When I abandoned the crisp air of night for the sweaty and drunken air of Beaufort Bar, I was intimidated. The dark glass doors closed behind me and I felt whisked away into a parallel world of reflections shaped by pulsing waves of artificial light. I hurried over to a bar table, feeling strikingly out of place with my innocent intentions of having a simple meal. A man with a bottle haughtily tipped into his mouth eyed me as I walked by. Even when masked by darkness and the assumption that most people in here would not have a full memory in the morning, I still felt as though I did not belong.


Two more people came strolling in through the glass doors. A woman of ethereal beauty, wearing such a conservative dress that barely any skin was visible, guided by the tight grip of a man.


“Roxana, would you go grab us a couple of club sodas?” The man asked, placing his hand against her ivory cheek. She made her way to the bar so immediately it seemed dutiful, and I watched as the man leaned against the wall and stared into the crowd of gyrating dancers. His eyes then fixated on Roxana as she neared the bar.


A genius was not required to see that the bartender at Beaufort Bar was more than willing to indulge. Every time he poured an attractive woman a drink, his promiscuity announced itself to the world and his green eyes glinted.


“Can I have two club sodas for myself and my boyfriend, Cole?” Roxana asked, demurely folding her hands on the bar’s reflective black surface. I found it curious that she made sure to specify the name of her boyfriend to a stranger.


“Just club sodas? A girl like you should have a sophisticated drink,” the bartender chided, peering up at Roxana from under his dark brow. She smiled and averted her gaze from his imposing eyes.


“Thank you, but really… I only need two club sodas.”


Cole was now standing upright, his eyes in a squint and still glued to Roxana.


“Come on, just one tiny little drink,” the bartender persisted. “It’ll be on the house.” He turned to the display of ornate bottles perched behind him, and after a few seconds of deliberation, dug beneath the counter to emerge with a ghostly blue bottle.


“I give this only to a few people,” the bartender whispered playfully, winking a green eye and pouring the liquid into a glass.


“Really, I--”


“--Have you ever had a drink before?” He quipped.


“Well…yes, but--”


“--Then just try it,” the bartender pleaded. Roxana placed a finger on her crimson lips in thought before taking a club soda and hurrying back to Cole. They whispered amongst each other for a few seconds while the bartender eerily leaned over the counter.


Roxana glided back to the bartender with an amiable smile and hesitantly took the drink he had poured for her. I had never seen someone show a more gratifying smile than the bartender did when the liquid seeped past Roxana’s lips. She looked surprisingly self-satisfied when she placed the empty glass back onto the counter. Cole was intently drinking his club soda, never taking a breath until all of it disappeared down his throat.


“Wasn’t that good?” The bartender smoothly inquired. Roxana nodded, and when the bartender poured some more, she gratefully pressed it to her lips and swallowed. Enchanted, she asked for another glass and walked over to Cole in a meandering line. He appeared offended by the offer, but after persuasion from Roxana, he accepted the glass. A glaze spread over his eyes as he sipped the liquid. Roxana smiled and went back to the bartender to continue her conversation.


“I like your necklace,” the bartender cooed. “May I see it?”


Roxana handed him her silver necklace with a circumscribed triangle as a charm. The bartender gave a quick grin.


“There’s an engraving. AA… what does that stand for?”


“Alco--n-never mind, it’s nothing,” Roxana stammered. The bartender handed her back her necklace and she quickly shoved it in her pocket. Cole waved his hand for another drink and Roxana immediately came over with one. She then asked the bartender for another for herself. Eventually, I lost count of how many times this pattern recurred.


Cole began talking to another girl, an antithesis of Roxana with her gossamer clothing and seductive movements. His shoulders were loose and his feet were unstable as he constantly shifted along the wall. The flirtation became overt when Cole did not reject the woman for resting a hand on his shoulder, even though Roxana was obviously his girlfriend. His glass was coolly tucked into his leather-clad elbow.


“So, how is that boyfriend of yours over there?” The bartender asked, knowing that Cole was nearing the verge of unfaithfulness. Roxana seemed oddly puzzled by the question, but nonetheless answered with the generic reply of “okay”. The bartender’s smile grew devious. He abruptly grabbed Roxana’s face and kissed her, to which Roxana responded in her alcoholic haze. A loud crash of glass resounded through the bar. All eyes turned to Cole as he ran forward and shoved the bartender away from Roxana. Fists met jaws in a bloody fight, the vodka bottles fell and spilled all over the floor, and Roxana could do nothing but stand still in shock. The bartender stumbled away, and in an instant, Cole’s foot met the bartender’s chest and he flew back. The back of his neck slammed into the hard wooden corner of a table, and his limp body slumped on to the floor. Roxana gazed down at the blood caked on Cole’s hands and fainted amid the spilled vodka. Liquid fingers climbed up the pure white threads of her dress and blossomed into a sickening mess of colors. I heard sirens approaching.


The police were quick to restrain Cole in handcuffs while paramedics attended to Roxana and the bartender. While a panicked crowd surrounded the area and whispers clouded the air, I pushed my way back to my table to retrieve my wallet. After being ushered outside into the rain with the rest of the crowd, I heard the shouts of the now revived bartender. He had done nothing wrong, he did not know “the girl” came in with her boyfriend, the boyfriend was obviously drunk and he overreacted, etc. When questioned by the police, Cole could do nothing but accuse the bartender of breaking his and Roxana’s long-standing sobriety and fooling around with her. The paramedics had yet to revive Roxana. Her raven hair shrouded her face and her pale arm was stretched away from her torso, as if she was reaching for something that had been taken from her. I began walking back to my apartment, the scene too outlandish to bear. I knew I would not be having a drink any time soon.