We Don't Want to Ever Fall at All

When Jack first sees her, he's mesmerised.

She's serving at the bar, a full grin on her face as she hands a burly looking man another bottle of beer, taking a sip of her own drink as she laughs with him.

When they'd chosen this dive, in a dingy, damp, back alley in downtown LA, the last thing he had expected to see was her.

She stood out.
Everyone else in the bar was at least 20 years her senior, minus of course, him and his friends, but they didn't count - they weren't the regulars. She knew everyone else by name, greeting them when they entered or whistling for them to get home safe as they left.

He hadn't stopped staring for at least two hours, practically ignoring the rest of the group as he gazes, wondering if it's a good idea to go speak to her. He'd tried, a couple times to do it discretely but every time he'd approached the bar, someone else would beat him to it and he'd be served by her bearded colleague who looked less than impressed with Jack and his noisy party.

The night dies down but his friends don't, eager to move on to better clubs, with 'more chance of getting laid', as Danny so bluntly put it. Kurily himself had tried flirting with the woman but she'd shot him straight down with a laugh, telling him she didn't date rowdy douchebags who drank cheap beer.

Jack had laughed when Danny had come back with a pout and another demand to leave and decided that he was going to at least buy her a drink before the night was up, even if it was just to thank her for bursting Danny's bubble.

He went up, acting as confident as he could, smiling back as she offered him a grin when he stopped in front of her.

"What can I get you, hon?" She's definitely from around here, the tan on her skin not just a trick of the light and that perfect all-American smile just lighting up her face even more.

Jack stumbles, trying to think of something that will take her longer to fetch than a beer, so he can talk to her, his mind jumping with fancy cocktails he's not sure they even sell, "A cocktail. Whatever's your specialty."

She laughs, "Bill over there does our cocktails. He can do all that fancy bottle juggling and shit. I'll get him."

"No! No, um, Jaeger Bombs. Eight of them, and whatever you want."

She shoots him an odd look as she back tracks the few steps she'd taken before he'd yelled at her. It wasn't uncalled for - he'd give a wide birth to anyone who threw a fit if he tried to walk five feet in the opposite direction.
She sets up regardless, filling the pint glasses part of way with red bull and then fixing the right amount of shots with Jaeger.

"You know this is gonna be expensive, right?" She asks as she sets up the shot glasses to balance precariously on the edge of each pint glass, looking at him expectantly when she'd finished, "Whenever you're ready."

"What?"

"Well, I'm guessing these aren't all for you? You gonna call your friends over so I can get this done?"

He feels like he could blush but yells for everyone anyway, gesturing to the drink set up so he doesn't look like even more of an idiot.
Everyone gathers quickly and once they've all stopped bustling around, patting Jack on the back for the drinks, 'bar girl' flicks the first shot and they all watch as the rest fall like dominoes into a glass each.

They're all quick to grab one, coughing and spluttering as they swallow, Alex even looking slightly sick once his glass is back on the bar top.

They all flitter back to their corner, laughing and joking as Jack stays to foot the bill, smiling as the girl just gets herself a shot of vodka and tips her head back to drink it, "That'll be uh, $42.50."

"Here's $50, you can keep the change if you tell me your name."

She laughs, muttering smooth as she takes the bill, giving him his change back despite the pleading face, "My name's Mari, but you can keep the money."

"Mari. Pretty."

"And you are?"

"Uh, J-Jack, yeah."

"Well, J-Jack, you can sit here as long as you want but I've got other customers to serve, buddy."

Jack has never scuttled away so fast.

-----

He stays until closing time, sipping on a beer once every hour or so, just so he doesn't get kicked out for loitering.
Alex is passed out beside him, his responsibility to get back to the rented house they were staying in while they recorded the new album, after everyone else had gotten bored and left for the busier side of town.

His mind wanders for a minute and then suddenly she's in front of him, black hoody covering her once bare arms, that are crossed over her chest, her stance not matching her face as she offers him a calm smile.

"You and your buddy getting out of here or do I have to ask Bill to throw you out?" She's joking, thankfully, or at least he gathers from the smirk playing on her lips.

"We're going, yeah, sorry." Jack plonks the half drunk bottle on the nearest table.

"Need some help with him?" Mari gestures to Alex, who has taken to drooling on his leg as he snoozes, "I'm not one to judge, but I think he had a few too many tonight - I was considering cutting him off."

"Yeah, he doesn't know when to stop." He shakes his friend roughly until he comes too, muttering and mumbling as Jack and his new crush help him to stand.

"You live far? I could give you a ride." Mari offers as they help the drunken singer to stumble outside, leaning him against a wall as he whines about everything spinning, before he decides it's a good idea to vomit next to a dumpster.

"No, it's good. We'll get a cab. Thanks though." The last thing Jack wants is for Alex to throw up in her car and for her to hate him forever.

There's nothing worse than drunken vomit to ruin a first impression, even if you're not the one supplying it.

"Well, alright. Try and be safe, Jack."

She leaves with a nod, striding around the back of the club and out of sight as Jack watches on, chewing on his lip as he mentally berates himself for not even asking for her number.

"She was so hot, dude."

Jack can't refrain from slugging Alex in the arm to shut him up, before he drags him towards a main road to hail a cab.