The Devil's Bargain

His index finger traces the edge of the smooth marble counter on the bar as he approaches. I can sense he wants to make a move, but a small smile suffices it seems, and he walks past me, over to the other side of the bar and sits opposite me on the counter. I meet his eyes. I can see the raw desire behind them, calling, demanding. It is like he wants me to want to make the first move. He’s playing a very dangerous game here.

I take the last sip of my fourth mojito and order another. My visit to the bar was to ice out all the drama in my life right now. Ever since my single mother passed, my life sort of began to crumble like the chaff of a summer threshing floor. Just earlier today, I was fired from a marketing firm I have been working for, for the last six years, my boyfriend is a shit head who only cares about his reputation and a girl who just got fired isn’t a nice picture to hold onto.

Honestly, I am still waiting for his break-up text. I’ve waited for one for over a year, surprised I gave him that long to prove his love for me, yet nothing has changed and I don’t have the guts to end a relationship I’ve so much hoped would turn over a new leaf. I love him, he just doesn’t love me back. I roll my eyes in annoyance and frustration as I down my drink and order yet another.

The bartender slides over two glasses of Satan’s whiskers instead, declares it is heavy on gin then points over at the gentleman across from me. He waves at me, wearing a nefarious smirk that oh so drives me crazy, I admit. But I am not one to make the first move, heck, act desperate just for sex in the bloody name of pleasure. It doesn’t sound so bad come to think of it, but is that what I want?

I raise up one glass and thank him. He knew I really needed something stronger than I was treating myself to. He mouths a welcome before sipping the last few drops of his scotch then turns and walks out of the club which I find absurd. That is not how it plays out. Does he want me to follow behind?

After finishing the two glasses, I call on to the bartender to pay for my drinks. I am roaring drunk, relying on my blurred vision to get around and I secretly congratulate myself for achieving my goal.

“Your drinks have already been paid for, miss. Can I call you a cab?” the bartender says.

Still perplexed, I shake my head and answer, “No, thanks. I’ll take care of myself from here on.”

“The gentleman left this for you.”

He hands me a crimson envelope, just like the one I got this afternoon after I came home from the store. I take it from his hands and immediately rip it open with so much aggression and impatience.

I feel you; I see you,

Take a good view,

And get lost through,

But do not subdue,

Because I got you.

I give you one more chance,

Password is a word on the street.

Turn me over,

And oh, you’ll get what you truly desire.

The bartender watches me as he wipes the glasses, a curious look dances by his eyebrows as he registers the look on my face. I am left appalled. How does he know what I desire? And who the bloody hell is he? I look down at the card and wipe off the dust at the back. The name is not Dustin, but Devlin this time, and a new desire below the name.

“Remember at your highest moment, the devil makes his move,” the bartender whispers solemnly, forcing me to look back up, but he is nowhere in sight.

Suddenly, an intense wave of fear washes over me and I stumble back as I look around. I’m not sure if it is the extreme intoxication, or if it is really happening in front of my eyes. The bar clears and I am left alone. The dim yellow lights change to blue, centred, making me the spotlight in a now dark room.

“Love,” a disembodied voice whispers in the dark, which startles me and makes me clutch tight on my purse by my chest.

“Support,” it goes again.

“To be seen and heard.”

I try to look over into the darkness, hoping to see the person playing tricks on me. Nothing!

“A sense of self,” the disembodied voice continues.

“Independence!”

How does he know all that I want?

“A man. A life!”

It suddenly grows cold inside. The blue lights change to red and an eerie feeling invites itself over to this little party. Aside from that, a sense of comfort washes over me, ironically. My mind is now as clear as day, fresh out of my drunken stupor.

My dream plays before my eyes. All that I ever wanted calls on to me, yearning and very persuasive. I feel like I can stretch my hand over and I’ll catch that dream, keep it locked up close until I make it a reality, but my reverie is cut short by a silhouette in the darkness. I recognise that red tie from earlier.

The man stays hidden in the shadows, his hands casually put together in front of him, his left-hand fidgeting with the silver cufflinks on the right sleeve of his black shirt.

“What if I told you I can make it happen?” His voice is deep, smoky and fruity, he can easily make a girl beg him to speak again. And I want him to speak again, I really do.

He walks closer, the red light illuminates his handsome face. A naughty smile plays about by his lips as he rubs a thumb across the side of them. His eyes scream a sort of wanting darkness as they stare into mine. I suddenly want to agree to what he is saying because I want it all, I want it now!

“You can’t keep ignoring my summons, Ria. I know what you want and I can give it you.” He circles me slowly, his hot breath caressing my exposed neck skin.

He knows my name too?

“How can you possibly know what I want?”

My breath hitches in my throat when his hands snake their way from my back to my waist then my stomach. He pulls me to him, and I can feel his body warmth on my back. He brings his head to the right side of my face and whispers in my ear, “I know everything about you, Ria.”

“But I don’t know you.”

“Trust me, you do, but just as vaguely as a shadow.”

We begin moving in rhythm of a slow song except, there is no song playing. He then turns me around to face him, his index finger caressing my cheek.

“Why do you want to help me?”

He shrugs, his naughty smile mesmerising me, confusing me. “I don’t!”

I scrunch my eyebrows.

“You came to me for help, remember?”

His hand moves from my cheek to my forehead as if he’s trying to jog a memory.

“Close your eyes, Ria.”

We continue swinging side to side in the same imaginary music as he invades my mind. I comply, closing my eyes as per his command and try to remember ever walking up to someone like him who can render me speechless by just a single glance. Something comes up gradually.

“Ms. Vega, can you make that call you were asked to make, I don’t know, like three weeks ago?” my manager snaps at me for the third time that day.

I roll my eyes and pick up the phone to make the call. How did I even forget? I usually get things done as soon as possible. I frantically search for the sticky note the details of the call were jotted down before someone answers the call.

“Hello, can I help you?” a small female voice responds on the other side of the phone.

I sigh in relief when I get a hold of it just as she answers.

“Yes, please. Can you connect me to your boss, Mr. Memphis?”

“Who is calling?”

“Marie Marketing Company. Mr. Memphis had agreed to sign a deal with us to help advertise his business?”

I hear the annoying flicking of the office mouse she is using over the phone as she probably seeks for such a deal on the records. Then it stops.

“I’m sorry, Ms. He signed the advertising deal over six months ago with a different marketing company. There must be a mistake.”

I sit upright. “That’s not possible. The deal was ours. He agreed to the Marie’s three weeks ago.”

“You should probably check the number you’ve…”

“Don’t tell me how to do my job. Connect me to your boss immediately we set this right.”

“I am afraid he’s not in at the moment…. Jessica, who’s on the phone? … Some lady from a marketing company called Marie. She claims you had agreed into a dealership with them? … Connect her to me, now!”

Relief floods over me when I hear the man over the phone. My job depends on this dealership. If I don’t get it after failing the last four times, signing zero contracts in over two months, I would get fired. I was bringing the company down after being such an asset for over five years. I had to set this right.

“Yellow!”

“Sir, this is Marie Marketing Company. You had agreed into a dealership with us over three weeks ago. I was just calling to confirm if you’ve signed your contract yet.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember ever agreeing to a contract with your company.”

“But, …. Please, sir. We need your contract; I promise you we will deliver more than the other company you signed with. We need you.” I am so desperate at this point.

“The company or you?”

“Both, sir,” I say, trying to sound as professional as possible.

“Really? I have a feeling the company is at its peak. You on the other hand, I feel you are desperate, at the nadir of your career.”

“Please, Mr. Memphis. I’ll do anything for you. Just please help me not get fired.”

There’s a short silence, a shift of material on the other side and then he responds, “I can help you, but not keeping you from getting fired. If you are willing to do anything for me in return with no hesitation, I’ll help you.”

“Yes, sir! Please, anything.”

“It’s a deal then, Ria. I’ll reach out.”

And the line goes dead.

I gasp out of my trance, my eyes jolt open and I meet his, cold and nefarious.

“Mr. Memphis?” I whisper.

“Hello, Ria.” His voice is so sweet I want to keep him talking.

“Is this how you’re helping me?”

His finger traces the line of my cheekbone as he nods.

“But I can’t possibly have anything that you need in return. I’m practically poor,” I defend myself.

He leans forward and plants a kiss on the same cheekbone he’s tracing before saying, “Don’t worry too much about that. You’ve all I need.”

Cold air sweeps by swiftly and now the bar is filled again and Mr. Memphis is gone. The bartender’s back is facing me as he flirts with a girl on the other side of the counter just next to where the mysterious man had sat earlier. I am no longer sober, just wasted and bewildered. Did I just sleep while I was standing? Did I just fantasise with the man responsible for my trusted company giving me my cards?

I look over around, noticing that nobody is sharing the weird sense of discomfort and perplex. Everything is still normal to them. I look down to my hand where I am holding the crimson envelope the bartender handed me earlier. When I try to open it again to confirm if what I just experienced was real, my phone vibrates in my purse. I slump down on the bar stool as I take it out. It is a text from my boyfriend, Michael.

I hate to do this babe, but I am afraid we are done…