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This woman, in Gretel's eyes, exudes confidence. Someone intelligent, accustomed to swimming with sharks, capable of spotting them with just a glance. Gretel, however, doesn't see herself as a shark; she's more like a trout about to be ensnared in a fishing net, waiting to be gutted.
"Tequila here," the bartender announces, placing the tiny glass in front of the woman. She pours salt into her hand, licks it in a mesmerizing manner that captures Gretel's attention, and downs the shot in one go.
"Another one for me," the woman surprises the bartender, "and one for her too; I think she needs it."
"On it," the pale man responds to Gretel's stunned gaze.
"I'm Abigail," the stranger introduces herself before savoring the taste the lemon left on her lips.
"I'm Gretel," Gretel replies breathlessly, "like Hansel and Gretel, you know..." She waits for the usual mocking comment that people usually make upon hearing her name for the first time, but Abigail remains unfazed.
"Gretel," Abigail repeats, nodding. "I like it."
Before Gretel can say anything else, the bartender is already before them, filling two new tequila glasses. Although Gretel has never tried it, she doesn't hesitate, following Abigail's ritual – licking the salt off her hand, gulping the liquid in one go, and biting the lemon as the fiery liquid scorches her esophagus like a lava tongue.
"Damn," she mutters, placing the glass on the bar, feeling the heat redden her cheeks.
When she looks up, Abigail is watching her with the most incredible and captivating half-smile she has ever seen.
"You're the most fun I've had today," Abigail confesses, never breaking eye contact. "Bad day?"
"My husband just asked for a divorce," Gretel says between coughs. "How can you drink this stuff?"
Gretel grimaces, and Abigail lets out a genuine, deep laugh, the kind that comes from the core, leaving Gretel captivated once again.
"Two more!" she yells at the bartender across the bar.
"Are you crazy?" laughs Gretel, bewildered yet captivated by the executive's presence.
"The first one's the challenge, but the second one's a damn delight, you'll see," Abigail asserts with such certainty that Gretel can't help but believe her.
"Bad day for you too?" Gretel asks.
"I've had a bad year," Abigail responds with a sigh.
"Executive?"
"I guess my clothes give it away," Abigail replies, glancing at herself.
"And the briefcase," Gretel points out. "Can I ask what you do?"
"Family business. Supposedly, my two brothers and I are meant to run the company, but I'm the one doing the heavy lifting while they blow money on women, travels, and unjustifiable meals, and my father does nothing about it."
"Rough," Gretel comments, imagining the desperation of her new companion.
Two new shots appear, and Gretel realizes Abigail is right. She savors the second one with surprising finesse, though the alcohol's potent effects begin to flow through her veins, causing a slight dizziness. She runs a hand over her face and blinks a couple of times.
"Wanna play pool?" Abigail proposes.
"I'd love to."
Chapter 2
The two women rise and head toward the pool table. They leave Abigail's briefcase and jackets on chairs at a nearby table, and Gretel inserts a coin.
"Do you come here often?" Gretel asks while setting up the balls.
Abigail stares at them and suddenly realizes it's been so long since she played that she's forgotten the proper order.
