She hated coming into places like this alone. Becca’s parents lived in Schaumburg, so the girls would sometimes go out near their home so they could watch Jillian. It was Becca’s twenty-eighth birthday, and Angel had agreed to meet her at one of her favorite hangouts.
She turned back to her drink, trying desperately to keep her nose from wrinkling in disgust and silently praying that the man wouldn’t make a move. It had been a rough day, and this place, with its fast-talking men who thought they were God’s gift to women, wasn’t anything she really felt like dealing with.
Wine glass in hand, she looked around, taking in the details of her surroundings. It was dark; an array of black marble and mahogany hardwood floors, deep red upholstered furniture, and low lights. There were speakers along both sides of the room and opposite the entrance, a stage with a small dance floor directly in front of it. The music was loud and the talent was, well… marginal, at best. Angel didn’t understand it, but Becca loved this place, and it was her birthday after all. It’d been a while since she’d stretched her vocal cords, and she highly doubted that she’d imbibe as Becca would desire her to do today.
The shark at the end of the bar raised his chin in a nod at the same time as he lifted his glass. Ugh. Angel tried her best not to visibly grimace and simply let her lips smile slightly before she turned around in her chair, only to be faced with an array of the same from different sources. Some of them were attractive, she had to be honest, but it took a lot for her to look twice at a man these days. They were more work than they were worth. Her mind darted to the day in the paint store with longing. That would have been a man worth meeting.
Angel was aware that she was attractive, but she worked at it and didn’t take it for granted. She had been plain growing up, mostly because she had no mother to show her how to do make-up or take her shopping. Although Joe tried, what did he know about guiding his young daughter on her journey into womanhood?
She’d since made up for it in spades. Her skin was flawless, her nails perfectly manicured, wardrobe impeccably tasteful, yet, hinting at sexy, and hair and make-up meticulous in every detail. When she was working, it mattered, but when she was alone or at home, she didn’t think twice about her appearance.
Angel thumbed through the karaoke menu as she waited; opening to the page and artist where she knew Becca would gravitate. Her phone rang and she retrieved it from her purse, glancing at the faceplate as she did so. Darian.
“Hey, Darian.”
“Hi. I’d like to meet you for a drink tonight before the show. Can you do that? I have some ideas for promotion and wanted to talk to you about it.”
“Can’t we do that at the studio later? It’s my best friend’s birthday, and I’m meeting her tonight.”
“I see. Well, can I just meet you there? I won’t intrude long.”
“Umm…” Angel glanced around, not sure if Becca would be pissed at her boss crashing their girl’s night out or if the establishment was particularly the place for a business meeting. “It’s a karaoke bar out west, so I don’t think it would be a good place to talk. It will get loud in here soon.”
Darian laughed. “Karaoke! I didn’t take you for a singer, Angel.”
“Ha, ha.” She rolled her eyes at the jab. “I told you. It was Becca’s choice, not mine.”
“Look, I’ve had a hell of a day and wanted to unwind a little. I thought we’d kill two birds with one stone, and maybe I’ll even let you fly solo tonight.”
“Well, when you put it that way.” Angel smiled as Becca finally walked in the door, and she waved her over. “Okay. We’re at Red. It’s out by Woodfield Mall. Do you know where it is?”
“Sure do. Can I come now?”
“Okay. I only have a couple hours until I have to get home and change before the show, so the sooner the better.”
“I have to make one stop first and then I’ll be right out. You know rush-hour traffic though; it might take me a good hour.”
“No problem. See ya in a few.” Angel hung up the phone and hugged a smiling Becca in greeting. “Happy Birthday, you gorgeous bitch.”
The two women laughed together as Becca stole Angel’s drink from her hand and took a sip. “Looks like a tasty crowd tonight.” Becca turned toward the bartender. “Steve, can you send over a couple of Cosmopolitans and keep them coming?” She grabbed the music binder from the top of the bar and lead Angel toward a table near the front. Many of the tables were already filled with various men and women, some of whom Angel recognized from other times that they’d been there.
“No one hit on me while I was waiting, so maybe it’s better than average.”
“Hmmm,” Becca said as she pulled out a chair and sat down, watching Angel as she did. “Jesus, girl, you always make me look like such a slog. You had to wear Chanel?” Her eyes skirted over Angel’s fitted black suit and lime green blouse. The skirt was a few inches above the knee, the jacket angled in and ended just below the black leather belt that cinched in her waist below the flowing silk of the blouse.
“I came straight from work, and I had court today. I mean, look at this spinster hairdo!”
Becca was in jeans and a cute top, her long blonde hair tossed as she huffed at her friend. “Right, Angel. Is that why that sleaze at the bar is looking at you like he could eat you?”
Angel’s hair was in a loose knot at the top of her head, soft tendrils flowing around her face, a rosy blush rushing over her cheeks. “He’s harmless.”
“Agreed. Creepy fucker, though. But look, there’s your boyfriend,” Becca giggled, nodding in the direction of another table behind Angel. “He’s practically drooling.”
Angel smiled, already knowing that when she turned around she’d find someone completely opposite of anything she would normally be attracted to and probably downright offensive. It was a game they played often. She glanced over her shoulder, trying to keep a straight face to find a short, rotund man dressed in a business suit openly gaping at the two girls. His mouth was hanging open, and he was obviously taken with them both.
Angel bit her lip to keep the laugh from bursting out of her throat but couldn’t help a soft chuckle. She looked around, locating a tall, gangly man on the other side of the bar. He was keeping to himself, staring down into this glass, his head covered in a grotesque corkscrew comb over, he looked in his mid-fifties.
“So what?” She giggled. “He’s yours.” Angel’s hand was hidden by Becca’s body so she was able to point slightly in the man’s direction before she picked up the drink that the waitress brought over. Becca giggled and wrote down a song choice on one of the slips supplied in a pile on the table.
They were both in a fit of controlled laughter when the waitress brought their drinks. “So, Angel, will you sing for my birthday?”
Angel wrinkled her nose. “I haven’t picked up a real mic in over two years.” Her fingers played with the rim of her glass as she contemplated her past. It had been a great part of her life, but it was over. Her eyes lifted and she smiled. “I’m here to listen to you.”
“Eh, it’s like riding a bike. Maybe we can do a duet?” Becca’s eyebrows wagged and a smile split across her pretty face. “Besides, gotta give our boyfriends a show. Let ‘em know what they’re really missing.”
“Mmmm…” Angel shook her head at her friend’s silliness. “I forgot to tell you, Darian called and needs to talk to me about something for the show. He said it couldn’t wait, so he’s stopping in here for a one drink. I hope you don’t mind.”