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Find me.
6
Antonio
I walkinto the smoky strip club, my eyes adjusting to the seductive play of shadows. Finding a seat at the bar, I check out the bartender. His face shows his countless sleepless nights and hard work, with lines that tell stories of his past. He's rocking a worn leather vest over a black shirt, showing off his rebellious spirit. His hair, once brown, now has silver streaks that hint at his age. It's slicked back with precision, showing his attention to detail. The neatly trimmed beard adds a touch of rugged sophistication to his look.
As I meet his gaze, I notice his red, bloodshot brown eyes that have seen years in this nighttime world. But there's also a hint of wisdom behind that fatigue, as if he's been through it all and won't be easily fooled.
He comes over, moving with efficiency and experience. "What can I get you?" he asks, his deep voice slightly echoing in the club's buzz as he wipes down the counter.
"Whiskey, neat," I reply, keeping my voice steady while scanning the club.
He nods and turns to grab a bottle from the top shelf - a quality bourbon. He handles it like a pro who's spent years behind the bar. Pouring the whiskey with practiced ease, he fills a heavy tumbler made of cut glass, the amber liquid shining under the low lights. He places the glass in front of me on a small coaster with precision that shows respect for his craft.
The whiskey has a rich, inviting aroma, and as I take a sip, the smooth, complex flavors of oak and smoke wash over my palate. It's a brief, much-needed distraction. While sipping my drink, I casually pull out my phone, and show the bartender a photo of Natalia.
I shift in my seat, trying to keep my voice casual. "Have you seen her around?" I ask.
He leans in, studying the photo intently. The neon lights from the beer sign above the bar cast a hazy glow on his face, giving him a mysterious edge. "Nice girl. I'd remember her if I had crossed paths with her. Sadly, I can't say that I have," he says, shaking his head slightly as if regretful. "This is a pretty stable town, except for tourists that come to ski – strangers come and go all the time. It's hard to keep track."
My heart sinks, but I refuse to give up hope. "Finding her means a lot to me."
"I hear you," he nods in understanding. "This place attracts all sorts of people in tourist season – some looking to have fun and enjoy the slopes, some running from their pasts, others chasing after something they've lost. And sometimes, they leave just as quickly as they appear."
"Where would you start looking for her around here if you were me?"
"Well... there are a few places she might be, but they're not exactly safe if you're going alone."
"Any lead will help," I stress.
"There's a fight club on the west end of town that operates on weekends. It's run by some shady characters – someone there might've seen her."
I nod, not surprised but still disappointed. Pulling out some bills, I leave them on the counter – more than enough for the drink that sits in front of me. Old habits die hard; money was always just a means to get answers.
The bartender nods in acknowledgement, his eyes briefly meeting mine with a hint of understanding. He's seen his share of haunted men like me, searching for someone or something that seems just out of reach.
My focus isn't on the drink swirling in front of me or the pulsating club atmosphere. It's solely on finding any shred of evidence, any faint trace that might lead me closer to Natalia.
After a brief but fruitless conversation, I take my untouched drink and retreat to a booth at one shadowy corner of the club. From this vantage point, I can discreetly observe every patron entering the club. Each new face is a potential lead, every overheard snippet of conversation a possible clue.
The scent of alcohol and perfume hangs heavy in the air, thick enough to taste. The pounding bass of the music threatens to drown out my thoughts, but I refuse to let it distract me. So far, every lead has been a dead end, but I'm determined not to give up.
An exotic dancer catches my eye as she glides towards me; her hair falling down her back like molten gold, and her movements fluid and seductive. She leans in close, her voice dripping with honeyed tones. "Can I get you anything, handsome?"
I barely acknowledge her presence, my mind consumed with Natalia – her fiery spirit, the way her eyes lit up when she was passionate about something. This dancer, though nice enough, pales in comparison.
I pull up Natalia's photo on my phone once again. "Have you seen this woman around town?" I ask.
She studies the image briefly before shaking her head. "I don't think so, but if I do come across her, I'll be sure to let her know someone is looking for her." Her tone is now tinged with sympathy.
"No thanks," I reply curtly, knowing she means well but not caring to hide my lack of interest. Her smile falters for a moment before she moves on to another customer who is more receptive to her charms.
I lean back against the hard, worn leather booth, frustration gnawing at me. Every lead, every tip, has turned into a dead end. The search for Natalia is like chasing a ghost – always just out of reach.
I take another sip of the whiskey in front of me, its burn a very pastime temporary break from my relentless worry. The club around me is a blur of pulsing lights and throbbing bass, but it feels hollow. It's nothing like the life I had with Natalia. Our moments together were intense, filled with a passion that I've never experienced with anyone else.
A group at a nearby table laughs loudly, breaking through my thoughts. They're carefree, enjoying the night, oblivious to the desperation that's been my constant companion for weeks now. I watch them for a moment, envy mingling with my frustration.
