Ally's Revenge (Part 1 complete, Part 2 in progress)

Chapter 3

*Picture: Google Image search, Paul Adelstein as Steven, Damien's childhood friend*

Chapter 3

Damien

"I thought you said she comes here every Thursday," I ask, or more like yell, to Steven.

"Luke is supposed to follow her and if she doesn't come here, he said he'd call." Steven said.

I look around the crowded bar. There are five booths along the back wall and he picked the one in the corner. Not obvious at all, right?

"We need to move," I say, still standing at the side of the table.

"What? Why?" Steven looks around the bar before shrugging and picking his mug back up.

"Haven't you ever heard of hiding in plain sight?"

"I've checked this place out: video surveillance everywhere except for this corner." Steven thinks he's some sort of FBI/CIA agent.

"Which is exactly why we need to move. See that post where the bar curves? If we sit beside that post the cameras won't get a clear picture."

"Oh, Mr. Know-it-all! You go ahead. I'm staying right here," he says as he drains his mug and motions for another.

"She's got five minutes and I'm out of here. I've got a bad feeling about this. I'll be at the bar, you know the signal."

I make my way across the slightly crowded room, carefully keeping my head down without drawing attention. I sit down next to the post at the bar in one of the old, worn out stools that probably looked like crap in the 70's when this place opened. There is a very mixed crowd in here: old men with ponytails and cabana shirts, young girls with dresses that I swear they made from their granny's drapes and a mixed group of 40-something men and women playing a bowling video game. Next to me is a man and woman, both covered with tattoos, and next to them is a Scottish man. The Scotty and the tattooed man are deep in conversation while the tattooed woman is playing a game on her phone, looking bored out of her mind.

Somehow, over the music and the loud bowling game group, I hear the signal that means she just walked in. It's something Luke, Steven and I used to do as kids in the woods to signal someone else was coming into our fort. It's a cross between a duck call and a whistle, once again, not too obvious, right?

I look towards the door and I swear my breath was knocked out of me. She was all curves and sex appeal. The kind of woman that was made for long nights in the bedroom. Long, wavy red hair to her waist, not the carrot top red either, the dark red that almost looks like blood, with the most amazing jade green eyes.

She walks up to the bar and says something to the bartender who gets a nice look down her shirt as she speaks to him. He turns around for a minute and then hands her a cup of ice. A cup of ice? Not a beer, or glass of wine...a cup of ice. Well, there goes the plan of waiting until she has a buzz to put the plan into action. Great.

I am thankful for the mirror behind the bar because I can watch her without turning around in my seat and making it obvious. I think I'm still in shock. I swear, this woman must have been made for me. She is about five foot four inches, and about one-hundred and forty pounds, all of which seems to be in her chest and butt. She has the most incredible hourglass figure, straight out of 1950's Playboy, but you can tell she is all natural. Luke and Steven said she is probably in her early thirty's or late twenty's even though she doesn't look a day over twenty-three.

All right, quit fantasizing and get to work.

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