LEO'S POINT OF VIEW.

If not for papa's wishes, I'll never be in this formidable place called Keght, the capital of Tarleton. Since I've arrived, absolutely everyone has been so obnoxious and outright nosy, the idea of 'mind your fucking business' doesn't apply in this city. Like the woman who approached me for no substantial reason to get my number and the same day a driver who was driving past asked me if I was heading somewhere.

What's wrong with these people?
If it were in Pearlbot or mostly Brechfield, that woman knows better than to approach a stranger for their number less she'll be killed the following day or right at the spot.

Growing up I've known so little about Tarleton, although it never crossed my mind that what the tutors mentioned this place is true, how the law enforcers lurk every nook and cranny of the city, it's truly damn appalling seeing this.
What I can bet is this, as far as I'm here, to take charge of the family business and the hotel which will eventually fall into my hands this coming week, the first thing I'll surely do is get rid of all incompetent employees and loquacious workers too, the less they know, or ask, the better.
Just a few days ago, my papa died, which automatically leaves me to handle the family's business, his estates, and quarter of his property across Pearlbot, Brechfield and significantly Tarleton. As the successor and only son, all my life I've dedicated it to honoring papa, his legacy, and most importantly making him proud of everything I do. He was a stringent and disciplined father, being a nuisance isn't a characteristic of his son. The man even made me promise at his deathbed to keep his legacy stronger than it had been while he was still alive and so did I. With two days left to be inaugurated publicly as the new chairman of the hotel, I deserve a drink to mark this surreal milestone of my father's dreams finally acting.

A loud honk from a Jeep nearby shattered my thoughts, which began with me staring at the glowing sign that reads "Guy's bar". Typical of Axel to recommend a place with this sort of name. I step through its glass doors which instantly makes me regret my decision, everywhere is occupied, both the booths and stools that's situated across the room, opposite the wooden counter. My eyes scan everything, drifting from wooden table to wooden table, the chatter of drunk men so deafening.
Axel's taste is not bad, but I rather drink at home or somewhere else...less engaged. As I retort to leave, someone calls out, "Excuse me sir", a trace of suspicion evident in his tone. Has someone recognized me?
I give them my attention.

The eager caller before me is a short, slender man in a similar uniform as the blonde bartender behind the counter. The name "Daniel" is inscribed on a silver tag which is pinned to the breast pocket of his white shirt.
"Yes?" I demand.
"You shouldn't leave". "I believe you're worried about the space, we have an available booth, specifically in a secluded area if you like, sir".

"Ha!!" I exclaim in satisfaction, I wasn't about going home to drink, it'll be effortlessly distracting by having no choice than to get some work done like unpacking for instance, something I very much don't want to get involved with as of the moment.
"Shall we?" the waiter inquire.
I nod in reply after contemplating the offer.

He leads me past tables to the right wing of the bar where a booth happens to be at a corner, truly secluded from prying eyes, the perfect location to discuss business my type, without someone listening on our conversation.
It's not until we eventually round the corner that I see the entrance to the round booth with brown leather seats and polished wooden table just like the others, an unusual design.

The gray walls are covered with bamboo sticks with artificial plant vines spiraling each and instead of ear deafening music like most bars at Pearlbot have, here it's smooth, calm low, relaxing.
After Daniel takes the order and leaves, not a minute later, muffled yawns emerge around me, at first, I conclude it should be from the other customers but when the coughs and another yawn ring out, I trace them to where it's coming from, deducing it to the opposite seat of my booth. Something or better still, someone is here.

I take a peek below to check what it may be, my eyes land on something strange on the other side, I stare harder which eventually leads my keen vision to deciphering the creature's legs, human legs dangling from the seat.
I stand carefully, quietly to see who it may be, I don't want someone coughing and weirdly yawning all of a sudden when I'm at a galloping pace with liquids.

There on the seat, sprawled on the ottoman, is a young lady, her curly black hair covering most of her face, a fool will know she's so drunk seeing how she's passed out here.
I shake my head.
The waiter comes back to where I'm seated, my bottle of martini and glasses balanced on the tray in his hands, when he's done setting everything down, I motion for him to see what's at the other side of the table. On seeing the lady, he rolls his eyes and promised me he'll be back in a second. The way he rolled his eyes without removing the huge chunk of hair covering her face to know who it is, he definitely knows her, a regular?

I pour one shot, drown it, another goes down in one gulp, the second, and third follow the same pattern.
I release a sigh of satisfaction, one that fit exquisiteness with how relaxed I feel now. This month has taken a terrible toll on me, from papa's death, to my mother and sisters avoiding me, if I'm being honest to myself, this drinking isn't entirely a celebration, it's more of downing my loneliness and pain.

Another shot to the loneliness, here's to the pain.

From the corner, I see Daniel the waiter and a worried looking man, the bartender I sighted at the moment I walked in. They are approaching this booth in haste, judging from how upset the bartender looks, it means he also knows something about this lady, no worker should frown like that neither in the midst of customers nor to an absurd customer. Even though they're being a pile of mess, they're still customers and papa said, their priorities comes first even before the workers own as far as we're serving them in exchange for their money or maybe Tarleton is also as deficient in simple manners.

I couldn't help thinking, what will have happened to this lady to make her get drunk to a stupor like this. She's the only woman here to begin with.
According to my buddy, Axel, who has stayed in this city for a while now, he said ladies of Tarleton are prim and proper. At least, the example is everywhere, the way they talk, their dressing style consisting of these branded suits and clicking high heels all dolled up like display mannequins.

Brechfield women don't come close to this, but what makes her contradict the current conditions?!, stupidly different to come here?
I'm more than inquisitive to know.

"Sorry for the inconvenience sir, she'll head home this instant" the blonde bartender with Ben inscribed on his tag says sheepishly. He goes to the other side of the booth, griping her and shaking thoroughly before I see her crouching figure sluggishly going above the table, in sight on the upholstery.
As she raised her face, I feel myself almost choking on the liquid that's going down my esophagus.

"Where am I ?" She asked, her eyes still shut.

"My goodness!, open your eyes Eleanor" the bartender snap, he sure knows her.
She reluctantly does as she is told, reminding me of how Sara did when mama drags her out of bed, just like a child.
Suddenly, she stops short and shut her eyes as if the light burnt her eyes.
I suppress a laugh at this.
I come to get a drink, but see a show in bonus.
How intriguing.

Then she does what I can't decipher, she sniffs around, taking wistful of breaths, stalking toward me and stops short, her eyes flick open instantly.
"Fragrance guy?!" she asked
I look to the waiter and bartender but they stare back at me in surprise too.

==========

Thank you for reading this far.
~Darasimiwrites.