“How’d you-“ The auburn haired man begins to ask.

“If you say, “How’d you end up here tonight?” I. WILL. LOSE. IT!” The bartender whips around with a shout. Her hair tussled up in a messy bun. Sweat coating the back of her neck as the pulsing techno beats assault her ears.

“Well I… I thought it was good…”. The auburn haired man responds, his cheeks a crimson red. He sheepishly sits down on the barstool.

“I’m sorry… I was being rude… uh.. it was… good” the bartender adds haltingly as she begins to cut a lime into eighths.

“No…. It wasn’t.. you wouldn’t say that if you weren’t being honest.” The man continues, “Be honest, how often do you hear that?”

This actually prys a chuckle from the bartender. “14 times this month, three times this weekend.”

The man chuckles back. “Well I thought it was witty.”

“So do all of the other men.”

“No offense to your clientele, but I’d wager I’m smarter than about half of them.” The man says raising his eyebrows.

“Really?” The bartender asks finally looking up from her limes. Her voice has a fun challenge air to it. One that the man knew all too well.

“Yep, smart enough to say I’ll be back again, keep you waiting….” The man flirts, getting up from his stool. He adjusts his thin wire glasses only minutely on his thin nose bridge. “And this time we’ll stay away from shop talk.”

“Oh really?” The bartender asks, her eyes laser focused to the man.

“I’m also smart enough to never keep a girl like you waiting too long.” The man states with a wink.

He strides over to the nearby door and leaves with a smile.

The bartender takes her 20 and steps out of the techno music fever dream into the cold alley. Of course she’s not stupid enough to think she can catch another glimpse of him. However, she finds her cheeks blushing red despite the wintery air.

Night after night the man comes back. True to his word they never talk about her job or his. Also true to his word he makes a point to show her his advanced intellect.

“That man, that man over there, he’s cheating on his wife, it’s his first time doing it though, look how sweaty he looks!” The man whispers about a middle aged man on the dance floor with a much younger woman.

“Really? Is a man not allowed to be nervous?” The bartender asks her chin resting on her hands as she leans over the counter.

“Well yeah, he actually should be, but look, he’s constantly looking down at his phone, and he has ring shaped outline in his pocket.” The man challenges back.

“Wow, you’re quite the Sherlock aren’t you?” The bartender boldly asks.

“I’m ok with being the Watson, he gets the girl anyway.” The man smoothly responds, reaching over to touch the bartenders free hand. Even more boldly he slides a thin piece of paper with his number in it.

Now, Night after night, in fact, every night the bartender is free the two spend hours with each other, talking about anything. Besides work obviously.

“Ok.. ok… so, one night… when you’re free from your…not…job do you want to be my plus one to my cousin’s wedding?” The man asks as the two drink their hot chocolate, the cold frozen streets sprawled ahead of them.

“Uh….wh-“ the bartender begins looking up at the man.

“I know it was stupid it’s only been like… two months… I’m… I’m sorry.” The man apologizes his face beet red.

“NO NO NO! I was just gonna say why not?” The bartender responds, with a wink in her eye. One that the man swears he has seen before.

Now, the night a month after the last, the pair enjoy the wedding revelry. The bartender wears her finest sage green colored dress and the man a sage green tie and suit that fits him akwardly.

The bartender looks into the man’s eyes that night and sees something different, a future maybe. A future with a charming man.

As she sat down to listen to the toasts, all the lovers sharing how the main couple had found love, inside jokes galore, a sinking feeling entered the bartender.

She knew what felt like nothing about the man. The air seemed to grow warmer and her cheeks redder.

After he applause and clinking subsided the bartender made a dash for the side door. As her dress grazed the icy ground in the ally she heard the door stay open behind her.

“Hey! Where are you going?” The man asks with concern.

“I don’t know! Away, I think!” the bartender says pacing back and forth. “I… I don’t even know you! I don’t know your last name, where you live, WHAT EVEN IS YOUR JOB?” The bartender anxiously shouts, stopping her pacing to face the man.

Contemplating, the man finally lets out a sigh. He’s grabs the bartender’s shoulders. Admittedly, to steady both of them.

“I am… by technical definition, a career criminal, a con artist. I came to your bar to profile out easy targets for theft. Either car or identity. That’s what I spend most of my day hours doing. If you’re mad I understand that, but it’s just my life. Oh, and my last name is Faulkner.”

The bartender barely skips a beat. “I don’t know if my standards are getting lower or you’re just so otherwise perfect because..” the bartender continues her thought by landing a long passionate kiss on the man. Their first after all these nights.

It wasn’t like the bartender wasn’t being truthful, she had fallen head over heels for this man. And truthfully, she felt a deep desire to make him succeed no matter what.

Two nights after that, the bartender resigns, claiming she wants to advance her career in a more upscale direction.

The man, not blind understands why, even if, consciously, she doesn’t.

“Seriously Jazz, you don’t have to do this for me!”

“I’m not, I’m not someone you can trick into thinking something you want.”

The bartender lands a job at an upscale hotel bar and lounge, of course the man visits her. Of course the man uses the nights to profile people.

Although, truthfully, as the bartender tossed and turned that night she quit , she had slowly began to wonder if she had fallen into this anti hero’s snares.

Truthfully, she wondered whether or not she’d want to leave.