Anti Hero

One sip of the cocktail and she could feel the weight of the world slowly melt away in the music and laughter of the crowd. The deadlines and fresh start with new clients from Monday morning were a tedious job for her. Having a supervisor whom she detested did not make it any better to motivate her to work hard. But she needed the money she made to run the house. She initially refused to come to the pub with her friends because it was a Sunday. She could not afford a hangover. But they were not to listen to her excuses. She was glad they kept in touch to remind her of the good old days. Although they never judged her financial position, their offer to pay for her, the expensive places she could not afford anymore, and their success often rubbed the wrong way on her once she was home in the small two-bedroom rented apartment. 

For the longest time in her life, she had believed that her father would turn things around. She believed it when he made poor business choices; she believed it when she had to leave their home for a small one, her elite school and all her friends for a decent private school, and finally, even when her mother left them for a richer husband. Her memories, the shouting, crying and betrayal still hurt her physically. Honestly, she pitied her father. He had been a good husband and father to them. Her mother abandoning them made her pity him even more. She was barely a teen, and he had been a hands-on dad to her.

She gulped down the glass and ordered another one, hoping to divert her mind to her dancing friends and the crowd around them. She allowed herself to slip back into the life she could have had now and then. She could drink, dance and pretend to be happy.  “Ajab.” Her friend shouted near her ear to reach her over the music, drowning their voices. “Come dance.” 

Adventure to the elite was weird. That is the conclusion Pratap drew from his friend's idea to hang out in a club below their usual crowd. It seemed too elitist and almost medieval for them to think of themselves as royals hanging out with their subjects for adventure. But he indulged. Because he knew once they were at the club, nobody bothered them. He could slip away whenever he wanted to, or if he found someone there, he could take her along to extend his night of adventure before forgetting about her the next morning. He had just managed to scan the room when his eyes fell on her on the dance floor. He eyed her keenly. She seemed to fit in, yet did not. Her black dress seemed to be a first copy of some designer brand, but the confidence she wore was unparalleled. Her wavy hair fell to her hips as they swung to the music. Her friend’s dance move made her chuckle. That was when Pratap noticed her smile was infectious.

Ajabdeh had just picked up her purse from the table and headed to the bar counter for another drink when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She glanced over her shoulder to find a well-groomed man in a casual black shirt and a pair of jeans smiling at her. Ajabdeh knew the drill. She smiled back, waving her hair away from her face a little flirtatiously. He would ask for a drink, then a dance and then, if the chemistry was sizzling enough, he would offer a ride to his place. She did not mind these momentary escapes where she pretended like she belonged. After all, she was a woman quite sorted between her needs and wants. She did not want a relationship. But she did have needs.

“Drinks?” She nodded as her eyes travelled to the watch on his wrist, which was an original limited edition. 

“I will have whatever she is having.” Ajabdeh heard him tell the bartender. 

“ I am…” Ajabdeh paused as he shook her head. 

“No introductions.” He said as he took the drinks and directed her to an empty table.

“Pardon?” Ajabdeh raised her brows suspiciously.

“See, we will introduce ourselves, then after a memorable night, we will end up looking at each other’s social media. Then we will start judging each other, and what can end in a beautiful story will end up being another messy, bad choice.” Ajabdeh laughed, tilting her head a little much to his relief. He had tried this on other women who huffed and puffed and left. 

“You find it funny?” He asked.

“No, just wondering; what if you are a serial killer?” She asked with an amused shrug. “What a shady thing to say to a woman you just met.”

“If I were a serial killer, would I pick up a girl who is out with her friends in front of so many witnesses? C’mon. Give my brain a little more credit than that.” He sipped the drink. It was lighter than his choice.

“I see. A true crime fan. Pleased to meet you.” Ajabdeh leaned forward as his eyes momentarily slipped from her face further down, and she smiled like she caught him off guard.

“Eyes up here.” She said, leaning back as he smiled faintly.

“Will that help accelerate the events of the night?” His question made her shake her head, slightly amused.

“I like how blunt you are.” She raised her glass. “To a memorable night and never seeing each other again.”

They clinked their glasses.