| Title: Behind the Bar (1/1) Author: Lady Starblade -- [email protected] Rating: PG-13 Category: Drama Disclaimer: I do not own any of the mentioned characters. Just the narrator, who springs from my mind. I make no money. <whimper> Feedback: <Bambi eyes> Oh yeah! Author's Note: I finally got around to seeing "Ocean's Eleven" today, and this idea promptly leapt up and chomped down. I think this may be one of, if not the first O11 fic! Thrown together at 3am....it wouldn't let me sleep! Summary: "It's amazing what one can see from behind the bar...." ****************** It's amazing what one can see from behind the bar. We're invisible, you know. Unless their glasses get empty, the people who pass through here take very little notice of us. They come through, the men cloaked in silk suits and the women in diamonds and fur. Important whispers and coquettish glances are their language. I've been working the bar in the Bellagio Casino for almost four years now, and I have seen just about every type of human there is. Sooner or later, it seems everyone comes to Las Vegas. Or so I thought. I had never seen anyone like him before. He caught my eye the second he walked in. I still marvel at the fact that no one else seemed to notice him. Maybe everyone was too embroiled in their own personal dances. But him....he was a con man, all right. Those were a dime a dozen in a city like this. All with that particular air of nervous confidence, like someone who's desperate to make everyone believe that they're as cool as they act. This one was different. He was dangerous. But not the kind of vicious danger. Instead, it was the kind of danger that made women lose their heads and do crazy things. The bowtie on his tux was slightly skewed and rumpled, which told me it was usually undone. His hands were shoved down into his pockets, and his dark brown head was tilted down. Yet his eyes, which happened to be a very appealing shade of brown, were looking upward. Now here was a man who was both anticipating and dreading whatever he was heading toward. The loud clack of an empty glass hitting my end of the bar tore my attention away. It took me 30 seconds to refill the man's drink. I instantly swept the lounge, looking for him. I found him quickly, sitting down at a table, facing the bar. It was the table, and specifically the current occupant, that surprised me. The woman's name was Tess, and she was the current flame of the high and mighty master, Terry Benedict. And "flame" was the perfect tag for her. She was a stunning redhead with a smile that could blind the Strip. Add legs that could stop traffic, and it's no wonder Benedict was all over her. Normally she was the kind of woman that I hated on sight, but she was actually friendly. She bothered to talk to us menials every now and again and she always said "thank you." I cocked my head to one side, spitting out a wisp of my hair that had escaped from the bun. Time to put my observation skills to work. He was pleading with Tess. Not obviously, of course, but I could read it in his eyes. I had no idea what she was saying in return, but those beautiful eyes looked like, excuse the clich�, like the eyes of a puppy who's been kicked. I felt my forehead furrow in confusion. Why would Tess, the nice person she was, be mean enough to elicit a look like that? I began to look for clues. After all, being eagle-eyed is all part of being a bartender. Right off the bat, I saw a glint off of his left hand. A wedding ring. I started to nibble on the stubborn wisp. The rigid set of Tess' back and shoulders also spoke volumes. The only time I've ever seen women tense up like that was when they were dealing with an ex... Ah. I see. They had been married and then divorced. And he, it appeared, wasn't quite ready to let go. Or maybe he was sifting through the ashes, searching for any remaining spark. But if that was the case, he was out of luck. If there was anything still there on her end, she was damn good at hiding it. And I think he just realized it. Uh oh, here comes Benedict. I almost wanted to yell, to warn him to get out of the way before Benedict saw him. Looks like his streak of bad luck was continuing. I couldn't see what went on then; Benedict managed to completely block my line of view. Now, I may have very good eyes, but even I can't see through people. At least literally. When Benedict finally moved, the other man was up on his feet. This time, his head was tilted slightly upward, in that way that spoke of salvaged pride. Another clack. Damn, why did people have such a wonderful sense of timing? I could stand there for an hour and do almost nothing, and when I was trying to concentrate on something else, everyone started drinking like a fish. I turned back in time to see him heading for the exit, shoulders slumped in defeat. Remember when I said he could make women lose their heads and do crazy things? Well, I was a hair away from vaulting the bar. Those eyes were so sad, so hurt. Tess, how could you? Ex or no ex. I was so wrapped up in watching his exit that when his gaze suddenly met mine, I had to grab hold of the bar corner. I tried to give some kind of reassuring smile, but I have no idea how it really turned out. A corner of his mouth twitched upward, but it didn't reach his eyes. I couldn't help but wonder how they would look under better circumstances. And as he walked by, a part of my mind cried out, "Please wait....let me help." Anything to make those eyes smile. "Waddya gotta do to get a drink here!?" The drunken bellow, muted as it was, still startled me badly. I poured the drink and tried not to look back to the door. I worked behind the bar. And that is where I was supposed to stay. ******************* END |