Happy Hour

Music pulsed through the nightclub, the bathroom walls doing little to muffle whatever hit song was playing. The pounding of the bass thrummed in her chest. Tonight, she was Selene, just a girl passing through for the weekend, visiting a childhood friend. Last weekend, she was Molly, the weekend before Tara, and so on. Each week a new name, a new face, but her goal never changed: get Tommy Calloway to take her home.

Tommy was your textbook trust fund baby--rich, reckless, and on nights like these, too drunk to notice details. He burned through daddy's money on good booze and good times, always seeking that next thrill. Selene wanted in his world, a taste of that life, and so far, she was pretty damn good at getting her fix. Being a bartender at The Top Spot, the bathroom of which she was currently changing in, gave her a leg up over the other women pining for Tommy's attention. Seeing that she'd served him all of his drinks each weekend, she knew just how deep he was. She'd assume this new identity and get in close with him, knowing he'd be too drunk to pay attention as to why all the girls he had taken home the last 3 months looked so similar. She'd gone through great lengths, sure, but the alcohol definitely helped her cause.

Selene leaned in closer to the mirror, carefully touching up her makeup as she waited for the temporary tattoos to finish setting on her skin. With each new persona, Tommy revealed more and more about his type. He liked his girls tatted, girls with edge. His favorite hair color on a woman so far had been a mousy sort of brown, though tonight she was trying something new. Tonight, she'd fixed on an auburn wig, sleek and cut just below her chin. It framed her face just right, accentuating her cheekbones. This wig had arrived in the mail just after Molly's night with Tommy. Maybe she'd style her own hair similarly after this.

"Red is the sexiest color on a woman," he'd once slurred in her ear, and Selene would be the type of girl who would want to stand out in a crowd. The deep red dress plunged at the neckline and hardly covered her ass as it hugged her curves. Complementing it was her matching red lipstick and golden high heels, though the heel was no more than a few inches. Tommy liked his girls shorter than him.

Blowing out a breath, she took one last look in the mirror. Perfect. Smiling to herself, she turned on her heel and made her way out of the bathroom, the pulsing in her chest only growing stronger.

The Top Spot was a cacophony of strobe lights, clinking glasses, and bodies moving in a rhythmic chaos. This is where she truly began to play her part, no longer was she the bartender, but Selene. Cool and confident, Selene. She strutted by the crowd; a walk she had spent an hour perfecting last night. Her hair bounced, her hips swayed, and she was drawing the eye of quite a few patrons. She scanned the crowd, eyes landing almost instantly on Tommy. He was in his usual spot in the VIP corner, an overpriced bottle of whiskey already half-empty on his table. His arm was draped lazily around some girl she doubted he'd remember in just a few short minutes. His grin was cocky, she knew it well, but the glaze coating his eyes was the telltale sign that he was well into his night. The looser the better.

Without hesitation, she floated her way through the crowd towards him. They say confidence is key, and as Selene had learned it truly is. She felt the growing number of eyes on her as people parted the way for her to cut across, but there was only one pair that mattered to her. Tommy glanced up mid-sip, his eyes landing on her, his expression unreadable. Then, there was the flash of recognition, there always was. She could see the gears turning briefly. Was she a girl from one of his past nights of debauchery? Someone he'd seen at another club? His alcohol addled mind hadn't placed her before, and she didn't expect it to tonight either. She held his gaze, and watched the questioning melt away, just as she knew it would.

Selene's lips curled into a smirk, "Mind if I join you." Her voice was smooth, sultry. Tommy smiled, intrigue blooming in his eyes, "I'd be the biggest idiot in this club, if I said no."

The girl he had been doting on, scowled at the loss of affection.

"I mind. Tommy, weren't you saying you were getting bored of this joint," she whined. "Suddenly, I am no longer bored," he replied, his eyes not leaving Selene's. The girl huffed, before grabbing her purse, and storming off.

"Where were we?" Tommy drawled, eyes roving down her body. "I was just taking a seat," she said, assuming the now unoccupied seat beside him. Crossing her legs slow and deliberately, she let the hem of her dress slide up ever so slightly. Just enough to hold his intrigue. “So, what brings you here...?” Tommy asked, words hanging at the end as if to add a placeholder where her name should be. She tilted her head, pretending to consider her answer. “I'm Selene, just visiting an old friend in town for the weekend. Thought I’d have a little fun while I’m here.” She let her fingers graze the rim of his glass, eyes flicking up beneath her lashes. “And you happen to look like fun.”

A chuckle rumbled through his chest, "I try to be."

He was almost too easy.

As the night wore on, the drinks continued to flow, and Selene was playing her role flawlessly. She laughed at his jokes, leaned in feigning interest as he told her stories she'd already heard him tell a hundred times before, and kept her own drinking to a minimum. She had to stay on her A-game around Tommy, and fake identities do not mix well with alcohol. She let him take the lead, gave him the illusion of control, when really, she was pulling all the strings. Every touch was strategic—a brush of her fingers against his arm, a playful nudge when he teased her, the lightest graze of her knee against his. The effect she had on him though was obvious, from the way he leaned in hanging off her every word to the way his breath quickened at the lightest touch. This Selene character was a real winner. Though she often had a similar effect on Tommy, tonight he was more blatant with his yearning.

When he finally suggested they get out of there, she paused briefly in what he would assume was hesitation. Just long enough to make him want it more. “I don’t know,” she mused, biting her lip. “I barely know you.” She almost made herself laugh with that one. There was little she didn't know about Tommy Calloway. Tommy smirked, sliding an arm around her waist. “Then let’s change that.”

That was all the convincing she needed.

The cool night air chilled her skin after being used to the heat of the club. When Tommy signaled for his driver, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb. He opened the door for her with a drunken flourish, and she slid inside, settling into the leather seat as he climbed in beside her. The doors shut, enclosing them in the vehicle. She kept her head low, acting as though she had had quite a few drinks when in reality she barely had a buzz going. She trusted her disguise to hold with Tommy, but the driver was another story, and she didn't care to test his memory.

His hand landed on her thigh, fingers tracing absentminded circles. “You really are something else,” he murmured.

She turned to face him, letting her eyes study the details of his face. “You have no idea.”

Tommy's penthouse was only an 11-minute drive from The Top Spot, each turn familiar to her, though he'd only begun taking her there three weeks ago. The penthouse had been undergoing renovations the previous two months. With every passing streetlight she could feel the impatience radiating from him. Tommy was too caught up in the game to notice the way she subtly studied him, savoring every detail—the delicious smell of his signature cologne, the slight slur in his voice, the way his hand tightened on her leg every so often.

When they arrived, Tommy wasted no time getting them out of the car which was still rolling to a stop. In the elevator he could hardly keep his hands off of her, and when it stopped, he tugged her into the massive living room. Floor to ceiling windows showed the whole of the downtown area below, the moon hung high above the horizon. Selene stepped in as if it were her first time, wide-eyed and awestruck, letting out a low whistle. “Wow, it's lovely,” she breathed, just as she had rehearsed. In truth, she knew just about every corner of this apartment: from the sleek furniture, the liquor cabinet stocked with labels she knew were worth thousands combined, the marble countertops that gleamed under the soft kitchen lighting. She had been here before many times, though under different names. Tommy grinned, pleased with her reaction. “Present for my 18th,” He tossed his jacket onto the couch, “Can I get you a drink?”

"Surprise me," she leaned onto the counter, crossing one ankle over the other. "Bold," he smirked, grabbing a bottle she recognized. "Blanton's Silver Edition?" she gaped, the bartender in her briefly showing. "You know it," he grinned, pouring the dark amber liquid into two glasses, "I like a girl who knows her bourbon,"

Handing her a glass, he asked, "Ever had it?" She giggled, "Oh, I could only dream of affording a bottle like this." This particular bourbon typically went for $4,000. She'd seen the very same bottle in her father's collection once, though she'd never tried it herself. "Well," he clinked his glass against hers, "Drink up." She looked up at him through her lashes, taking a slow drink. Oh god, was that good. A happy sigh escaped her lips, "Wow..." Selene must have really made an impression on him; the usual whiskey they drank wasn't nearly this exquisite. Tommy smiled broadly at her, watching her reaction, before sipping his own glass, "Glad you enjoy it." Thoroughly. It'd be hard to not finish the drink too quickly, but she had to keep a clear head.

Tommy crossed the room in long strides, turning some music on, before settling on the couch. It was lively, he always played something similar when they were in the living room. He waved her over, "C'mere." She obliged, crossing the room in similar fashion, before nestling into his side. His arm stretched across the back of the couch, fingers lightly tracing her bare shoulder. “There's something about you,” he mused, eyes scanning her face.

"Something good, I hope," she replied, scanning his face to see if he had finally caught onto her game. "You're just so real. Most girls I take home just seem to be in it for a good time." Real. There wasn't much of Selene that was real.

She took another sip, careful, calculated. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

He laughed, but it was halfhearted, "Usually." The expression on his face remained thoughtful, like he was trying to place her. "But there is something about you," he admitted, "I feel like I've known you forever." Little did he know how close to the truth he was. Maybe Tommy was getting tired of his one-nightstand life. Maybe he was finally ready to let someone in for good. "What if I said I felt the same," she shifted her body, placing a hand on his chest. Right now, she just had to distract him. She'd make a decision about the existence of Selene later, but for now his focus could not be on anything but his "prize".

Tommy’s swagger returned, but his eyes still held that searching look, like he was on the edge of putting something together. Selene couldn't let that happen. "Then I'd say," he murmured, fingers trailing down her arm and landing on her hip, "that's one hell of a coincidence."

She tilted her head, letting her nails lightly trace the fabric of his shirt. "Or maybe fate." That did it. His grip on her waist tightened just a little, his mind shifting focus. Good. "You believe in fate, Selene?" he asked, voice low as he leaned in. She smiled, letting her lips graze his jaw just enough to make him forget whatever was nagging at him. "I believe in a lot of things." He hummed, satisfied for now, as his hands roamed lower. She let him pull her closer, let the heat of the moment take over—because the closer he was to her body, the further he was from figuring her out. The space between them shrunk, and it was only a breath before his lips crashed into hers.

Still though, she remained hyper-aware of her surroundings. The taste of alcohol in his breath, the music, a slower song now emitting from the speakers, and the distance between her and the jacket he'd thrown over the armrest of the couch. The pocket of which had the keys to his office. Tommy's office was the only room of this penthouse she hadn't entered yet. She'd hoped to pick the lock last week but hadn't been able to crack it. The possible contents of his office were what peaked her Calloway curiosity in the beginning. Her time spent with Tommy began as a bonus before it spiraled into her obsession with him. If she prayed, she'd pray that her suspicions about him were correct.

"How about we take this to the bedroom, cowboy," she tugged on the front of his shirt. His eyes were cloudy a mixture of alcohol and desire blocking all his inhibitions. Wordlessly, his head bobbed up and down. Hand in hand, she guided him to the bedroom, he didn't seem to notice the fact that she knew exactly where to go.

Sweaty and breathless, Selene sighed into the quiet air of Tommy's bedroom. Whom had just fallen asleep curled around her, head in the crook of her neck, breath prickling her skin. Five minutes passed, then ten. When she was absolutely sure he wouldn't wake up, she slipped out from under him, making her way to the living room.

The keys jingled lightly upon being lifted from the jacket. She clasped them in her fist, turning and making her way to the office just down the hall from the bedroom. Smooth and soundless, perfectly made for each other, the lock made no sound as she turned the key. The door, however, creaked slightly as she pushed it open, the darkness inside swallowing her whole. Selene stepped in carefully, closing the creaky door as quietly as she could behind her.

A slow breath escaped before she turned on the small desk lamp, its golden glow illuminating the mess of papers, files, and loose cash scattered across Tommy’s desk. With steady hands, she sifted through the chaos, her eyes scanning quickly. Names, numbers, transactions. She just needed to see his last few dealings. Then, her fingers brushed against something familiar. A leather-bound journal. She flipped it open, her eyes darting over the handwritten entries. Payments. Deals. Some names she recognized, others she didn’t. Her breath caught as she stared at the name scrawled beside the latest transaction—her father's, among others. A slow smile curled on her lips. She pulled out her phone, snapping a picture of the last page before slipping the journal back exactly where she found it. No evidence of her presence, no trace left behind. The other names on the list would prove useful to her father. Though none of them were in direct conflict with her family, they were on their radar enough that her family should know that the Calloway's were having dealings with them.

Tommy Calloway was much more than a simple trust fund baby and now she was certain. She'd known Tommy's father, William Calloway, was head of a mob family, just as her own father was. Yet, she didn't know just how much Tommy knew of his father's business- until now. With a steady hand, she shut the office door behind her, returning the keys to Tommy’s jacket pocket like they had never left. Her eyes travelled to the front door; she'd always left before he awoke. Tonight, though she hesitated. Releasing the breath she'd been holding; she chose the bedroom door. She chose Tommy. The morning would bring questions, questions she'd finally answer. Two months she'd been seducing Tommy; it was time they finally met.