Page 6 of Cry Baby
He was more like who we sold and not a buyer. I leaned against the bar and watched the others the way Mistress had taught me over the years.
“Don’t fuck this up.”
“You say something, man?” he tried again, and I sighed.
“No.”
I wasn’t much for conversation. The Mistress preferred my silence.
Observe first, then strike.
Touch later?
A group of college boys crowded the pool table, and I held my hands over my ears.
No. No. No.
Too loud.
Them?
No.
Too many witnesses, and the men in the crowds never dissipated.
Two older men in their forties argued over a dart game, but even with the racket, they were too sober.
“Okay, then. You’re weird. Never seen you here before. I would’ve remembered that perfect platinum hair and the feral look in your eyes.”
I grunted in response, giving a nod.
Focus.
Near the jukebox area, there was someone interesting.
Mid-thirties.
Wedding ring tan line, but off for this outing…
And look at that. He was already on what appeared to be his third drink, if the empty glasses beside him were anything to go by.
One last thing…
I scanned the space around the man with my eyes, dodging the guy still standing beside me.
Sure enough, the lonely married drunk was alone.
“Bingo.”
This was promising. Mistress would like this man.
“Bingo? Is that your name, Cutie? You grow up on a farm, too?”
My eyes narrowed on the red-haired man, and my imagination ran wild with his words. I didn’t see the red hair or youthful face anymore. Now, all I saw was a canvas, painted in dripping red blood and without a face able to wink at me anymore.
“No,” I said again, in the same flat tone as before.
My eyes drifted across the bar again out of habit, casing every possible mark for Mistress.
