Devil

It took less than twelve hours for Danny to call her. From the sound of his voice, she surmised that he had just woken up, and was probably very hungover.

She debated whether to answer the unfamiliar number as the rarely used generic ringtone jingled through her apartment, deciding to answer just before it would go to voicemail.

“Nebraska?” he asked hesitantly. She never said hello when she answered, and as so few people called her, she never really needed to. Phone calls were short and succinct, which she appreciated.

“Bored, Danny the DJ?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he replied.

“That sounds like a personal problem.”

“When can I see you?”

“Who said I want to see you?”

“You answered.”

“You called.” He had no response for that. She smirked as he thought for a moment, his labored breathing being the only sound.

“Please,” he entreated. His sudden vulnerability caught her off guard. She had always been planning to see him, but no one had ever sounded so desperate to see her before, even the hardcore junkies of the Kid’s magic drug knew how to keep the desperation to a minimum. She found it self-affirming.

“Tonight. Same corner as always.”

“What time?”

Nebraska knew she was taking a risk. But it was a good risk.

“Eight.” And with that, she hung up.
--
Danny the DJ was early. She had only just sat down at her usual perch, a rasberry vodka in hand, when he walked in. Finn looked at her suspiciously, and she shooed him away with a quick few flicks of her wrist. He complied, taking a bottle of tequila and his cell phone from the bar, then walked out of the club.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Danny pronounced as he plopped down next to her.

“Quel surprise,” she responded wryly, taking a sip of her drink. The club was mostly empty now that Finn had left. A few stragglers from earlier in the day remained, picking themselves up off of the black wooden floor, and leaving with bewildered glances around the club.

Nebraska didn’t say anything, but smirked at their leaving. The Warehouse sometimes stayed open during the day, at the discretion of the bartenders. Partygoers could leave work early and get wasted, or simply skip altogether and achieve the same result. It always seemed pointless to Nebraska, but she wasn’t one to turn away paying customers.

Her silence resulted in Danny’s own, and the two of them sat quietly at the bar. Without warning, he put his palm gently on her knee, moving to the edge of his stool to be closer to her.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured into her ear. She moved her hand to his chest to stop him getting any closer.

“You should fix that before it gets out of control,” she whispered, applying enough pressure on his chest to keep him at bay. “And if that’s all you came here for, I think you should leave.”

Danny’s hand moved further up her knee, to her thigh, as if he hadn’t heard her. For a moment, he was still. Then, with a sigh, he shifted back on the stool, and dropped £700 on the table.

“What does this buy me?”

“A weekend alone,” she smirked, taking a sip of her drink. She felt cold without him so close to her, and gently rubbed her arms to warm up. Danny laughed at her comment, figuring that it didn’t mean nearly what he wanted it to.

“How much for a weekend with you?”

“I don’t think you know what we do here.”

“What do you do here?”

Nebraska didn’t say anything, but turned her body slightly so she was almost facing him.

“Do you like being a DJ, Danny?” He shrugged.

“It pays the bills.”

“I’ll bet your girlfriend hates it.” Danny laughed again, causing Nebraska to roll her eyes as she took another sip of her drink.

“Now that’s not very subtle.”

“Shut up,” she murmured as she laughed into her drink, the sound of her sputtering the clear liquid into the glass breaking her usually bored façade.

The pair of them laughed at their respective ridiculousness, the sounds echoing across the empty warehouse.

“I like you, Nebraska,” Danny remarked.

“You don’t know me.”

“You don’t let me.” Nebraska turned her head to look at him. She felt almost as if it was the first time she was really seeing him.

“I’m not as interesting as I pretend to be,” she replied. “You’d get bored of me.”

“I doubt that.”

“I’m warning you.”

“Should have hung that warning on the door.” Danny smirked.

She thought that maybe he thought she didn’t notice him moving closer to her, but she definitely did. Taking a risk, she slid off of her stool and away from him, heading instead for the bar.

“Can I buy you a drink?” she murmured in a low tone. Danny laughed heartily.

“God, is that what I sound like?” It was Nebraska’s turn to laugh, a short intake of air, different from her laughs before. She hoped it sounded dismissive.

She reached behind the bar and pulled out a water bottle, setting it in front of Danny while sliding the money into the slot.

“What’s this?” he asked, turning the unmarked bottle over between his hands.

“Your weekend alone,” she responded. She set her glass down behind the bar, and began washing it in the small sink next to her.

“You’d have been a good bartender,” Danny announced, looking at her with his arms crossed. The bottle sat in front of him, close to where she had set it, almost like he was giving it back.

“Maybe I’d make a good DJ,” she joked. He smiled, and she reciprocated.

“It’s not that simple, you know.”

“I own a record player, isn’t that all you need?” Danny made a clucking sound with his teeth, and Nebraska laughed.

“You also need records,” he replied. Nebraska rolled her eyes, while Danny laughed.

"I own those."

"Good ones, I mean. Ones that people can dance to."

"People can dance to anything these days." Danny chuckled.

"Not in public."

"Do you dance in public?"

"Only with you."

"I doubt that's true."

"You wouldn't know."

The two looked at one another silently for a moment, while Nebraska dried her hands on a dishrag. Danny opened his mouth, as if to say something, but she cut him off.

“You should be getting on, Danny the DJ. No doubt you’ve had your fill of me.”

“That’s impossible,” he murmured, but grabbed the bottle off the marble countertop, and slid off his stool. Nebraska stayed behind the bar, creating a distance in which to not do anything stupid.

“Good night, then, Nebraska.”

“Good night, Danny. Enjoy your weekend.” She smiled widely, biting her lower lip. She saw Danny’s eyes drift to her mouth for a moment, before he grinned and walked out of the door.

Nebraska leaned against the countertop, sighing heavily. She was in way over her head with Danny, but didn’t know how to get out. Despite herself, she liked the persistent man. He had a sweetness to him she hadn’t seen in a long time.

The sound of the door slamming open startled her, and for a moment, she hoped Danny would walk through to the back of the club, but was surprised to see Finn there instead.

“Finnley,” she nodded at him, perplexed. Finnley was her nickname for him. Finn wasn’t short for anything, as far as she knew, but she liked the way it sounded, and he didn’t mind when she called him that. As a reciprocation, sometimes he called her by her full name, Nebraska Jones. He was the only one who did that, and she found she didn’t really mind.

He stormed into the back, his light blue eyes heated with anger.

“Why was he here?” he spit at her. Nebraska was taken aback. It wasn’t like Finn to be upset with her. She’d done some stupid things in the past, but he’d just brushed it off.

“What concern is it of yours?”

“What are you doing, Nebraska?”

“I’m not doing anything. He asked to meet, he bought something, he left.”

Finn sighed heavily, leaning against the marble countertop of the bar.

“Stay away from him,” he finally said.

“What’s wrong with him?”

Finn just looked at her. His point was clear. It wasn’t him, it was her.

“I’m going out,” she declared, grabbing her coat.

“Nebraska,” Finn sighed, sounding exasperated. She didn’t turn around.