He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes shining silver in the darkness, almost like a cat…
“You really don’t know anything, do you?” he murmured.
“I… I just… I don’t know why I came out here.”
Leather Jacket sighed, his gaze lowering. He seemed to silently deliberate for a minute before he raised his head.
“Are you going to kill me?” I blurted.
He laughed, looking more and more like a psychopathic underwear model the longer our encounter dragged on.
“Let’s give this a try,” he mused, combing his hand through my hair.
I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me, or if he was referring to what he planned to do with the blood-stained knife in his hand, but he grasped my face again, locking his gaze with mine. “Go back inside and forget what you saw out here,” he murmured, his voice washing over me in soothing waves. “This never happened, got it?”
“Yeah,” I whispered, “nothing happened.”
“Good girl,” Leather Jacket purred, letting me go. “Now, go back inside. It’s cold out.”
Slightly dazed, I turned and opened the door.
2
The sound of electronic beeping filled the air. I was back inside 8-bit, behind the bar where I started. Wait… That didn’t make any sense.
My vision focused on a chocolate cupcake with pink frosting and a single candle stuck in the top. The flame flickered back and forth as I blinked, shaking off the unwanted memory that I’d always assumed was of my parents’ death.
“Happy birthday, Scarlett.”
A pair of black-rimmed glasses and a messy crop of hair came into focus, and I smiled.
Holding the cake was Jackson, my flatmate, best friend, and professional gamer. He’d competed in tournaments all over the world and won big, too. He didn’t need a real world job because the prize money in those things was ridiculous. When I’d first moved to London three years ago, I answered his ad looking for someone to rent a room in his flat, and we’d been friends ever since. He was also the guy who used his gamer geek connections to hook me up with my job at 8-bit. It was the longest I’d ever stuck around for anything. The job and the friendship.
“Thanks,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ear.
I felt Jackson’s gaze linger on the scar that tore up the right side of my face and I shivered. It was a self-conscious day, then. They came and went, but birthdays were the worst. They reminded me of all the things I’d missed out on growing up.
“Are you okay?” Jackson asked, setting the cupcake onto the counter. “You seem little spaced out.”
The flame on the candle flickered back and forth and I smiled. “Yeah. Of course.”
“Then make a wish and fill those lungs to capacity.”
What did I want to wish for? Bringing my parents back from the dead was an obvious one, but necromancy wasn’t a thing, so I had to make do with asking the metaphoric universe for something more within the reach of normalcy. Besides, my tragic past didn’t make me a special snowflake—lots of people had problems, most of them bigger than mine.
Sucking in a deep breath, I blew out the candle. Smoke drifted upward from the glowing wick and I smirked. After twenty-something years of blowing out candles, I, more than anyone, knew what everyone else did. Wishes never came true.
“What did you wish for?” Jackson asked, pushing his unkempt crop of hair out of his eyes. It was a pointless manoeuvre because it just fell right back.
“If I tell you, it won’t come true,” I said playing along.
“C’mon, you can tell me,” he complained as the door opened and a customer walked in. Some guy with scary bleached blond tips in his hair. Very nineties. “I’m a universal safe zone. I negate the laws of physics.”
“Yeah, right,” I drawled, as the door opened again, letting in a tall, dark figure behind him, “and I’m Princess Peach.”
Jackson laughed as the sound of a dubstep remix of the Mario Odyssey theme song started over the speaker system. “This is more your jam, goth Princess Peach,” he quipped.
“Give me a pair of combat boots and a tube of black lipstick any day.” I winked and went to serve the new arrivals.
Blond Tips was sitting by himself at the end of the bar.
“What can I get for you?” I asked.
“Gin and tonic.” His eyes flashed silver like he was a cat lurking in the darkness.
I blinked and shook my head. “Yeah. Coming right up.”
Turning, I plucked a bottle of gin off the wall. Glancing at the guy in the reflection of the glass covering the LED display, our gazes crossed. A cold shiver ran down my spine and I quickly looked away, mixing his drink with a shaking hand. What was wrong with me? He wasn’t much to look at, but there was something about him that had me on edge. Maybe he was just one of those people who exuded a creepy vibe? Working in a bar, I saw all kinds, but in a place like 8-bit? We only got two kinds in here, and Blond Tips wasn’t one of them. My guess was he’d have one drink, realise this place served a niche market he wasn’t part of, then leave.
My attention shifted to the guy who’d come in after him. He was sitting in the corner, pretending to watch the LED display rotate while one eye was on the door. Probably waiting for his nerdy girlfriend. He stood out even more in his bad boy leather biker jacket, but at least he was easy on the eyes.
“What is this place?” Blond Tips asked as I set his drink down in front of him.
“We’re a gamer bar,” I replied, picking up a fluoro orange flyer from behind the counter and slapping it down in front of him. “Drink specials most nights. Arcades are pay as you go, and we can switch out notes for coins. Wednesday is anime screening night. Thursday is shooter co-ops
