You can't fake love

Present

Stone:

I spent the entire day watching her working.

Long dark hair up in a messy bun, short jeans and a black tang top. She had a few more tattoos now than I remembered, a permanent tan line, eyes as dark as the day I met her.

She was there, walking, talking to her friends, breathing and I couldn’t move.

For two years I believed she was dead, I cried her memory and thought I had lost the one thing that was worth living for. So I decided I would wait until her shift ended. I needed the time to cool down, and I watched her as if I were watching a movie.

This was a small beachfront bar, wooden floors, thin walls, and a few chairs on the bar. The porch, which ran along the entire front and left side, was full of tables and chairs. The faded blue of the exterior walls showed that many stories had unfolded there. Even from the sand, I could smell the fried food and cheap beer.

She was a little mouse running along the bar, delivering food and drinks, and she didn’t stop, not even for a second. When she finally sat down, it was dark outside, the chairs were up the tables and her friends were talking to her, beer in hand, laughing at a joke one of her colleagues made.

Even after hours I didn’t know what to say, but I let out a slow blow of my cigarette and walked in.

Ally:

The day was packed, the summer is just getting here, but the tourists were all around the bar. During my 6 hour shift I couldn’t even sit, I was walking around making drinks and delivering fries and fish.

The truth is moving to the south of Brazil was the most difficult, terrible, necessary and best decision I ever made. Here I was free, no old money to protect, no guns, no traditions to uphold. Just me, the ocean, some good friends and a small house.

As soon as I finished cleaning the bathrooms, João called me and handed me a beer.

“Sit down, we are drinking before we leave today.” He was a cute Brazilian boy, long blond hair, grey eyes and a two kilometer smile. He’s a few years younger, 18 maybe, completely dedicated to his mother, Ana, and the bar his father left them.

So I grabbed the beer and sat down beside Monica, the other bartender. She was a feral 21 year old biology student, short dark hair and tattoos all over. While Gui, the cook, walked toward us. He was a tall, broad, full of muscle man. His hair was shaved and he had a sweet smile.

We were talking in portuguese, making jokes about regulars and tourists when I saw him walking in. My heart stopped, my lungs forgot how to work and a dizziness took over me. I stood up on shaking legs but I couldn’t say a word.

“Ally, is that really you?” Stone was the most handsome man in the entire world, slim body, pale skin, dark hair, tall and strong. He could lift a car but you couldn’t tell. He was wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt, his usual uniform.

Other than that, he was funny, intelligent, and each one of his tattoos had a meaning. He could make me laugh in the darkest moments and he was able to take my breath away with just a look.

I loved him once, and I know he loved me too.

“Stone, what are you doing here?” I asked breathlessly, as if I was running, my heart racing and when I moved in his direction he flinched and I stopped. “Is everything ok? How did you find me?”

He was analyzing the situation, looking behind me to my friends and the windows of the bar. That’s him, constantly watching over his shoulder. I suppose it is a down side of his chosen career. Even 2 feet apart I could smell his aftershave and cigarette. But the worst, all I could think about was running to his arms.

“Your brother is dead and unlike you, it’s real.” He said blankly.

I felt the world spin, my legs gave out and I fell to the floor. In only two strides he got me in his arms. His smell found me before I could think about his hands on my waist.

“Oh, Babygirl” It was nothing but a whisper. And my world went dark.

---

Three years ago

Stone:

I walked into a bar far south of Chicago, full of lowlives and smelling like cheap beer and trouble. Everytime I needed some time off, I came here, The Rusty. It’s a small bar, but full of drunk stories and each and everyone of the costumers knew better than to mess up with me.

I had a family name to guard my back, but in reality they were afraid of what I could do. My name is Simon Lewis, but since third grade I’ve been known as Stone because I ‘accidentally’ threw a rock on a kid that was messing with my brother.

I walked to the bar, shaked hands with Zoo, the bartender, and asked for a beer. “Tough week, bro?” Zoo knew me for years and with just one look he knew I had more in my mind than ever before.

“Man, since my father got sick it’s been a tough week.” I laughed without a trace of sincerity in me. “But the fuckhead will die any day now and then I plan to get at least the garage to run again.” My father had cancer, and about a year ago he started training my brother to take over.

They run the business and I am the handyman. They need someone gone? Someone to spill the truth? Someone to protect? They call me.

Which is not a problem, but lately my father’s getting a bit too emotional. If a person even sneeze in his direction, they become a target. Don’t get me wrong, in this world people die all the time, but I never wanted to be the hands of a tyrant.

Zoo and I kept rambling about how much the garage would be a good way of laundering the money, as much as the bar here, while he cleaned some glasses and that was when I saw the door open and she walked in.

She was wearing baggy black jeans and a grey cropped top, her long dark hair was falling on her shoulders and she seemed tense. I felt my heart skip a beat and my jeans were instantly tighter. She was the most beautiful woman in the world, too polished to be here but as she walked to the bar, only two seats after me, I decided I needed to feel her.

I got up and sat by her side, she only acknowledged me with a smirk so sharp could kill an innocent man.

“Hello, Babygirl.” That’s all I was able to say before she blasted into a laughter.

“That’s your pickup line? ‘Hello, Babygirl’?” She was mocking my tone of voice. She had a death wish or she didn’t know who I was. “I was expecting something a bit more sexy to be honest.” She had a sharp tongue, that’s for sure and part of me loved it. The part I’m talking about was inside my boxers and making it uncomfortable to sit straight.

She looked in my direction and I swear I could drawn in her dark eyes.

“Alright, no nicknames, I’m Stone, who are you?” I asked, flashing two fingers to Zoo and he immediately brought two beers.

“My name is Ally, nice to meet you Stone.” She looked over to Zoo. “I don’t drink beer, give me your top shelf Scotch.”

Zoo laughed and looked at me shocked. “We don’t have a top shelf. I can get you the ‘not so bad’ tequila” She shrugged and agreed.

I was mesmerized, I needed to know everything about this girl. I leaned in a little and I could smell her perfume, strong and woodzy, it fitted her perfectly.

“So, Ally, other than the top shelf Scotch and this sharp tongue. Who are you?” She looked over, she seemed suspicious at first, so I asked another question. “You are not from here, are you?”

She seemed to relax a little.

“Kinda, my family is from Chicago and my father and brother live here, but I grew up in Denmark with my mom. It’s my first time in the U.S.” Alright, I could work with that, but before I could say something else she kept going. “My mother died last month so my father decided it was time for me to move here with them. And since today they are busy, I ran to the southside to get a drink.”

I noticed that she didn’t even flinch when she mentioned her mother’s death, so I kept quiet about that. But in my silence, she widened her eyes as if she realized she said too much, and all I could think was that I could make other things to make her eyes as wide as that.

She took a long swig of tequila without even blinking. She could definitely handle a strong drink. Then she looked at me and excused herself to the bathroom.

As she walked, I could only think I would never be the same man again. I didn’t know how right was I.