Red or Blue?

“Buy me a drink?” she asked, one hand sliding to her hip, the other dangling a clutch like a weapon. Her red dress clung to her like temptation wrapped in regret… his regret. He'd struck a deal like this before. He didn’t look up at first. Just swirled his single malt whisky in slow, lazy circles.

“Depends,” he said finally, his voice smooth as the golden glow flickering from his glass. “What are you willing to do to earn it?”

Her fingers tightened around the clutch, as if his words had just slipped a hand inside her purse. “Excuse me?” she snapped, her voice doing what her purse wanted… swing first, ask questions later. “What exactly are you insinuating?”

He turned, a half-smile ghosting his lips, slow and unsure. He’d underestimated the dress and the way her hair moved through his periphery, like it already knew the shape of his pillow. “Not implying. Not insinuating. You asked for something I didn’t offer.” He leaned back in his chair, in the low light falling from above the bar. “An offer’s a gift. A request’s a favor… and it’s every man for himself and God for us all… in this world.” He licked his lips, his tongue directing them into a sarcastic smile, “If you’d just sat down and ordered a drink, I probably would’ve offered… you… in that dress, but you demanded something from me without knowing me or even assessing the situation.”

“I know who you are… I bet everyone in this bar does. I figured a cost of a drink would be nothing to someone like you.” she continued stepping forward as if to mark him with her scent… not too fruity or flowery, fresh, like a seductive rain.

“Everything has a price my dear… it’s the price you negotiate not the one you expect.” He replied.

She didn’t blink, slid onto the stool beside him, crossed her legs like a dare, and flagged the bartender with two fingers, freshly manicured. “Louie the 13th. Double. Neat.”

He turned his head slowly, one brow arched. “You know that’s a hundred-twenty a shot, right?”

She met his gaze, unmoved. “There you go assuming.” Her smile came slow not sweet, bitter without ice to kill the edge. “I’m paying for this.”

“Okay, Red…” he said, sipping his drink… like he was trying to taste the part of her she hadn’t shown him yet.

“Red?” she repeated, arching a brow, crossing her arms. “I have a name. You haven’t asked for it… even though I know yours.” The sting in her voice didn’t miss. Her arms tightened across the fabric of her dress, he’d reduced her to a color, and she wasn’t having it.

He shrugged, playful, but cautious now. “Names?” he echoed. “I like to know people. A name’s just what you call yourself. Tell me who you are… with three random details without giving me your name.” He leaned in slightly, a predator’s smirk, not hungry, but curious, like a big cat toying with prey it didn’t need to kill. He loved games like this, and she knew it… and tonight? It felt like she was doing the hunting.

“Okay… I’ll play your little game.” Red leaned in, her voice low, deliberate. “But first… you have to give me something. One random truth. Something you’ve never revealed in an interview.” She let the pause linger. “This game works both ways… like sixty-nine.” Her smile wasn’t innocent. It was a noose spun from silk. She was pulling him from the brush, watching him inch closer to the goat she’d tied, its string looped delicately around her pinky.

“So you negotiate, huh…” he said, tilting his glass, eyes narrowing. “Maybe a lawyer? They love to drink, I’ve met a few.” He let the words hang long enough for her to wonder if it was a guess… or a breadcrumb. “But I’m not ready to get to that part yet.” He moistened his lips, amused… like he’d missed something, but was catching up. “Let’s play. You called me out.”

She uncrossed her arms, grabbed her drink, and raised it in a slow toast. Her lips puckered, tasting the rim, like the burn was worth every dollar. “Well…” she said, her voice low and steady, “I’m waiting...”

“Excuse me… but this seat is taken,” a young woman interjected, eyes narrowing at him, clearly confused, he’d apparently given up her seat. She wore blue. Not tight, but professional… a different kind of power.

“Your lawyer?” Red said, not looking at her, only acknowledging him as if it were a statement, not a question. Then she turned and glanced at the woman in blue as if she challenged the legitimacy of her throne.

“Look at you…” he said, impressed, his smirk returning. “Please forgive me, Blue. Red and I need to finish our little negotiation.” He reached into his pocket and tossed the keys onto the bar. “Take the car. Just drop it off in the morning.”

“And how do you know you’re leaving with me?” Red shot back, her brow lifting, incredulous. In her mind, she controlled this game… not him.

“Now there you go assuming…” he said, voice low, not quite playful. “Is your name Uber?” He let the burn settle… deliberate as if he was the cognac, and she’d sipped too much, too soon. “I take care of my people,” he added, turning to Blue. “I’d rather she drive my car than send her home in a cab.” He gave blue a slow nod, casual and composed.

Blue smirked, sipping her power like it was aged wine. “You know what? I think I’ll have another drink… see how your game ends.” She motioned to the bartender. “Maybe he takes an Uber. Maybe he drives me home in his car.” A dirty martini slid across the bar. She caught it without looking. Two blue cheese-stuffed olives waited on the rim, like punctuation marks. She took a sip, as if her chapter was over, then walked to a seat at the other end of the bar; not retreating but anticipating the next sentence. A young, attractive, well-dressed man took the seat beside blue, offering a confident introduction.

Red noticed. “Why you looking over there?” she said, her voice cutting clean through the moment. “I’m here. I thought we were playing.” She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. She shifted his attention like a queen moves a knight: sideways, unexpected, but always forward. Then she tilted her glass, let the moment stretch. “I’m an atheist,” she said, cool and measured. “That’s your one freebie. Now it’s your turn.” His attention snapped back to her like a predator catching a fresh scent as if she’d thrown a little blood on the trail.

“Atheist?” he echoed, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “Me too… but somehow I think you already knew that.” He paused, the glass resting near his chin. “I don’t believe in religion, but that doesn’t mean I don’t believe in a Creator.” He leaned in, the space between them tightening like a trap with no trigger. “I believe in a spiritual plane… something built from the energy we project and feed into the Universe.” he continued, not understanding what he was getting closer to.

“That’s why it was a freebie…” Red said, her voice like velvet laced with poison frosting. “Because you already knew.” She scooted in her chair, tossed her hair to the side, the movement smooth like she was combing it to perfection, “Now tell me something I don’t know.” She didn’t blink, her conviction swelled as she caught the flicker of hesitation on Blue’s face, a sideways glance that spoke louder than words.

“I’m secretly gay…” he said… fast, like outdrawing her in a shootout.

Red snapped back, her body recoiling as if she’d touched an open flame. Then came her knowing smirk; like the sunrise through smoke. “You know you shouldn’t play with strangers like that…” she said, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you know how fast that shit goes viral?”

He smiled like a proud father watching a child learn the game. “I don’t give a fuck what other people think.” His voice didn’t rise, it settled deep, like he took a drag from a joint. “I wouldn’t have made it this far if that were the case. Besides, I had faith in you.” He leaned back, savoring the last sip of his whiskey as if it were a consolation prize. “I knew you’d see through the line. Now it’s your turn.” His smile widened, like he’d just checkmated her with a pawn.

“I don’t suck dick…” she said, trying to keep pace. His eyes crossed… just for a moment like he was recovering from an unexpected haymaker. She saw it and knew she had him.

Then he burst into laughter; uncontrolled, real, and when he finally gathered himself, he looked at her with something between admiration and disbelief. “Damn… now you almost had me.” He wiped the corner of his eye with his thumb, still smiling. “I know that’s a lie… but I’ll let you have it. Because that line? It tells me more about you than you’ll ever admit.” He leaned back, confidence settling over him like a lion’s mane.

“And how do you know it’s not the truth?” she asked, chin tilted, eyes squinted, calm.

“Because I know you,” he said. “You enjoy giving pleasure as much as you receive it… maybe even more.” He shifted, serious now, his eyes cutting through her like teeth sinking in. “Because you like to be in control.” He let the silence stretch intimate, as if two shadows were kissing in the dark. “I’m the same way.”

“Hmm… what shall I tell you next…” She licked her lips, tasting the teeth in his gaze.

“No need,” he said, eating away at the space between them with a smile. “You can tell me on the ride to your place… check.” He motioned to the bartender, like he’d cornered her queen and dared her to play the next move.

“Whoa. Who says this is the end?” she said, her voice tempered, not defensive… aware.

“I didn’t say it was the end,” he replied, his tone casual, but his eyes didn’t move. “I see it more as a beginning.” Then he leaned closer, not in lust, but in logic. “Who’s to say we’re gonna have sex when we get to your place? Hell, the place might be filthy.” A grin curled across his face as he motioned toward Blue, who still sat at the other end of the bar, a shadow, now. “I’d just rather us continue our game of intellectual intimacy… without all the distractions.”

Red narrowed her gaze. “But you still don’t know my name.”

He didn’t flinch. “I told you… I know you. More than anything a name could ever tell me.” Red looked over towards Blue as if she’d won, not realizing Blue was in on the game from the beginning… Checkmate!