When we arrived in town, the driver had let me out. I expected him to drop me at that bar. But once I got a look around, I didn’t see any bar called Crossroads. But what the hell? I was ready to try out any old bar, just for the sake of getting a buzz on.
That’s when I heard the music kick in. Is that Queen’s ‘Don’t Stop Me Now?’ I thought. OMG! That’s totally my jam! The music was pounding from a building across the street.It was newer, compared to the ones next to it, but it was designed to look old and nostalgic, a Roaring Twenties kind of look.
Based on the music pounding inside, it wasdecided - this was a bar, and good enough for me!And in perfect synchronicity, the lyrics rang out: ‘Tonight, I’m gonna have myself a real good time— Yes, yes I am—’
Queen, how did you know?
Maybe this is Crossroads? I mused. There was no sign on the place, but the location was, well... a crossroads. A couple people my age entered, so it looked like I was in with the right crowd.
I opened the door and stepped in. It was still early, but there was already a decent crowd. In a few hours, I could tell it would be jam-packed.
‘So don’t stop me now don’t stop me,
‘Cause I’m having a good time, having a good time—’
I swear, it’s like Freddie Mercury knew just what I needed.
I weaved through the crowd, hoping to blend in. I felt like an outsider, but I was determined to have a good time. Freddy M promised. I spied an opening at the bar, and slid myself inbetween two girls.
I opened my clutch and pulled out my credit card, as the bartender walked up, drying a pint glass. “Welcome to Crossroads. Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”
“Oh, thank goodness, I found the right place.”
“Yeah, that... I’ve been meaning to put up a sign... haven’t gotten around to it,” he said, with a kind smile. “I’m Conner.”
“I hear this is the best place in town for a drink.”
“You heard correctly! What’ll it be, lass?”
“Jack and Coke. With a lime, if you please.”
“So it shall be, then!” I found his declaration charming, if a bit over the top. He reminded me of Weylyn in that respect. “You’re in luck, I make the best bevvies in town.” With a mischievous grin, he slid my drink down the bar, straight into my hand. Not a single drop spilled. My mouth opened slightly, surprised. Because… I hadn’t even seen him mix it. It was like... well, it just materialized out of thin air. “Let me know what you think,” he said.
I take a sip. Perfection. Just the right Jack to Coke ratio, and icy cold. It tingled on my tongue, just as it should have. “This is good.” Then I noticed “Oh, but there’s no lime.”
Conner hovered his open palm six inches above my drink. He closed his hand, then splayed it open again. As he spread his fingers, a lime appeared on the edge of my glass. He gave me a wink and a devious chuckle. “On the house.” I stared at the conjured lime. That’s quite the sleight of hand. When I looked up – he was all the way down at the other end of the bar. How did he...?
I wondered if I should ask this Connor if he knew Orin, or Weylyn. It seemed the kind of place I might track down a local. And to be honest, I was crushing on both of them. Also feeling a little lonely for a familiar face. I could think of other parts I’d like to get familiar with, in fact. I sipped my drink and let my eyes adjust to the dim light. A sea of people were rocking out on the dance floor. All of them strangers, though. There was no sight of my Irish Beefcakes.
Suddenly, the crowd parted like the Red Sea. A big red-haired man crabbed around on the floor, chasing something shiny. The guy was a real ginger, and very tall, with gangly, awkward movements. His long limbs flung themselves every which way, and he was scrambling right in my direction. All of a sudden, he face-planted into the floor, tumbled toward me, and landed at my feet. As he stopped rolling, I heard a metallic clatter - presumably the shiny object he’d been chasing so desperately.
“Hel-lo there,” the man said. To my shoes. I raised an eyebrow and stared at him. He grabbed the object (a coin indeed, large and gold) and pulled himself to his feet. The process looked like an accordion unfolding. When he finished unfurling, I got an eyeful of a very tall, surprisingly gorgeous man.
His eyes raked over my body, taking in every little detail. Emeralds, I thought. His eyes are like perfect emeralds. Glittering, polished green gems, they caught the light with every turn of his head. His short, curly hair was a burnt orange that reminded me of the sunsets from back home. He had a loose green shirt, dark denim jeans, and a pair of dirty sneakers. Still, the way his clothes settled revealed a chassis that was very fit and muscular. He just didn’t have a clue how to dress. Or, he didn’t care.
“Um, hello? Hi?” I said, smiling awkwardly. I felt a little sensory rush, like a gust of warm wind. It was a curious sensation, more mental than physical, but not a feeling I particularly minded.
“I like your shoes,” the man said.
“Thanks?” My questioning inflection was something of an accident. “I’m Keira by the way.”
“Grand meeting you. I’m Keegan,” he responded, but he looked a bit distracted by something - the coin? My shoes?
