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The once shrill and piercing music had mercifully become a faint background thud thanks to her relocation. So indistinct now that it was hard to make out which song it was. The penetrating bass was still evident, and it caused her to tap along with the subtle beat.
The sound amplified through the pack of Marlboro Lights lying on her stomach as she gently drummed on it, humming wordlessly to herself.
She had escaped the manic music purposefully, and now, hidden away from it, what she really longed for was the seductive notes of Robert Plant. — Now, that was someone who mastered his craft (not like the trash spewing out in the background) — and suddenly the thought of going home wasn't so bad.
Her beer needed attention, though, so she put the bottle to her mouth and anticipated how stale and lukewarm it must have gone by now. — She was right, and as she downed the last swallows, she grimaced, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Lukewarm beer. If there ever was a god, she had screwed up in that department by giving it that character when left untouched for a period of time.
Was there anything more revolting than warm and flat beer? However, she decided to forgive god because she had created beer in the first place. The pale, straw-colored liquid had been a good friend for many years, and it deserved praise, even though she might as well have been drinking tepid bath water.
Funny thoughts popped into her head and she giggled to herself at them. She really did feel like a preserved moose.
With her beer gone, she contemplated getting another on — to end on a high note — but the solitary time away from the house and the comfy reclining lawn chair told her to stay put. Stretching out like a well-fed cat, she reached for the Marlboro Lights on her stomach. Marlboro Lights, another one of her great friends. A companion that had been in her life for as long as Lady Beer had, and they married so well together.
Her worldless humming stopped when she flipped open the lid and discovered she was nearly all out. "Damn, last one..." she mumbled before placing it between her lips.
The first drag was always the most colorful and kick-started that feeling in her, so she had a deep inhale as she let her eyes slip shut and was just about to exhale when a voice startled her into a coughing fit.
"Mind if I have a seat?"
The smoke in her lungs became tangled in her throat, and it came out from her nose and mouth (damn, she must've looked cool) and she coughed even more. "Jesus fuck!" She bolted upright, planting her feet on the ground and forearms on her thighs as she wheezed.
He gave an amused exhale. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
"And yet, somehow, you did..." she croaked, trying to catch her breath.
Without taking his eyes off her, he slipped down into the other reclining patio chair next to her. His hand searching his pocket for his cigarettes. "Are you okay?"
She nodded as she wiped her eyes. "Yes. Thanks." She took a deep breath.
"You gotta be careful."
She gave an amused exhale as she slumped back into position again. In the absence of her coughing fit, she took notice of his voice and how smooth it was, and although he hadn't spoken very many words yet, he still had managed to cause a pleasurable chill to shoot up her spine before it extended out and covered her limbs with goosebumps. It made her body shudder, and although she tried to tamp it down, her reaction must've been mistaken for a chill-spell because he immediately asked if she wanted the blanket hanging from the back of his chair.
Her heart picked up pace. Forget going home! "No, thanks. I'm all right. I'm just enjoying the quiet..."
They exchanged a glance and burst into laughter; the relentless thumping from the speakers was impossible to get away from.
"Just so you know, I'm terrible at small talk," she confessed and let a controlled stream of smoke disappear into the night.
"Me too."
She turned to face him. Her mouth split into a grin. "You're not!"
"I am. I swear."
She gave an amused exhale and lay back again; her eyes searching in the star-dotted sky.
"What is your name?"
"Amy," she said without looking at him. "You?"
"Tim."
"'Tim & Amy'," she mused, sucking on her cigarette. "Sounds like they could fight crime..."
They exchanged a look.
"Or open up a law firm," she continued.
Tim's mouth quirked into a smile. "Is that so?"
"Yep.
"So you see them as superheroes?"
"There's a chance."
"Would they be wearing some sort of leotard? Or a cape?"
They looked at one another and smiled.
"How about glasses to conceal their true identity?" Tim quipped. "And no one would suspect it was them."
Amy laughed. "That sounds interesting."
They fell into a moment of silence. Smoking quietly, their attention on the black, peaceful sky above them.
"It really is beautiful out here, isn't it?" Amy said after a while.
"It sure is." Tim had a drag of his cigarette and in that second, realised how badly he wanted to look at Amy again. His first impression was that she was stunning, but the poorly lit backyard and the hour of the night meant that he hadn't had a good look at her.
Was it really possible for a woman to be that attractive? He needed to know, and not wanting to stare, he made a show of checking out a noise so that he could glance at her again.
She didn't seem to notice. Not what he did or the fact that his heartbeats doubled so powerfully in speed and strength that they could give the shitty music a run for its money. She really was that beautiful; his eyes hadn't deceived him, although everything was shrouded in darkness.
He cleared his throat. "So, Amy..."
She turned to look at him, she smiled.
"What do you do?"
"Do you want to know the boring bit or the exciting bit?" she asked.
His interest was piqued. "The boring bit, please."
"Well, I'm in retail..."
"And that's boring, why?"
"It's too slow for me. Too quiet. Too damn proper."
His lips curled into a smile. "What's the exciting bit?"
"Being a bartender at Spicy Limit."
"You work at Spicy Limit?"
Amy nodded. "You know it?"
"I've been there."
She eyed him up and down. "In your superhero leotard and glasses? 'Cause I don't remember seeing you," she quipped while being acutely aware of the warmth in her stomach as Tim laughed out loud. "It's not that big of a place, Tim."
"I wouldn't lie to you." He took a deep breath of his cigarette.
Damn, his voice was alluring. She never wanted him to stop talking. Too bad he had no self-proclaimed small talk skills.
"Well, don't be a stranger next time, Tim. Come and say hi. I'll even buy you a beer."
"I'd like that."
"We can even be terrible at small talk together."
Tim slid his left hand behind his head and drew on his cigarette with the other. The lawn chair creaked softly as he made himself comfortable on it.
"What do you drink?" he asked, jutting his chin towards the bottle on the ground next to her.
"Oh, I...—" She rolled to her side and grabbed the bottle, swinging it by the neck. "—it was beer."
Tim left his cigarette between his lips as he sat up. "Can I interest you in something a bit more... sophisticated?" Reaching into his pocket, he produced a little flask.
Amy's eyes lit up. "You brought carry-on?"
Tim chuckled, had one last inhale of his cigarette before stubbing it out, and handed Amy the flask.
"What is it?"
"Brandy."
"Ooh, you're posh, Tim."
He laughed. "Hardly."
Amy had a swig when a flickering, invasive thought appeared. Now my lips are touching his. The gently warm liquid pooled in her stomach, heating her from the inside.
Brandy had never been a favorite of hers, but the fact that Tim drank it was enough for her not to dislike it. Even though she scarcely knew him. The flask exchanged hands again and Tim had a sip before lighting another cigarette.
"Why are we here?" Amy said, kind of laughing as she said it. "I mean, if we both seem to hate it so much..."
She could make out a fleeting pondering expression on Tim's face as he let her words sink in. She fought back a smile.
"Well, I can't speak for you," Tim said, sucking on his cigarette. "But I'm here because I promised a friend to support her cause —"
"Yeah...?"
"— and now that my work is done, I realise I can go home...!" His face lit by his own words.
Amy giggled.
His face softened. "How about you, Amy?"
She thought about it. "I'm here because I was persuaded by a friend of mine to come, but now that I think about it...I haven't seen him in hours, so I guess it means I can go home!"
They laughed.
Amy rolled to her side, tucking her hand under her cheek; the patio furniture was comfy, and she could easily fall asleep on it hadn't it been for the pleasant company reclined next to her. "I long for some Led Zeppelin," she sighed.
"So if we both feel like we've done our duties and can leave... Why don't we?" Tim suggested.
Amy tensed up; anxious and excited about his innuendo. Her brain ran 25 miles ahead of her, and the impure imagery it projected made her solar plexus fizz. She found herself nodding.
Tim started to sit up. "How about we grab a drink somewhere?"
"Yeah, I'd like that."
"There's a great place on Vine Street if you're interested?"
Amy — who would've gone to the moon with Tim at this point — smiled and nodded. "Sounds great, Tim."