WIP - Althea

The first time I ever laid eyes on Micah Hooper, something primal stirred deep within me. I'm going to assume that this is because I have an uncanny knack for spotting assholes. Never mind the fact that I was hungry. He sauntered into my bar with a self absorbed smirk on his face and a fedora slightly askew atop his mussed brown hair. He had arrived for a job interview wearing a fedora. I shook my head and quickly finished wiping down the bar.

"Hey, there. You must be Thea," his voice was deep and gravelly, and it made me want to punch him in the face. I looked up from the bar to see his eyes tracing the line of my waist.

"And you must be Micah," I replied with an icy smile.

"Absolutely. Micah Hooper at your service." He offered my his hand with a with a cocky grin.

I took it, reluctantly, and shook it firmly. "Althea Frost," I said, and dropped his hand. "Let me show you to my office."

He arched an eyebrow, and one corner of his mouth pulled upward. I turned on my heel and made my way back to my office. I heard his heavy footfalls behind me and felt his gaze on the swing of my hips. I opened the door and sat behind my desk and gestured for him to sit in one of the leather armchairs. I picked up the stack of applications next to the phone and leafed through until I found his. He was my last interview and the best looking applicant yet. I heard him flop down in the chair, rather than perch like most other people who come in for a job interview. He was already dancing on my last nerve.

"So... You're a real vampire, huh?"

"Yes. But we're here to talk about you and your competence behind a bar. Looks like you have several years of bartending experience. Why did you leave your previous employer?"

He chuckled and I wanted to punch him in the face again. "I just thought it was kind of funny. I'm having my very own interview with a vampire. And, in answer to your question, the tips were awful and the hours were worse."

I had to give credit where credit was due; he had a way with words. Which would serve him well as a bartender. For twenty minutes he chuckled and answered my questions and I was drowning in the stench of aerosol deodorant and testosterone by the time I was finished. And for all twenty minutes he watched me with that look that most twenty something boys get when they've become overconfident and think that any woman will simply fall at their feet. It was predatory and it was pissing me off, but regardless, I remained professional.

"Well, those are all of my questions for you, do you have any for me?"

Something mischievious flashed through his eyes, and I resisted the urge to rip out his throat. "No, ma'am," he said, one corner of his mouth turning up again.

"Well, I'll have to discuss this with my managers, but if we like your application, we'll call."

"Sounds fantastic, Thea. I'll be waiting with baited breath." He grinned and held out his hand again.

I shook it and said, "Don't."

He chuckled that nerve-grinding chuckle again and replied, "I'll just show myself out then. Very nice meeting you."

Micah sauntered out of my office, and I found myself disappointed. In myself mostly, for acting the way that I had. I was unprofessional, and rude. He certainly was the best applicant, and I decided that I would give him a shot. Not because I liked him, but because I needed a bartender.