<div class="floatright">(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/a5/6f/76/a56f769d9682b82bfdceab7eb94bebc8.jpg)</div><strong>Richard Monaco</strong>was a little drunk. Or better, half drunk. But it wasn't his fault.<em>It's not my damn fault</em>he told himself, sipping from his third tumbler in something more than one hour. He wasn't a strong drinker and the all that bourbon was making him feel tipsy. But Nick, one of his best friends, was supposed to join him about one hour ago, so he'd been waiting, waiting, and then waiting some more.<em>It's Nick's fault if I drank too much, what was I supposed to do? Sit on my stool and get nothing from the bar, hoping no one noticed me?</em>he smiled. Then of course Nick texted him to cancel, begging for forgiveness, because he had finally made peace with his ex girlfriend Jeannie and was spending the evening, and hopefully the night too, with her. In a way, he envied Nick, because Jeannie - who seemed to bounce from girlfriend to ex and back a little bit too often - was smoking hot, but she was also as nice as a praying mantis. On cocaine.<em>Good luck to you, my friend.</em>He took another swig.<em>May you one day find love and peace in Jeannie's merciless mandibles.</em><br/><br/>Luckily enough he liked the place, so the long fruitless wait hadn't been too boring.<strong>Club Aurora</strong>, good name for the place. It wasn't huge, but not too small either. It was a welcoming place, with good music both from live bands and DJ sets, affordable drinks and a friendly staff. The two owners were both ex musicians, who managed to settle down at the apex of their modest, but still interesting, career. Their experience in the scene showed in how choosy they were in picking artists for their place. That evening for example: a small electro swing band, young and eager to please, full of enthusiasm and groove. They were playing with passion and they were really good. Richard was nodding his head to the music and tapping his fingers on the counter, trying to follow the drummer, but it wasn't easy. He tried to learn the piano when he was younger, took classes for a few years, but he never managed to get really good at it. He turned on his stool to have a better look at the tiny stage. The smattering of tables around the Club Aurora was nearly full, couples and small groups, chatting or listening intently to the music. In front of the band, people danced. Most of them were around his age, involved or interested in the indie scene, and he even knew more than a few of them.<em>When I'm done drinking, I'll join them and dance the bourbon away</em>he decided, rubbing his beard, at the sight of a couple of remarkably attractive girls in the small crowd.<br/><br/>The girl singing in the band, too. She was beautiful, eyes shining with passion, glossy lips almost touching the mic. She was singing their curious arrangement for<strong>Diamonds are a girl's best friends</strong>and wow, she was nailing it.<em>I wonder how would it be, sleeping with a singer. Dating a singer. Maybe she's single, who knows?</em>He started to fantasize about their hypothetical hot date, her perfect lips on his skin, her husky voice moaning and gasping, and all the rest, then had to stop daydreaming because he felt he was staring at her like a creep.<em>Damn, it's been too long since I had a girlfriend myself...</em>he took a sip from his glass, watching as the Club Aurora was getting more crowded.