Swan Song Read Free Page A

from a lady’s glass without asking – that’s rude.”
    He sets the glass down in front of himself, showing no signs of returning it. “You weren’t drinking it.”
    “I was going to.”
    “No, you weren’t. You let it sit for over ten minutes without touching it. The ice has melted.”
    “I like it with a little water.”
    “You don’t like it at all.”
    I raise my eyebrows. “My, aren’t you an Abercrombie? Care to enlighten me on any more of my likes or dislikes?”
    He abruptly pushes the glass in front of me. “Take a drink.”
    I don’t like being told what to do. I don’t like being called out on being a liar either, even when I am. Especially when I am. I pride myself on being an excellent liar and to have this total stranger catching me at it peeves me.
    I keep my eyes on his as I take up the glass, put it to my lips, and take a long sip.
    I want to gag. I want to spit it back in the glass. I want to throw it in his smug, watchful face. Instead I drink it down. I keep my face blank and easy. I even lick my lips as I set the now nearly empty glass back down with a muffled thud onto the thick table cloth, retrieving every last drop of the vile stuff from my mouth as though it were a honey I don’t want to lose an ounce of.
    “Not only are you quite the canary,” he tells me slowly, his mouth twitching into a half smile. “But you are one hell of an actress. I almost believe you enjoyed that drink.”
    “I loved it.”
    His smile grows as he runs his thumb along his lower lip. The smoke from his cigarette propped between his fingers dances with the movement, back and forth. Back and forth. It creates an undulating curtain of white in front of his eyes, making them look opaque. Dead. “A girl in your profession, I imagine you pretend to enjoy a lot of things you don’t particularly like.”
    “Like this conversation?”
    “Are you not enjoying my company?”
    “You wouldn’t know it if I wasn’t.”
    He chuckles. “I’m getting a fair idea that you’re not.”
    “Yet you’re still here,” I say, feigning amazement.
    “That’s because I am enjoying this conversation.”
    “Bully for you.”
    He examines me for a long time, his face completely blank. Part of me starts to sweat inside, wondering if I’m pushing him too far. These guys, they love a girl with a pretty face and a smart mouth, but it’s a tightrope walk. It’s easy to go too far. Teasing can turn to insult, which they are quick to turn to injury, which means you have to watch yourself. You have to be cunning and very, very careful.
    “What’s your name, Adrian?” he finally asks quietly.
    I shake my head, snubbing my cigarette. “No dice. You already have two of my names and now you want another? I don’t even have my first from you.”
    “Drew.”
    “It’s not your only one, is it?”
    “No.”
    I lean forward on the table, dropping my voice conspiratorially. “Why do you think it is that we have so many names?”
    He leans forward as well, coming farther into the light where I can see him better. He’s rougher than I thought. There’s stubble on his face, a small scar on his cheek to match the one on his neck, and fine lines around his eyes that age him beyond his years.
    “Because we’re playing the game,” he tells me softly, “and you should never play the game with anything that’s real.”
    “That’s very deep,” I whisper, lowering my voice to pull him in closer. “Where’d you get that? Shakespeare? Mark Twain?”
    “Felix the Cat.”
    I laugh before I can stop myself. It’s full bodied, loud, and too honest for this time of night.
    “Be careful,” he warns with a smile that’s surprisingly warm in contrast with his eyes. “That right there, that was real.”
    “How do you know? Maybe it was whiskey.”
    “Maybe. But I doubt it.”
    “And I’ll never tell.”
    “I doubt that too.”
    I sigh theatrically, sitting back in my seat. “It must be incredibly convenient to know