Mr Thompson's Pub and Cabaret

It had been ages since Brendon had been nervous about a date. But then again, this wasn't just any date, and Vera wasn't just any girl. So when he pulled up to her apartment building and saw her waiting there, he had to wait a minute to calm himself down.

What the hell was his problem?

He opened his door and met up with her, and she looked up at him through a thick mass of red curls that were falling in her face, which she gracefully pushed away. "Just on time," she said, and he could see her perfect teeth through the darkness, showing off a smile that was just as flawless.

"Ready to go?" he asked, smiling back, because even in the streetlight of downtown Chicago did she look amazing.

"Ready as I'll ever be," she replied playfully, and he didn't sense the same hatred as he had a few days ago. But wherever it had vanished off to, he hoped it would stay there, because this was something he didn't want to take back.

He opened up the passenger's side of the door, his hand gliding across the smooth metal, and then gently touching the small of her back as she climbed inside, and he managed to catch a small glimpse of a blue dress with white polka dots from the light inside of the car. As he made his way to the drivers' side, he caught himself smiling, chucking lightly to himself. He already knew this was going to be an interesting night.

"So what's the plan?" Vera asked, looking towards him with a raised eyebrow.

"You'll see," he replied, pulling out of the parking lot and towards the city. He loved surprises, and nothing made him happier than the thought of surprising Vera. He wanted to use this as an opportunity to get to know her, to learn things about her people only assumed. He wanted to be the sort of guy that Vera Beau could depend on, or trust.

From the cabaret to her everyday appearance, there were things about Vera that were notably different, but then there were things that seemed to stay the same. Her lips were still coated in her famous lipstick, and her eyes decorated in her rich black eyeliner. But she wore more clothes than expected. You would think with the way Vera looked, and occasionally with the way she acted, she would show off a little more skin, but she didn't. Her dress fell a little below her knees, and although her shoulders were bare, the front of the dress dipping down into a modest sweetheart neckline.

Brendon was impressed.

"You clean up nicely," she said, smiling a little, running a hand through her hair, and a wave of sweet perfume danced in the air around him.

"Why thank you. I suppose you do, too," he teased, catching her faint reflection in the windshield in front of me.

Damn she was pretty.

They made small talk until he pulled up to a pizza joint about ten minutes away from Vera's apartment. "I hope you don't mind a little Italian food," Brendon said.

"Not at all," she replied, and he could hear her smiling. They both walked out of the car, and Vera's heels clicked against the sidewalk was they entered, a small bell hitting the top of the door.

She looked like she had just stepped out of a 1940's black and white movie, so glamorous and vintage. Flawless, again. It was like she didn't know how to live currently, but Brendon wouldn't have asked her otherwise.

We sat for a few minutes, and I smiled at her, before trying to think up some conversation, but Vera had beat me to it.

"It's been a while since I've been on a date. This is nice," she said, before being interrupted by a waiter placing drinks down on the table, saying he'd be back to get drink orders in a few minutes.

"Why is that?" Brendon asked, without really thinking. When he realized what he'd said, he decided it would be smart to elaborate. "I mean, I'm sure you get this a lot, but you're absolutely gorgeous, Vera. I just find it hard to believe that no guy would be interested."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I mean, I've been so focused on work for so long, and most of the guys I've been around lately are the ones at the cabaret, and well-you've seen how they are, so the chances of that happening are like, zero. And then you came along and showed me you were different."

Brendon laughed. "You're probably the first person to say that I'm different. To everyone else I keep hearing that I'm just like all the others."

Vera shook her head. "You're not. Really. And I'm sure that they'll come around and realize that eventually. And if not, they're obviously completely oblivious and are too stuck up to even think about it." Her lips turned up into a small smile and took a sip of her water. He returned the smile, and then his eyes trailed to her arm, and caught sight of a long scar running up the side. She must have caught him staring, because she gently pulled it down off of the table, and looked up towards Brendon hesitantly. "His name was Jason," she said quietly.

"Why...what happened?" Brendon asked, almost completely in disbelief because who would do that to her?

She sighed, and he knew she probably didn't want to talk about it, but he wasn't going to let her drop it. "He was a drunk. But he wasn't when we first met. I just had the sort of money that he could start. And he just, he took advantage of that. Along with a lot of other things. And he was a nasty drunk, and when I wouldn't go along with what he wanted me to, he'd get so pissed off, and take it out on me. He'd throw things and he'd hit, and eventually he snapped in public and someone called the police and he was arrested."

"Vera, I-"

She shook her head. "I didn't tell you for your sympathy. I told you because you asked," I reminded him.

"What do your parents think about this?" Brendon asked.

"Think about what?"

"Working at the cabaret. Do they like that you work there?" He wanted to find out if she really got kicked out of her house, but she didn't want to just flat out ask it. He'd just have to be subtle about it, because he didn't want her to know that at one point, he'd been a victim of listening to the endless Vera gossip.

"My parents? Of course. It was practically a dream come true for them. That's how they met," she responded.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah. My mom was a waitress, my dad a frequent customer. They may not have been proud of everything I've ever done, but they've always supported me.

"So you weren't kicked out of your house?" he asked and watched as her eyebrows furrowed together.

"No, of course not. Where'd you hear that?"

"I...I'd heard Jon talking about it."

"Bren, do me a favor. Please don't listen to what everyone says about me, because you're going to learn a lot of what they say isn't pretty."