Charlie kept her head down as she walked, the rain chilly as it slipped down the back of her neck. Her heels wobbled a little on the cracked concrete, making it too difficult to run. She figured the cloudburst wouldn't last long enough to completely soak her anyway.

The water created dark splotches on her shirt. Grimly, she thought there was at least one upside here. The faux silk would dry quickly enough once she got inside.

The tendrils of auburn hair around her face were weighed down by the water, making her updo look much less sophisticated than it had when she'd left her apartment this morning. Or rather... her fiancé of five months' apartment.

Without Grayson, she wouldn't be where she was today. Which made her feel terrible.

Charlie crossed her arms, holding them against her stomach, trying not to think about it again, but unable to avoid doing so. He'd helped her so much, taking on most of the everyday bills and expenses, just so she could scrape together enough cash for school. Now she all but had the acceptance letter in her hand, and she knew she was a bad person because of it.

She cared about Grayson, she really did. He'd been there through every setback and trial. She'd slept in his bed more times than she'd slept in hers all through high school, trying to stay out of her parents' house.

How could something like that stop mattering? 

Charlie was slowly but surely coming to realize that she hadn't actually loved him for a long time. But she wasn't willing to let anything mess up her plans.

Her steps slowed as the apartment building came into view. Heels clicking loudly against the concrete, she dug her keys out of her purse. 

With her heart sinking into her stomach, she unlocked the main door and decided firmly against the stairs. Standing in the elevator, she was pretty sure they had pinched off the blood flow to her toes. She watched the old-fashioned dial tick steadily over to the fourth floor. As she waited for the doors to creak open, she wondered how much longer she could keep up the act.

Her feet hurt as she walked slowly to their door and stood outside. She inhaled once, held it, then blew it out quietly. Brushing the strands of hair that had stuck to her cheeks away from her face, she inserted her key into the lock.

She jiggled the key up and down, then twisted it. The damn thing still stuck on her. She swore, then frowned at the shuffling sounds from behind the door. Grayson must have gotten off work early.

Sighing, she tried the lock with a little more force. There was a small click and she closed her eyes. He would want to know how it went, and when she told him it went well, he'd want to celebrate.

She opened her eyes slowly, reluctance making her hesitate.

Really she shouldn't care. It wasn't like it was a huge sacrifice on her part. She had birth control, and it wasn't as if Grayson was repulsive. In fact, the opposite was true. With his soft blond hair and hazel eyes, he was the kind of guy you saw modeling overpriced t-shirts on posters in the mall.

Plus there was something to be said for familiarity. 

It was just that Grayson was a little... predictable. And, unfortunately, his lack of imagination was not made up for with passion on her part.

She plastered a smile on her face and opened the door.

To look straight through the combined living room kitchen space, into their bedroom. To find Grayson on the bed, naked, on top of some other woman. 

Charlie blinked a few times. Was she actually seeing this?

Her eyes found the splotchy birthmark just below his shoulder blade. Yes, she was actually seeing this.

The woman shrieked and Charlie's eyes went wide. She couldn't remember the last time he'd made her scream like that. She heard his own moaning breath a second later. She had to blink. She couldn't blink.

Grayson leaned down and kissed whoever was under him. "I'd die of cold if it wasn't for you."

Charlie took one careful step back, making sure her heels didn't click on the uneven wood floor. She forgot she'd left the door hanging open until she bumped into it, making it slam shut behind her.

Grayson looked over his shoulder, his face draining of all color when he saw it was her. The woman looked up, sweat gleaming on her high cheekbones. Her hair was red. Straight out of the box red.

He stood up quickly, his lips forming soundless excuses.

Charlie inhaled, and he flinched, like he did any time he was expecting tears. She blinked, wondering if that's what was about to happen. It kind of seemed like that's what should happen.

Instead, what really happened was she took off her engagement ring and threw it into the shallow dish they used to hold their keys. She frowned, looked once more at whoever he'd been screwing, then at him. Grayson opened his mouth again, but she beat him to it. 

Opening the door again, she said, "I'll be here for my stuff tomorrow. Leave it in the hall."

"Wait! Char—"

She slammed the door behind her, stalking back down the hall. 

Her mind was blank as she took the elevator back down, and stayed blank as she started walking down the damp sidewalk. Her heels still hurt. She realized she'd taken her key.

Charlie looked at the brass key. Her breath came a little faster, and she chucked it across the street. It flew a satisfying distance, barely missing a window as it clinked against the brick wall of a building. 

She spun on her heel, her steps steady as she started walking, then running down the street. Strands of hair pulled loose from her clip and she tore it out of her hair, throwing it down onto the sidewalk, too. She ignored the odd looks she got from the other pedestrians.

She had no clue where she was going. Her shoes bit at her, opening a stinging blister on her left heel.

After too many blocks for her to count, Charlie slowed down finally, her heart barely pounding in her chest. Blood seeped down the incline of her shoe, making her skin slippery and squelching around her toes with each step.

She looked around, ignoring any place that had neon lights on its face. 

Limping slightly, she continued walking down the street. She didn't know which street. She didn't care. Her mind still buzzing , her eye was caught by an open door with soft zydeco floating from the dark insides. A faded sign proclaimed it to be some kind of bar. She didn't care what its name was.

She walked up the two steps separating the entrance from the street, then stood just inside the door for a second, letting her eyes adjust to the dim lighting of the interior.

It smelled like spilled tequila and sawdust. It was perfect.

Two guys with beards and leather vests played pool on the far side of the bar. A few older-looking people were scattered around the small, intimate tables near the door. Charlie sighed and went over to the bar, edging herself up onto the stool nearest the exit. She was suddenly aware that she did not fit in very well here. One of the pool players was looking at her.

The bartender came over, and before he could even ask, she leaned her elbows on the counter, arms crossed. "Whiskey neat."

The guy, an older man with pure white hair and an impressive handlebar mustache, asked, "That bad?"

Charlie breathed out a laugh. She watched as he set down a glass and started to pour, the amber liquid a darker brown in the dim light. When he finally stopped pouring, she raised an eyebrow at him. He recapped the bottle and said, "You look like you've had a two-fingers kind of day."

She raked a hand through her damp, tangled hair and lifted the glass to her lips. "You, sir, are psychic."

He chuckled. "Nah. I just been around long enough to know a bad day when I see one."

She sipped at the drink, forcing herself not to grimace. Putting the glass down with a sigh, she frowned down at the scuffed wood of the counter, starting when the bartender asked, "Want to talk about it?"

Charlie looked up with a small, genuine smile. There was something about this guy that she instantly liked. Which meant she didn't feel like dumping all her problems on him. "Hell no," she said with a snort. "I just came here to not think about it..."

"Jedd," he offered when she trailed off.

"Jedd," she repeated, her smile growing by a fraction. What a perfectly rustic name for this perfectly rustic place.

"Holler if you need anything," he said, moving down the bar to help an older man with a faded tattoo on his forearm.

Charlie took another long sip, then discreetly checked her wallet. All she had was a ten. A flash of blue plastic caught her eye. A credit card. She had a brief, sour memory of Grayson insisting she take his card in case she needed anything today.

An evil grin curled her mouth as she tucked her wallet back into her purse. Then it fell away. She blew out a bourbon-laced breath. As much as she wanted to, she really couldn't blame Grayson. Technically, the only one she could blame was herself.

And yet, she couldn't bring herself to feel truly guilty about using him like she had. She drank again, wondering if this was karma, or if God just had a brutal sense of humor.

It really hadn't started that way.

At least, that's what she told herself. But the more she drank, the more she realized their relationship had started with using him as an excuse to stay out late and away from her father. 

So maybe it had started that way.

Before she realized what was happening, Jedd was topping off her glass. 

"I can only really pay for one," she said with a frown.

Quietly, so that the other patrons couldn't hear, he said, "It's on the house." Immediately, she balked, not liking the idea of charity, but Jedd gave her a stern look. "On the house."

She sighed and drank. Jedd gave her a kind smile, cleaning a shot glass. He started to say something, but someone over her shoulder caught his attention, and he raised a hand in acknowledgement. She watched as he frowned, husky-blue eyes flicking to her. He opened his mouth, but then the stool next to her was pulled up.

A whiff of aftershave hit her, and she looked down into her drink. It smelled expensive, the aftershave. She drained her glass.

The bartender reached across the counter and shook the man's hand. "Evenin', Remi."

"How's things, Jedd?"

Deep voice. Smooth. With just a hint of the bayou in it. Rolling, generous accent over rolling, generous words.

She had the vague thought that she should leave. 

"Same old," Jedd replied, setting a glass on the counter. "Can't complain."

"You had any more trouble with...?"

The fact that the question was trailed off interested her greatly. She still didn't look over, instead running her middle finger once around the rim of her glass. It was a little slick and she put the finger to her mouth.

Now she could feel eyes on her. 

Jedd smiled, flashing nice teeth. "Not a hint. Thanks to you."

"Ah, I didn't do nothin'," the man—Remi—said. "Anyway..." 

Again the voice trailed off. She felt his gaze slide over her, taking in her bedraggled hair and rain-damp clothes. She didn't look over.

"What'll you have?" Jedd asked. "The usual?"

"I'll have whatever she's having." The answer made her want to look over. She refrained. Jedd poured.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a tanned hand with long, elegant fingers and scarred knuckles wrap around the glass. Her middle finger traveled around the rim of her glass again.

"Another for the lady," Remi said.

Now she had to look over. Jedd ignored her as she tried to cover her glass with her hand, somehow slipping it away from her just to give it back, refilled. She glanced at the second glass, realizing she shouldn't keep drinking.

Her gaze was met by a pair of curious green eyes. Very pretty eyes, set in a very handsome face. Artfully tousled, decently short light brown hair. Expensive suit jacket. Silk shirt. Rolex. Leather shoes.

Money. Money. Money.

She was almost inclined to hate him.

"Don't tell me you were just leaving?" he asked. When she narrowed her eyes at him, he smiled, flashing straight teeth. White, but not too white. "You look like a woman with something on her mind."

"I've several things on my mind at any given time," she replied curtly. Without meaning to, she took a sip of the drink he'd ordered for her, and that smile grew a bit more.

He drank and Jedd moved down the bar. "Wanna talk about it?" Remi asked.

She looked up, then back at him, too wrung out to bother hiding her exasperation. "You don't even know me."

"Which only makes you more interesting."

Now she scoffed, but he refused to look abashed. She drank again, her veins warming.

"I don't mind," he said, voice low, accent like warm velvet.

"Maybe I do," she retorted. But she didn't walk away. She should walk away.

Remi made a small sound of amusement, then let a silence fall between them that the music playing in the background just couldn't seem to fill. She finished off her second glass and said, "Ever have one of those days where the world comes apart at the seams and you're left standing there wondering what the hell happened?"

"I've had my share," he said, giving her a look that she couldn't quite decipher. At first she thought it was pity and bristled. Then, she realized it was nothing more than understanding.

She watched as he tipped his head back, finishing his own drink. He waved down Jedd.

When they were alone again—or as alone as they could get—he said, "Care to explain that?"

"No." She shook her head, then drank. "Where do you wanna start, Dr. Phil? How about my childhood on the wrong side of the tracks? How about my abusive, criminal daddy, or my equally abusive, drug-using whore of a mother?"

Remi didn't flinch. She didn't know why she was saying this. Then she looked down at her nearly empty glass. Maybe she did know. Maybe she just didn't care.

"Or maybe we should get a little more recent?" she suggested, holding out her left hand. "The tan line there's from a ring I wore for four years, pretending to be engaged so my fiancé," she spat the word viciously, "could help me sign for loans, since they wouldn't give me a line of credit." She leaned forward, catching another whiff of his aftershave. It smelled good. Her hair falling into her face, she said, "Or maybe we can just talk about today?"

"What happened today?" he asked, still completely at ease.

Charlie barked a hoarse laugh. "That fake fiancé became a real fiancé about five months ago, I have one more interview before I'm accepted into med school, and I came home tonight to find him screwing some chick who looked weirdly like me."

Remi nodded, finally having the grace to look a bit uncomfortable. It looked strange on him—like it wasn't a feeling he was used to wearing.

She tossed off the last of her drink and stood up, wobbling. It had been a long time since she'd drank like this. He grabbed her elbow to steady her, and she looked down at him gravely. 

He reached up, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

A small gasp escaped her. "And the worst part? I'm glad he was fucking her instead of me, but I'm scared because now I don't know how I'll manage to afford to get through school. Or how I'll manage to get the hell out of this place. Or even where I'll stay tonight."

Her chest heaved a little. His hand was warm on her arm.

She met his gaze and frowned. Inexplicably, those green eyes had become rather calculating. He blinked, and it was gone as he finished his drink and stood, draping an arm over her shoulders.

Charlie frowned as he started to lead her out of the bar. Looking back, she said, "I didn't pay."

"It's on me," Remi said, and she stopped him.

She ducked out from under his arm and went back to the counter. Jedd tried to shake his head, but she fished out her wallet and slammed her last ten down on the counter.

Then she made her way precariously back to Remi before walking right past him. He followed her out of the bar.

"Maybe I can help," he called after her.

Charlie smirked. "I just bet," she murmured. She continued to walk, turning down a narrow alley leading east. When she heard him behind her, she whirled around and stared at him. He stopped, less than two feet away, and raised his hands in surrender.

She didn't want his surrender.

Taking a long step forward, her hands collided with his chest, shoving him back up against the damp, spray-painted concrete wall of the alley. He smirked. Her fingers knotted in his collar. She didn't have to try very hard to kiss him. Maybe the heels were good for something after all.

Remi laughed deep in his throat before kissing her back. He tasted like whiskey. Or maybe that was her. Either way, his tongue was in her mouth and she had the dreadful thought that he was probably very creative.

Charlie broke away and started walking. He'd bitten her lip. She could feel it throbbing lightly. Remi grabbed her elbow, pulling her to a stop. When she looked up, he grinned a devil's grin, then leaned in to whisper, "Well, tonight you're staying in my hotel room."

Something like relief swept through her, though she tried viciously to tamp it down. She raised an eyebrow, and he led her to the main road where he flagged down a taxi. After giving the taxi driver the name of the hotel—which Charlie didn't hear—he turned and pressed her against the door, kissing her neck.

Her fingers clutched at his jacket as she arched against him, his fingers skimming up under the edge of her skirt.

Charlie didn't think about Grayson again.

Fun Fact: The bartender, Jedd, looks like David Baker from Forged In Fire in my head.