Target Practice

“Where are you going?” 

“Out.” Sophie shrugged on a red blazer and eyed herself in her floor length mirror. 

“Hot date?” 

“Work.” She shrugged out of the blazer and threw it onto her bed just missing her sister's head. 

“Work?” Jordan questioned, scrutinizing the skin-tight leather pants and high heeled boots. 

“Mhm.” She pulled on a form fitting sweater. 

“Soph?” Her sister wasn’t convinced. She knew about her job. She also knew of her sister’s reputation. She didn’t stress about what she wore for work. Her sister was often described as a goddess. She could pick up any woman she wanted even in a burlap sack. 

Her sister ripped off the sweater and dug through her closet. Hangers clacked and frustrated huffs added to the otherwise quiet in the space. 

Jordan stepped beside her and gently pushed her arms down as she scanned the clothes, selected a chiffon button up shirt, and handed it to her sister. She took it from her and buttoned it, save for the top three to leave a tasteful amount of cleavage for anyone’s viewing pleasure. 

“Is the client hot?” Jordan pried, as sisters tend to do. “Or the hot date is after?” 

“There’s no date. It’s recon.” She studied herself in the mirror again, feeling more confident with her sister’s choice. 

“So, the girls are out and on display for whom?” 

Sophie turned to side eyed her younger sister without responding. Keys in hand and out the door before anymore prying questions could be asked. 

It wasn’t her usual night for recon. It was only Wednesday, but she knew Ryan was scheduled to work. She had been physically unable to wait until Friday. Instead of the shadowy booth she normally occupied, she situated herself on a stool at the bar scanning the room and the space behind the bar. She didn’t recognize anyone of the patrons, but the bartender currently pouring a dirty martini from a silver shaker…target acquired. 

She smiled from the other corner of the bar. Her eyes shifted between her and the customer currently placing another order. Sophie waited, carefully avoiding the eye contact of any other bartender. An unfamiliar tightness crept up her chest as the woman approached her. 

“It’s not your usual night.” She remarked, catching Sophie off guard. She screwed up her face and frowned. She’d noticed her. When? How? 

She giggled. Like actually giggled, adorably so. “Bartenders are observant.” She leaned forward against the bar. The garment she wore that could hardly be considered a shirt was low cut. Sophie’s eyes wandered momentarily before shooting their way back up. Locking on dark, teasing eyes. Distracted, again. 

“So, it seems.” She practically squeaked out before clearing her throat. “Whiskey, neat.” The woman titled her head slightly and made no move to pour her drink or even grab a glass. The gaze was unbearably intense. Sophie shifted uncomfortably on the stool. “Uhm. Please.” She added. 

This smile practically screamed satisfaction. “You got it.” She immediately pulled a glass from behind the bar and reached for the bar’s top shelf single malt whiskey. Sophie watched her every move from the way she opened the bottle, to the way she measured the exact legal portion, up until she slid the glass in front of her. 

“Thanks.” She offered, taking a soothing sip. “Sophie.” 

“I know.” Sophie met her eyes and furrowed her eyebrows. “‘THEE Sophie’.” She rolled her eyes using her ringed fingers to air quote. “You come in. You sit in one of the back booths. You order the same whiskey…” she pointed to her glass that hovered in the space between the bar and the woman’s mouth. “…but only one glass that you sip on for hours. You come to the bar, sit, order another drink and within minutes you’re leaving with the lucky lady of the week.” She paused smirking at Sophie’s gaping mouth. “So, what brings you to the bar on a Wednesday?” 

“I- uhm.” What the fuck? Sophie’s mentally going through the times she’s been here at the bar, and she swore she hadn’t been noticed; besides Reagan and whatever woman she took home on that night. 

“Well while you figure it out…I know you don’t need my help, but there’s a really pretty blonde at your three o’clock making an ass of herself to get your attention.” She winked before moving along to another customer. 

Sophie was stuck on the alarming number of details the woman had known about her. Maybe, she needed to back out of this completely. She looked over to the woman to her right and lifted her glass toward her before gulping down the entire thing. 

No more than thirty seconds later was the woman next to her, stool be damned, practically in her lap. This, she was used to, women throwing themselves at her, while she got her release and got the hell out of wherever it happened. It was almost comforting until it wasn’t. Because she was technically on the clock and she wasn’t accomplishing her to-do list. 

“Wanna get out of here?” She whispers into her ear while she’s focused on the bartender smiling at the next customer who’s just complimented her eyes. 

“I’m good here.” 

By the time Ryan’s made her way around the bar, Sophie’s glass is empty as is the seat next to her. 

“You’re still here?” She shakes her head. “You want another?” 

“Give me one word to describe your day.” The change in conversation came out of nowhere. 

“Huh?” The confusion evident on her face. 

“One word to describe your day. Preferably one that alliterates.” 

She squints. “Weird.” 

“Weird Wednesday?” Sophie pauses and thinks. “That’s lame. Try again.” 

“Wild. Wild Wednesday. As in it’s wild that you turned down getting some action. Must be off your game since it’s not your usual night.” 

“Wild Wednesday.” She muses ignoring the rest of the woman’s imagined explanation. 

“If you say it’s lame again, I’m charging you double for your next drink.” She crossed her arms. 

“I was just going to say…it’s not that wild but could get Wild-er.” She chuckles to herself awkwardly, cheeks warming at the embarrassingly lame joke. 

“Now who’s lame.” She eyed her strangely. “You know my last name. How?” 

“Oh, I’ve heard other bartenders say it.” She lies maintaining her stoic mask. She shrugs as if it’s the simplest explanation. 

Ryan’s face expresses that she doesn’t entirely believe her. She needed a segue. Here was her chance. Her attempt to get to know someone. As friends, or whatever. 

“So…” 

Ryan interrupted. “Listen, if you want another drink, I can get that for you, but I don’t do small talk and you’re not my type.” 

“Er- I uhm…wasn’t. I mean I didn’t- don’t. That’s not…” She hadn’t even been trying to hit on her. She was just trying to make conversation which she obviously wasn’t good at. The fact that Ryan clearly wasn’t interested, stung a little more than she expected. Don’t sleep with her. Well that wasn’t going to be a problem. 

“If you wanted to get laid, you should have taken the blonde home. It would have been a guaranteed yes.” She wiped down the counter and poured Sophie another drink. 

Sophie took a sip and nearly choked. "So, this is karma?" 

“No.” She laughed. “This is probably just your first time being rejected.” She gently placed a placating hand on Sophie’s. “It’s nothing personal.”