Dr. Ekeblad

"I am assuming your place?" she says, her fingers draping suggestively across the arched back of her chair. Holy Moses! I've had too many Jack Daniels and I have known the lady for about five minutes. Give me a second for my brain to kick in.
I only came into The Cavern about an hour ago to find a little comfort. It's a lonely experience to create a new life: new town, new job, new me. Am I running away from the past you wonder? Well, yes, in a way. Frankly, the Ekeblad name is a curse. It's a burden I have failed to live up to. My new job is starting this week and it will give me a new chance at doing it right.
A new beginning in the middle of nowhere. Far from Nashville, far from everyone who knows me. The Cavern seemed such a good idea an hour ago. As I am gathering my spirits and psyching myself up for my new identity as Dr. Ekeblad at Dren General Hospital, I just want a last night to let go and to get lost in anonymity. So, here I am. Within seconds of sitting down, I lock eyes with the silky auburn-haired woman at the bar, out on a work night with her girlfriend. She's much too classy for this place. Call me bold or call me a fool, but I told the waitress to serve both ladies a Manhattan, on me.
Ever since the round of drinks, she's been glancing back at me over her shoulder.
"A Manhattan, huh?" I look up from my whiskey to see her standing at my table.
"A Manhattan," I offer a partial smile. "Would you like to sit?"
"I am here with my friend," she shrugs, but I can see that she wants to stay. She skeptically smiles. "Okay, but only for a few minutes."
The conversation is easy. Her laughter melodious. Her long and capable fingers tap the glass. I watch in surprise as my hands leave my tumbler and wrap around her tapping fingers. She stops talking and looks at me. My eyes are eager. I can see her weighing the proposition, as if every possible outcome is fluttering through her mind. Then her green eyes narrow, and her strawberry lips curl.
"I'll be right back," she says. She stands up and walks over to her friend at the bar, keeping her back to me. Her friend leans back, craning her neck to get a good look at me. Her heavily painted eyes narrow, as she studies me. I offer her a nod and courteous smile. Her lips press together, and she returns her attention to her auburn-haired friend. A few brief words are exchanged before she returns to me. "I'm assuming your place?"
I pick up my whiskey and quickly gulp the rest, setting the tumbler down with a renewed authority. "Yes. My place."