Pistol by Max Henry

know you are.” He lifted the velvet rope and ushered them both in. “Have a good night, ladies.”
    “What the fuck?” A male voice bellowed from behind them.
    Steph turned in time with Cass to see one of the men who had been kept aside shove Trent. Gary pinned the man to the wall with a hand to the shoulder as the young guy continued to yell. “Why do they get to skip the line? Sexist fuckers.”
    “Please , wait to the side,” Gary urged.
    The guy struggled against his hold. “Fuck you, asshole. Who made you the boss of me?”
    “Your fake ID did, son.” Trent gripped the arm of the young man’s friend, who looked like he was about to jump in on the action.
    The first assailant spat on Gary . Cass emitted a low ‘ ooo’ from behind her as Steph gasped in anticipation. Gary coolly wiped his face with his free hand, then lifted the guy by the fabric of his shirt, and hoisted him down the steps.
    “Don’t ever try to come in here again,” he warned as Trent shoved the man’s friend after him.
    Steph nudged Cass in the side. “Let’s go get a drink, huh?”
    “Hang on,” Cass replied, and held up a hand. “I want to see what he does.”
    “Why?” All the dickhead would probably try to do is swing a hit at the bouncers, and make a fool of himself.
    “Because you should see Gary when he’s in action. It’s beautiful.”
    Steph stared at her buddy, amazed that she only now saw the adoration in Cass’s eyes as she watched Gary do his job. “You’ve got the hots for the guy.”
    “Fast, aren’t you?”
    “How do you know him?”
    Cass heaved a sigh, and looked over at her. “All I’ll say is that we go a long way back. And many moons ago, we shared something special—a life-changing event if you like.”
    “But it’s still all Secret Squirrel and Morocco Mole ?”
    Cass laughed. “Yeah. Afraid it is.”
    “Well,” Steph started as she watched the young guy try his luck at boxing a titan. “I’m going to get a drink. Meet you at the bar.”
    “K, babe.”
    Steph continued up the hall, and pushed through to the bar area. Her eyes swung right on impulse, and she watched as Pete served a couple of groups simultaneously. He moved with effortless grace, as though his tending skills were as much a part of him as the ability to breathe. Butterflies thwapped the inside of her gut with merciless wings while she pushed forward to take a place at the end of the counter.
    The female bartender from the other night hop-skipped down to her, and shouted over the music. “What’ll you have?”
    “Bourbon,” she called back. Why? Who knew? But more than likely she could relate it to the fact that was what he drank.
    “How you have it?” the girl called.
    “However it comes.”
    The short blonde gave her a thumbs up, then darted over to the shelves of liquor to prepare the drink. She returned a moment later with a neat glass. Steph handed over a ten, and gawked at the pathetic change she got back. How could such a small glass cost so much?
    “Enjoy in’ ya night?”
    She melted at the way he rolled the ‘r’. “Only just arrived,” she shouted across the counter.
    Pete smirked, and poi nted at the drink. “Gone off ya vodka?”
    She shook her head, and threw the dark fluid back. It stung every inch of her throat, but she held back the urge to gag. He smiled as her eyes watered, and reached over the counter to wipe a drip from the corner of her mouth. The furnace in Steph’s gut fired at the contact, and instant pheromones gave her a delusional, false confidence. She pushed up on her toes, and leant over the counter to grab the front of his uniform shirt in her fist. Steph pulled him toward her until their lips were a hairs breadth apart.
    His heavy breaths tickled the side of her face as she brought her mouth to his ear. “Perhaps I wanted to remember what you tasted like.”
    The vibration of his chuckle rumbled through her hand. He pulled back, and beamed a luscious smile, before he darted