Bulletproof in Black Like a Funeral

You’d think I’d be used to the flashing lights, bar fights, and drunken slurs by now, nope. They never get old. The club is only open on Friday and Saturday nights, which, of course, are when the mutes of Seattle decide to come out and talk about their problems at the bar. The music was blaring so loud I felt like my heart would come out of my chest.

Another shot of Patron for the guy with the brown jacket who’s hit on every girl that’s walked in his path, or the guy who has the clean cut look going, but is on his fifth beer.

My bets on the brown jacket guy.

“Aye, Miss! Can I get anoother on-one of these thingys!” Brown jacket shouted swinging the shot glass around like a checkered flag.

A deep sigh and I put down the bottle of Captain Morgan I was restocking and walked over to where he was on the other side of the bar.

“I think you’re cut off tonight sir” I said going for the shot glass in his hand.

“You can’t tell me what to do!”

His hands were flying in the air and I stopped listening after he called me a bitch. I just stood there letting him go on his drunken rampage. Well that was until the shot glass went flying at my head and this drunk had such bad aim it missed my head and shattered against the back wall of the bar.

“Are you fucking crazy!? Out! Now!’ I yelled at him.

“I’m not gonna go no-where ‘til I get my drink”

“And I told you. You’re cut off. Leave.”

With the bass up so high and my anger rising I felt like my head was about to explode and I was about ready to attack.

“I think the lady said its time to go” The deep voice startled me, but made me calm at the same time. The voice was strict and stern. Definitely a ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude.

I took a look from brown jacket to the face of a god. His face was sculpted to perfection. His eyes were like opal stones. The artwork that covered his neck and hands was beautiful. He had a strong build could be nothing less of 6’5 compared to my short frame of 5’4. The dress shirt he wore was rolled up at the sleeves and the top button was undone and his face, was no look of a god at the moment. His face was stiff and like stone. The hollow of his cheeks just made my eyes travel to his lips more. The perfect thin lines that I’ve dreamed so many times of kissing.

Oliver Drakos was his name. A beautiful soul stuck in a hatred world. The hatred world of guns, drugs, money, and girls. All because of a little gambling problem his father had. The problem that ended up getting his father killed and now a personal leader in my fathers mafia. The Argyros Mafia of Seattle.

My father took Oliver in when he saw that he had no where to go and was lost, but he saw potential in him. When my dad heard about the death of Mr. Drakos, he decided to help Oliver get on track since he was eighteen with no where to go.

Oliver and I have never really been close. He works for my dad and I’ve tried to stay my distance from him, not getting in the way. It is difficult though considering Oliver is the manager of the club, and has earned his ranking as my father’s right hand man. To run the mafia is more of a man's job than a ladies, so I kindly told my father I would not take on the family business.

Oliver Drakos was all kinds of temptation wrapped up in too tight dress pants and with too many personal demons hidden in those dark, blue eyes. He was every girl’s bad boy fantasy, with an edge that made his just sharp enough to be hard to handle. And boy, oh boy, did I want to handle him in every way possible.
The trouble was that I was supposed to be making better decisions and walking a clean and narrow path. Unfortunately-or fortunately, depending on who was looking at the situation-it was a two-against-one battle. With my brain coming up short and my body and heart repeatedly overruling my better judgment.

“Iris? Hey you okay?” a hand was placed against my shoulder, raising goosebumps. It suddenly felt like a thousand degrees in the room.

I turned my head and those opal eyes were looking into mine and I think I saw worry in them for a split second.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just a drunk idiot. What else do you expect on a Saturday night. ha ha” I nervously shook it off like having glass thrown at my head was perfectly okay.

“Do you need me to have a talk with him or have one of the bouncers take him out back?” I laughed, his face was serious.

“Oliver! Oh God! No! I’m fine. Just a stressful night. He’s just a drunk who’s not worth it.”

“Anyone that tries to hurt you is worth it” and with that he turned around and the burning sensation on my shoulder was gone and I watched him disappear through the crowd of people.

I stood there with my mouth hanging open.

Did that just happen.