is celebrating because it never has to see Russell naked again.”

“Oh he looked just fine naked.”

“Oh my God you’re still defending him!”

“Did you get the picture yet?”

“Hold on.” There is a pause, and then I hear her suck in her breath. “Shhhhia LaBoeuf!” She’s an elementary school teacher too. “That’s the guy?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I just got pregnant. Which bar are you at? I’m leaving my husband and kids. I will have sex with this guy and test him out for you.”

“I mean. Maybe I should get to know him better? Ask him out to lunch tomorrow so we can talk more when I’m not drinking?”

“No way. You let that guy leave tonight you will never see him again. You should ride that beautiful man like a bull. Immediately.”

“So it’s okay for me to have a one-night stand with a stranger as long as he’s hot?”

“Hey, I didn’t invent double standards. That guy’s not going to murder you. He has beautiful sad eyes. You need to drink more and then take him to your place. Make him strip before you let him through the door, to make sure he doesn’t have a knife on him. But I am willing to bet he’s packing a long hard weapon in his pants.”

“Marnie!”

“What?! I’m serious. Why aren’t you having sex with him already?”

“I just want to keep a clear head for a bit and find out more about him.”

“What do you need to know about him? Does his penis work and does he have condoms? That’s all you need to know. You want to know what I found out tonight? I’m starting to get back fat. This is what you have to look forward to. You’re single now, go have a one-night stand before I have it for you.” She hangs up.

“Marn? Marnie?”

Marnie sends a text of a surprised mouth-open smiley face and a baguette and a donut. And then she sends a text that says zetywop, because she probably put her phone in her pocket without closing the messages app. It happens a lot.

I look at myself in the mirror, rip off a piece of paper towel and dab off the lip gloss, because I don’t want my shiny mouth to slide across Vince’s face if he actually tries to kiss me.

When I return from the ladies room, Vince gets up, steps out of the booth, eyes the guys at the end of the bar, and puts his hand on my hip, sending a shiver up my spine, while letting those guys know that he’s the only one here who will be putting his hand on me tonight. I am fine with that.

He lets me slide in, and even before I’ve settled myself into the booth next to him, he’s staring at my mouth and grinning. He’s noticed that I’ve removed the lip gloss and he knows what it means. This guy probably knows how to read all the signs. He’s probably seen all of the signs. All of the signs that say “yes please put your mouth on my mouth.”

His body is turned in towards me, protecting me from the other guys or keeping me from leaving, I don’t even care. I lean back against the wall, take in a deep, jittery breath, and push the Adios Motherfucker glass away from me.

“You had enough?”

“I think this motherflorker has done its job.”

He laughs—not as surprised as people usually are when they hear me use my faux-swear words for the first time. “Good. You feel better?”

I smile and nod. You have no idea.

He is still staring at my lips and smiling. It may be my imagination, but he seems to be leaning in closer to me, in slow motion, millimeter by excruciating millimeter.

“So, what exactly do you do now? For work, I mean.”

“Care to guess?”

“Please don’t make me guess.”

“I’ll give you a hint. I’m still in sales.”

“Oh shit.” I cover my mouth, because it has been years since I’ve said the word “shit” out loud. I will have to add a quarter to my swear jar. “If you’re a drug dealer I’m leaving.”

“I’m not a drug dealer. I don’t do drugs.”

His eyes tell me this is true. “Oh shit. Are you an escort? Are you going to charge me for this?” Two quarters in my swear jar.

“Charge you for what, exactly?” His gaze lazily travels from my eyes to my lips, down my neck and to a place that I’m pretty sure he can’t actually see unless he also has x-ray vision. He might have x-ray vision.

“Um.” My cheeks are burning up.

“I’m just messing with you.” He puts his hand on my arm and squeezes it quickly and gently before placing his hand back on the tabletop where I can see it. “You blush like a schoolgirl, I can’t help it. I really seem like an escort to you?”

“I guess I wouldn’t really know what an escort is like. And you don’t seem like a drug dealer to me either, FYI.”

“Good to know.”

“So what do you sell now?”

“Real estate. Commercial. Restaurants and bars are my specialty. I’m a broker.”

My mother is a residential realtor in Indiana. I don’t tell him this, because apparently we aren’t sharing that kind of information, but it makes him seem a little more familiar somehow.

“Yeah? How’d you get into that? Let me guess. You knew a guy.”

“I know a lot of guys. Comes in handy. You know any guys?”

“I know a lot of six-year old guys.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“I do get to eat a lot of birthday cake. So you knew a guy in real estate?”

“I knew a couple of guys. Enough about me.”

Right. It’s just one night. I don’t need to know where he works.

“You want to tell me why you felt the need to get drunk tonight?”

“Um…”

“Something to do with that lame ex who never took you to bars?”

“Something to do with that. Yeah. We just broke up.” I sigh. “I ate expired pasta and cookies all weekend. And I even had food that wasn’t expired, which was weird.”

“Livin’ on the edge, huh?”

“Guess so.”

“Feel good?”

“Almost.”

“We’ll have to see what I can do about that.” He winks at me, grinning, and I bet if someone asked me to recite the alphabet right now I wouldn’t be able to. “You want to forget about your ex, Nina?”

I cover my face with my hands. Thinking about myself and my ex and my intentions for getting drunk is making me feel insecure all of a sudden. I don’t know what I’m doing here.

“Hey.”

I feel his finger slowly trace a trail from the V between my index and middle fingers, down the back of my hand, to my wrist, along the scalloped-edge cuff of my blouse. It sends shockwaves through my body as if his finger is touching me somewhere else entirely. I spread my fingers apart so I can peek through them. Who are you? How did you do that? What are you doing to me?

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he says. “You don’t have to think about anything you don’t want to think about right now.”

I let my hands fall from my face and he takes my right hand in both of his, holding it gently with his big, slightly rough, capable hands. My left hand, shockingly, rests just above one of his knees.

I can feel him coaxing some hidden stray cat part of myself out of the shadows. He doesn’t make me feel safe so much as he makes me want to know what it feels like to not care about anything other than what he has to offer. I can see it in his eyes—he registers the exact moment that I’ve decided to sleep with him, even as I’m still processing it myself. 

Here’s a guy who knows more about the secret nooks and curves of my body than I do. I have no idea how a one-night stand works, but I am one hundred percent sure that he does, and I will follow his lead. His face is so close to mine. I am staring at his mouth and biting my lower lip. Un, deux, trois…fuck…

“So…what do you do after taking a lady you just met at a liquor store to a bar for one blue drink?”

“I can’t wait to show you.”

I tilt my head up the tiniest bit, and when his lips touch mine, I ease into him and this new person that I’m becoming with such a graceful force that it feels like the only stranger here is the girl I used to be.