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“Luther.” The tall, lanky blond steps forward and extends his hand. “I’m Luther. Nice to meet you.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Something about him has warning bells sounding in my head.

“Hello, nice to meet you.” Note to self, don’t leave Luther alone with my drink.

“What are you fine ladies drinking tonight?” he asks, and I suddenly think I’d rather be alone with my thoughts as opposed to spending the evening with this guy—who looks like he has one thought on his mind and one thought only.

“I’ll have a lemon drop martini,” I blurt out, desperate for a drink now, and Bea’s nervous smile widens.

“Make that two.” She leans in so only I can hear her. “He might not be a dream guy, but he certainly has that mysterious thing going for him.”

I appreciate her trying, but he’s not my type. Not that I have a type. Dating seems to require a willingness to open yourself up to another person and doing the opposite is pretty much my specialty. But if I did have a type, it definitely wouldn’t be him.

The song changes to something more up-tempo, and the guys motion for us to follow them out onto the small dance floor in the center of the room.

“Be right there.” Bea waves them on as we sip our drinks.

“Beatrix.” I drag out every syllable. “Seriously?”

“Well, Gus seemed nice enough, and you know I have a thing for big guys like him. He could be the Khal to my Khaleesi.”

“Yeah, not seeing it.” I nearly spill my drink, laughing.

“Well, at least the drinks are free.” She always looks for the silver lining. “And he said he had a friend, so I figured…”

“It’s fine. Maybe he’ll be a good dancer.” I dig deep for something positive to say.

“That’s the spirit.” She downs her drink and joins them on the dance floor.

My liquid courage goes down much, much slower.

I’m sitting at the bar, enjoying the music and the show Gus is putting on for Bea, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I turn back to the bar and use the mirrored wall to my advantage, searching the speckled glass, for what, I’m not sure. Just when I’m about to look away, something… or someone catches my attention.

On the second level, where the bar wraps around in a balcony over the dance floor, a man dressed in all black, maybe a leather jacket—it’s really hard to make out in the dim lighting— watches me from the shadows.

I turn to look over my shoulder, not caring if he sees me or not. But he’s gone. If he was ever there…

Imagining things seems to be my specialty lately.

I finish my drink as Bea comes over to order another.

She motions at the bartender. “Two more, please.”

“Are you sure?”

“We came to have fun, so let’s have fun!” She laughs as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.

I wish I could be so carefree, wish I wasn’t always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or, in my case, the dream.

“You know what? You’re right.” I turn my attention back to the barkeep. “Do you have anything a little stronger?”

“How strong you talking, miss?”

“How about losing myself in a song,—it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to meets I can’t feel my face.” I amuse myself with my answer.

“I’ve got just the thing.” He winks. “I’ll be right back.

He disappears down to the end of the bar, and I swear I see him talking to the shadow of a man I saw earlier.

Saw. Imagined. Minor details.