Can't Sleep in the City of Neon and Chrome
1.
Delaney downed the last of her champagne, having just made the first of two of the most important speeches of her life. The other wouldn't come until the next week, where she would be forced to stand in front of over 200 people, and talk of her oldest and dearest friend and the friendship they'd shared for so many years. Just the thought made her reach for the champagne bottle. She filled the flute with an eloquent ease and let the all-too-familiar, bubbly fluid tingle her throat. It was the good stuff, the kind with the beautiful golden flakes floating about inside. It made her feel a little indulgent, a little pampered, and Delaney enjoyed that. What ate away at her was her singledom. Her best friend of 16 years was getting married soon, and even she had to admit, he was quite the catch.
He had messy brown hair, highlighted with gold, and the coolest brown eyes she'd ever seen. His debonair smile left nothing to be desired, as it was warm, endearing and mischievous all at once. His lean, lanky body was toned in all the right places and every girl that set eyes on him always turned their heads to take a second glance. Delaney was sad to say that she had been one of those girls.
The very day she'd met him, she remembered seeing him walk through the door. At first, she hadn't cared, but something made her look up again and she noticed him. She really noticed him. She also noticed that her best friend was on his arm. Not that she minded in the least; he wasn't her type as she got to know him. He was rambunctious, adorably narcissistic and the apple of dear Avery's eye. He truly was her perfect mirror image. Even their narcissistic quality. It was only mild vanity though, nothing more. But still, she'd remembered loving the way his eyes had casually scanned the room. It left every girl wanting more, and Delaney still hated admitting she'd been one of them.
She continued to think about how great of a guy he was while the rest of the girls marvelled at Avery's presents. One by one, she picked up the packages and either tugged at the perfectly woven bow or pulled out the perfectly placed tissue paper. Something about the perfection of it all made Delaney reach for the bottle again, but a frown tugged at her lips as she realized there was barely enough for half a glass. She sighed and tossed the bottle in a now empty box lid and turned her attention to her friend. She began to soak in the essence that was her most trusted confidante.
Avery Williams was one of the most original, outspoken, brutally honest girls anybody would ever meet. Sitting near her gave you confidence, which was rather great for the morbidly suicidal. Or so Delaney liked to think. Her short espresso hair was provocatively messy; an interesting description, and yet very accurate. Her thick, brow-skimming bangs contrasted the pixie cut she'd sported for years and her big blue eyes shined in the dim lounge lighting. Her legs were crossed, a pair of patent orange stilettos covering her favoured purple tights. She was ambitious with her fashions as she was with her lifestyle. She never lived the same day twice and she made it a rule to always smile. When times got hard, she'd smile. When things went wrong, she smiled. When things were lost, she smiled. Nothing could make Avery pessimistic. And it was quite the mystery. Then again, such obscure mysteries fascinated many people, if not most.
Delaney's thoughts of accessorial intrigue were interrupted by a gentle chuckle and a tap on the shoulder.
"Laney? Laney?"
The last repetition of her nickname was sing-songed and there was only one person Delaney knew that ever did that. She smiled up at Avery. "Lovely gifts, hun. Think Alex will like them?"
She blushed at the mention of her fiancée's name and her best friend let out a snicker.
"You can't deny it; the boy wants to have his savage, beastly way with you!" Delaney propped her legs up onto the leather lounge sectional. "We're just around so often that he never gets the chance."
"Yeah, but in those slinky numbers, once he starts he'll never stop," one of our old college friends giggled.
We all began to laugh which earned an acknowledgement from the bartender, asking us if we'd like anything.
"Oh, yes. One sec." Avery stepped over my legs and walked over to the man, instructing him on what to bring. He nodded with a smile, which she returned, naturally, before walking back, a bounce in her step.
Delaney sighed. The bounce of a bride-to-be. A soon-to-be newlywed. A brand spankin' new call girl. Not that Avery had a problem with that; as long as she got her way.
She felt something being placed in her hand and looked up and smiled; an extraordinarily deceiving reflex she'd acquired years ago in grade school.
"Ladies," Avery began, raising her newly mixed shot in the air. "Here's to one of my last nights as a bachelorette. May you all continue to enjoy the New York nightlife, even after next week's festivities, which I assure you, are going to be amazing," she added quickly. The girls all giggled and downed their shots, either making faces, smiling in a tipsy manner or signalling the barkeep for another.
Delaney was neither here nor there. She drank it, smashed the glass on the table and got to her feet with the composure of a blatantly sober woman, which really didn't describe her at all. She could just handle her booze a little better than her topsy-turvy friends. Casually, she made her way to the bar going unnoticed by all, even Avery, who seemed to be instructing the girls on their day of pampering before the wedding. Delaney didn't care, for Avery would fill her in on time.
"One Manhattan, please."
The bartender spun on his heel, a glass and towel in his hands. He leaned into the bar, the fixtures highlighting his chiselled features. Delaney's heart skipped a beat as he smiled at her, putting down the now dry cup.
"Coming right up, miss."
She smiled, her weight pressed on her elbows as her eyes watched him move like clockwork. It took him all of about 45 seconds before the calming sound of glass against marble caused her lips to curl. She pressed the dressed up beverage to her lips and took a long sip, her eyes closing on command.
"Best one I've yet to taste," she commented, picking up a pretzel rod. She took a bite. "So you got stuck with the late shift..."
He nodded and smirked, more to himself than anyone else. "I don't mind it too much. I get a great view of the sunrise." His eyes looked up from the seltzer bottle he was refilling to look at Delaney for a moment. "Among other things."
Of course, Delaney wasn't stupid. She knew exactly what he had meant and she intended on pressing further on into the matter. "These 'things', there must be dozens of them, huh?"
"I suppose, possibly hundreds. But most of them are all the same." He smiled again, going along with her little game of cat and mouse. "Then again, not all of them are just like the others."
"Oh?"
He shook his head, slipping a napkin to a gentleman on the other side of the bar. "When I'm lucky - if I'm lucky - once every so often, something of greater appeal will catch my eye."
The glass was once again pressed to her lips, and a smile began to grow at the remark. "Did you get lucky tonight?"
"Not yet."
Delaney's face fell behind the glass, but she pretended not to be hurt by the response. It only showed weakness, and that was the one thing she'd learned that men thrived on. Especially the kind who go through women like socks.
"I mean, I haven't even said anything to my - thing."
Her eyes shot up to look at the man and she stuck out her hand. "Delaney. Delaney Newark."
He took her hand in his, the warmth from the alcohol and wet towels sending a chill through her body. "Adrian Baker. Nice to meet you."
"Right back atcha."
He grinned, pouring himself a Coke. "So do you think I got lucky tonight?" He popped a pretzel in his mouth and chewed slowly.
Delaney watched him, and waited for him to swallow, choosing her words very carefully. "I can definitely tell you that tonight, is not going to be like any other night."
He leaned in close to her, his breath on her lips. She blinked, her green eyes watching him intently.
"Is that a promise?" he whispered.
Completely unaware of her surroundings, her mixed feelings for her best friend's fiancé, and her teetering blood alcohol level, Delaney just smiled and nodded before pressing her lips against the mixing maverick's.
He had messy brown hair, highlighted with gold, and the coolest brown eyes she'd ever seen. His debonair smile left nothing to be desired, as it was warm, endearing and mischievous all at once. His lean, lanky body was toned in all the right places and every girl that set eyes on him always turned their heads to take a second glance. Delaney was sad to say that she had been one of those girls.
The very day she'd met him, she remembered seeing him walk through the door. At first, she hadn't cared, but something made her look up again and she noticed him. She really noticed him. She also noticed that her best friend was on his arm. Not that she minded in the least; he wasn't her type as she got to know him. He was rambunctious, adorably narcissistic and the apple of dear Avery's eye. He truly was her perfect mirror image. Even their narcissistic quality. It was only mild vanity though, nothing more. But still, she'd remembered loving the way his eyes had casually scanned the room. It left every girl wanting more, and Delaney still hated admitting she'd been one of them.
She continued to think about how great of a guy he was while the rest of the girls marvelled at Avery's presents. One by one, she picked up the packages and either tugged at the perfectly woven bow or pulled out the perfectly placed tissue paper. Something about the perfection of it all made Delaney reach for the bottle again, but a frown tugged at her lips as she realized there was barely enough for half a glass. She sighed and tossed the bottle in a now empty box lid and turned her attention to her friend. She began to soak in the essence that was her most trusted confidante.
Avery Williams was one of the most original, outspoken, brutally honest girls anybody would ever meet. Sitting near her gave you confidence, which was rather great for the morbidly suicidal. Or so Delaney liked to think. Her short espresso hair was provocatively messy; an interesting description, and yet very accurate. Her thick, brow-skimming bangs contrasted the pixie cut she'd sported for years and her big blue eyes shined in the dim lounge lighting. Her legs were crossed, a pair of patent orange stilettos covering her favoured purple tights. She was ambitious with her fashions as she was with her lifestyle. She never lived the same day twice and she made it a rule to always smile. When times got hard, she'd smile. When things went wrong, she smiled. When things were lost, she smiled. Nothing could make Avery pessimistic. And it was quite the mystery. Then again, such obscure mysteries fascinated many people, if not most.
Delaney's thoughts of accessorial intrigue were interrupted by a gentle chuckle and a tap on the shoulder.
"Laney? Laney?"
The last repetition of her nickname was sing-songed and there was only one person Delaney knew that ever did that. She smiled up at Avery. "Lovely gifts, hun. Think Alex will like them?"
She blushed at the mention of her fiancée's name and her best friend let out a snicker.
"You can't deny it; the boy wants to have his savage, beastly way with you!" Delaney propped her legs up onto the leather lounge sectional. "We're just around so often that he never gets the chance."
"Yeah, but in those slinky numbers, once he starts he'll never stop," one of our old college friends giggled.
We all began to laugh which earned an acknowledgement from the bartender, asking us if we'd like anything.
"Oh, yes. One sec." Avery stepped over my legs and walked over to the man, instructing him on what to bring. He nodded with a smile, which she returned, naturally, before walking back, a bounce in her step.
Delaney sighed. The bounce of a bride-to-be. A soon-to-be newlywed. A brand spankin' new call girl. Not that Avery had a problem with that; as long as she got her way.
She felt something being placed in her hand and looked up and smiled; an extraordinarily deceiving reflex she'd acquired years ago in grade school.
"Ladies," Avery began, raising her newly mixed shot in the air. "Here's to one of my last nights as a bachelorette. May you all continue to enjoy the New York nightlife, even after next week's festivities, which I assure you, are going to be amazing," she added quickly. The girls all giggled and downed their shots, either making faces, smiling in a tipsy manner or signalling the barkeep for another.
Delaney was neither here nor there. She drank it, smashed the glass on the table and got to her feet with the composure of a blatantly sober woman, which really didn't describe her at all. She could just handle her booze a little better than her topsy-turvy friends. Casually, she made her way to the bar going unnoticed by all, even Avery, who seemed to be instructing the girls on their day of pampering before the wedding. Delaney didn't care, for Avery would fill her in on time.
"One Manhattan, please."
The bartender spun on his heel, a glass and towel in his hands. He leaned into the bar, the fixtures highlighting his chiselled features. Delaney's heart skipped a beat as he smiled at her, putting down the now dry cup.
"Coming right up, miss."
She smiled, her weight pressed on her elbows as her eyes watched him move like clockwork. It took him all of about 45 seconds before the calming sound of glass against marble caused her lips to curl. She pressed the dressed up beverage to her lips and took a long sip, her eyes closing on command.
"Best one I've yet to taste," she commented, picking up a pretzel rod. She took a bite. "So you got stuck with the late shift..."
He nodded and smirked, more to himself than anyone else. "I don't mind it too much. I get a great view of the sunrise." His eyes looked up from the seltzer bottle he was refilling to look at Delaney for a moment. "Among other things."
Of course, Delaney wasn't stupid. She knew exactly what he had meant and she intended on pressing further on into the matter. "These 'things', there must be dozens of them, huh?"
"I suppose, possibly hundreds. But most of them are all the same." He smiled again, going along with her little game of cat and mouse. "Then again, not all of them are just like the others."
"Oh?"
He shook his head, slipping a napkin to a gentleman on the other side of the bar. "When I'm lucky - if I'm lucky - once every so often, something of greater appeal will catch my eye."
The glass was once again pressed to her lips, and a smile began to grow at the remark. "Did you get lucky tonight?"
"Not yet."
Delaney's face fell behind the glass, but she pretended not to be hurt by the response. It only showed weakness, and that was the one thing she'd learned that men thrived on. Especially the kind who go through women like socks.
"I mean, I haven't even said anything to my - thing."
Her eyes shot up to look at the man and she stuck out her hand. "Delaney. Delaney Newark."
He took her hand in his, the warmth from the alcohol and wet towels sending a chill through her body. "Adrian Baker. Nice to meet you."
"Right back atcha."
He grinned, pouring himself a Coke. "So do you think I got lucky tonight?" He popped a pretzel in his mouth and chewed slowly.
Delaney watched him, and waited for him to swallow, choosing her words very carefully. "I can definitely tell you that tonight, is not going to be like any other night."
He leaned in close to her, his breath on her lips. She blinked, her green eyes watching him intently.
"Is that a promise?" he whispered.
Completely unaware of her surroundings, her mixed feelings for her best friend's fiancé, and her teetering blood alcohol level, Delaney just smiled and nodded before pressing her lips against the mixing maverick's.
♠ ♠ ♠
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