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doors of the bar. The burly man stood outside as he had the previous night. I nodded my thanks as he held the door open for me even as his beady eyes appreciated my dress.
    For a Saturday night the bar was exceptionally quiet. A few crowds mingled around tables that they’d pushed together.
    I smiled at the barman I’d met the night before, the one I suspected was gay. His lips twitched when he caught sight of me, and he raised a manicured eyebrow while rubbing his fingers over his black goatee beard. His light blue eyes twinkled with amusement.
    There was no sign of Marc. We hadn’t agreed on a time, but I still experienced a tug of disappointment.
    “Alright, love?” he smirked knowingly.
    “What are you fucking smirking at?” I asked through a toothy smile, as if I had said something pleasant to him. He nodded and folded his arms across his chest, revealing perfect white teeth, clearly impressed by my direct approach.
    “Nothing, love,” he shrugged. “You wanna’ glass a red wine?”
    He was obviously amused by something and I started to feel irritated, not only by his attitude but his thick cockney accent.
    “Yes, please,” I said in polite tone, wishing I could reveal my fangs— that would wipe the stupid grin off his face.
    He sauntered along the bar, his hips swinging in a perfect rhythm to the dance tune coming through the speakers. He returned with my wine after a couple of minutes and placed the glass down in front of me on the lit bar top.
    “So are ya’ ‘ere to see Marc then?” The smirk returned to his lips after he spoke. He rested his elbows on the bar top in front of me, settling in for a chat.
    “Oh, you know him?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
    He giggled at my question. He enjoyed playing cat and mouse with me, laughing at my lack of knowledge.
    “Glad I amuse you, err?” I cocked my head to the side gesturing my hand in his direction.
    “Ryan.”
    “Ahh, Ryan. He did tell me he comes in everyday, so that’s how you know him, huh?”
    He snorted. “He’s my bloody boss, darlin’. He owns this place. Well, this bar and a few other places.”
    I kept my face expressionless and nodded. This clearly guy enjoyed having information that I didn’t and I refused to allow him to see my surprise.
    “Cool, anything else I need to know?” I took advantage of the opportunity Ryan gave me. It hadn’t taken me long to figure out that he delighted in gossiping, all but confirming my suspicion about his sexual orientation.
    He leaned his head closer to mine, his fake tanned face illuminated by the glowing counter. He looked around dramatically as though there could be a man in a tan raincoat, wearing sunglasses, watching and waiting for the information he was about to tell me.
    “His family, they’re, well, they’re a bit, you know— strange ,” he whispered, glancing around again after he’d finished.
    “He’s bloody lovely though, mate, nice bloke. They’re just, so, well—” His voice had returned to a normal volume as he furrowed his brow, tapped his lower lip with his index finger and turned his eyeballs up to the ceiling searching for a word. “Italian,” he exclaimed taking his finger off his mouth pointing into the air. “They remind me of something out of the fuckin’ Godfather,” he said as if he needed to explain his comment further.
    I threw my head back and laughed.
    “Ooooh, Ryan! You ain’t ‘alf a gossip,” I said imitating his accent while flapping my hand down in his direction.
    The seriousness wiped off his face as he shared my laughter, his eyes twinkling with mirth. He did a catwalk style stroll down the bar to serve another customer without uttering another word.
    I sipped the wine, the warmth slid down my throat with ease, taking the edge off my nerves.
    An intoxicating, familiar scent flooded my nose. Raising my shoulders, I closed my eyes as a smile crossed my lips.
    He had arrived.
    Marc’s warm hand grasped my shoulder.
    “Hello,” he