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No one ever accused Isobel Evans of being a good person.
Quite the opposite, usually.
And despite what Max has been loudly insinuating, Isobel isn’t trying to sabotage Michael and Maria. It’s just -
Well, Michael doesn’t have the best track record with relationships (ex: Alex Manes), and sometimes he’s too stubborn to listen to reason when he’s making yet another terrible decision. After the year they’ve had, she can admit to being a little concerned with a second reckless dive into a relationship with a human.
He’s her brother. She just wants to protect him.
Because Maria is too smart to be lied to. Half the town already knows their secret; Isobel isn’t about to let Michael’s dick make the decision to include another person in this mess.
Isobel checks her hair in the flip-down mirror in her car one last time, smoothing down the flyaways. She knows how she looks - big, innocent eyes, peachy gloss to highlight her pout, shirt cut low enough to hint at suggestive, heels this side off fuck-me high.
Max has subtly let it slip to a few of the town gossips that Noah had run off with an intern. It hasn’t taken long for the information to spread that Isobel is single, looking for a rebound to mend her poor, broken heart.
It’s just good karma that her target happens to work at the bar known for bad, drunken mistakes.
The scent of stale beer and tobacco greets her as she pushes into the Wild Pony. Maria catches sight of her immediately, and while she still rolls her eyes, it’s kinder than it was a few weeks ago.
Isobel tries to ignore the way her shoes stick to the floor as she crosses to the bar, sliding into her favorite seat, aptly positioned where Maria tends to lean when not busy pouring beers.
“Michael’s not here.” Maria says, wiping the bartop a touch more aggressive than Isobel thinks is necessary.
“I know,” She blinks few times when Maria meets her eyes. “I’m here for a drink.”
Maria hums, skeptical, but turns to grab Isobel’s prefered brand of gin from the top-self. She preens, running her tongue over her teeth.
“You remembered,” she cooes, as Maria slides the gin & tonic across the bar.
“You’ve been in here every day this past week.” Maria taps the rim of the Isobel’s drink twice.
Isobel bites the same spot on the glass as Maria flits off with her customary flirt-first grin. The icy burn of the gin floods her mouth, the sharp tang of the lime lingering over her molars. She drinks half of it before Maria makes her way back over to her. Liquid courage and all that.
“Busy in here tonight.”
Maria shrugs, taking in the clusters of people crowding together around pool tables and booths over Isobel’s shoulder. “People got lots of reasons to drink.”
Isobel tilts her head, pressing her lips into a the beginnings of a moue. “You don’t?”
Maria sighs heavily, eyes narrowing slightly. Isobel keeps her face neutral. She grew up with Max and Michael - she knows how to win a stare-down without giving away her endgame. With a click of tongue, Maria spins, grabbing a bottle of tequila and four shot glasses.
“You’re right. Fuck sobriety.”
“Atta girl.” Isobel doesn’t normally go in for shots, but Maria doesn’t pause to wait for Isobel before downing the first one she pours, and damn if she’s going to be left behind. “Fuck,” she sputters heartedly, slamming the shot glass on the table upside down between Maria’s two.
Maria’s smile is feline, a flash of white points behind her wine stained lips. “Good, yeah?” She asks slowly.
Isobel laughs, delight catching her by surprise. “Think I’ll stick to my gin, thank you very much.” She takes a long pull from her nearly empty drink to solidify her point.
Maria is watching her, eyes a dark secret. “Suit yourself.”
They drink quietly for a few minutes, each of them sizing the other up openly. The tension is delicious, her head pleasantly buzzing under the candid attention. She hides her smirk in her drink.
“I can’t really see Isobel Evans picking up a dirty drunk townie for rebound. Why aren’t you over at one of those,” Here Maria waves her hand in distaste, “fancy, expensive tourist bars.”
Isobel shrugs, glancing away and over her shoulder to survey the crowd. She’s right, of course, Isobel would never let one of those boozers so much as buy her a drink. “Who says I’m here to pick up someone?” She turns back around to face Maria’s scoff.
“In that getup. Yeah right.”
Isobel wiggles her shoulders loosely. Her gin is down to melting ice cubes, the lime floating sadly in the pool at the bottom of her glass. Maria reaches for it, but Isobel grabs the shot glass Maria had been sipping from and throws the rest back with a hiss.
“I think tequila is growing on me.” She adds in a wink for luck.
Maria all but flees after that.
Isobel is watching her through the mirror against the bar. Every so often, Maria will glance up and catch Isobel’s eye and hold it for a long breath. It leaves her charged, adrenaline lighting up her veins, better than any shot of acetone could.
Maria snaps at her when she makes her way behind the bar twenty minutes later: “What do you really want?” She’s glaring at her, puffed up defensively, a snake curling to strike. Isobel jerks, trying to follow the shift in mood.
“What-”
“Is this some territorial threat to stay away from Michael? Are you really that insecure, Isobel? Can’t fathom not being the most important person in his life for once?” She’s got herself worked up now, words tripping over each other, chest heaving.
“I don’t -” Isobel starts again, but Maria jumps in to speak over her again.
“Well, you don’t have to worry,” She’s nearly shouting now; it truly speaks to the abhorrent clientele of this bar that only a few patrons glance their way, too used to shouting matches breaking out. “There’s nothing going on,” finally Maria pauses, blinking flustered, shaking her head. “Or maybe there was something, or the possibility of something, but it’s over now.”
“Maria.” Isobel says, waiting for a few moments to see if there was anything left in her mini-rant. “I’m not here because of Michael.” Her pulse beats to the refrain: liar. She takes a deep breath, glancing down at the bartop, dragging the tip of her now empty ring finger through the circles of condensation. “Shockingly, I don’t revel in spending my nights alone in my empty house.” There. That’s not even a lie. Her pulse slows.
Maria still doesn’t look convinced, but she’s stopped glaring at Isobel like she murdered a puppy in front of her. “Fine.” She rests both elbows on the bartop, reaching for Isobel. “Then let me read you.”
“What?” Isobel laughs, pulling away from Maria’s reach slightly.
“I’m serious. I’ll even do it for free. Prove to me you don’t have any sneaky, nefarious motives, bitchy barbie.”
Isobel frowns. Maria is provoking her, one brow raised in a look that Isobel recognizes from her own face. “Fine,” She snaps, grabbing Maria’s hand none-too-gently. “Read away, all knowing one.” She mocks, smirking as the anger pinches Maria’s face again.
The electricity from before is back, a cold thrill that has Isobel’s skin tingling in the oppressive humidity of the bar. Maria’s eyes are expressive, gold glittering over the lids and down her cheekbones. Normally, Isobel finds that look tacky. On Maria, it’s captivating.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, dragging her fingertip over Isobel’s palm. Her fingers are long, graceful. “I knew Noah was -”
“It’s fine,” Isobel interrupts. Maria holds her gaze, lips pressing down, before glancing back at Isobel’s hand.
“Your life line is broken. Here, look,” Maria leans over, tracing the line along Isobel’s palm. “It’s not as morbid as it sounds, though. Broken life lines mean you’re going through a change.” Isobel nods when Maria looks up. Her face is soft, sincere. “And here, your fate line intersects with your heart and head lines.”
“What does that mean?” Isobel whispers, caught up in the way Maria’s hair is falling over her face.
Maria smiles. “You’ll have decision to make - head or heart.” They stare at each other, Maria still holding Isobel’s hand loosely in both of hers. “You have a secret. One that’s been weighing you down, for years now. Something that you’ve never shared with anyone. You’ll have to decide if you’re willing to open yourself up.” Maria curls Isobel’s hand inward, overlaying their fingers.
“Yeah,” Isobel’s voice cracks, and she shrugs, pulling her hand back to clear her throat. “I’m going through a divorce. That’s . . . obvious.”
Maria doesn’t say anything, just pours another gin & tonic for Isobel. Their fingers brush, clumsy, as she hands it off, and some liquid sloshes over.
Isobel sucks the side of her finger into her mouth, tongue catching the drops of gin. Maria’s eyes are wide, watching, so Isobel flaunts more than strictly necessary, curling her tongue and sliding her finger out slowly.
“So, do you believe me?”
“Huh?” Maria shakes her head once, dazed. Isobel grins, pleased and showing off.
“That my motives are pure.”
Maria laughs. “I’ll never believe that, Evans.”
The crowd around them is thinning out, most of the regulars too drunk or cheap to keep their bar-tabs going this late into the night. Outside, the night air is cooling, but inside it’s still hot from the press of bodies and something else.
The noise has dropped off to hushed conversations, the music a low, simmering thrum undercutting everything. Maria’s stayed behind the bar, cleaning glasses and reorganizing the bottles. She listens as Isobel talks, a random assortment of topics flowing from her with the assistance of the alcohol.
Normally, Isobel graciously ducks out before the clock hits double digits. She doesn’t need to jump into Maria’s head to know that’s she thinking the same thing. It’s a Thursday night, no reason for her to be staying long after she’s finished her third drink. But she’s not willing to go.
She’s comfortable, here, content to snipe with Maria and bitch about the public shitshow her life has become.
They don’t even realize they’re the only ones in the bar until the music clicks off and the silence rushes in to greet them.
Maria sighs, rubbing a hand through her hair. “Jeez, it’s late.”
“Right,” Isobel’s curls her mouth to the left. She raps her knuckles, a one, two, three, four, like when she was learning piano. “How much do I owe you?”
“You don’t.” Maria says. She quickly shakes her head. “I mean, you can just pay your tab tomorrow.”
Isobel bites the tip of tongue, waiting to let the smile unfurl until she’s turned her back on Maria to slip off the stool. “Alright.”
Isobel forgets, sometimes, how small Maria is compared to her. She takes up so much space, bristling and bossing around, a fierce hellcat in out of season thrifts. Maria has to tilt her head back to meet Isobel’s eyes as she stands over the bar. Her mouth is open in soft exhale, eyes all over Isobel’s face.
She wonders what Maria sees written there. She’s not sure she wants to know.
Isobel kisses her gently, nearly chaste, a light brush of their lips before she pulls away. Maria’s hair is soft against Isobel’s fingers, breath warm on Isobel’s mouth as she shudders into her touch.
“I’m going to ban your goddamn family.” Maria whispers, rough, her eyes opening slowly.
Isobel touches the highest point of Maria’s cheek. Her finger comes away gold.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Maria.”
Isobel Evans leaves Maria’s bar with the taste of tequila on her lips, and the promise of tomorrow in the back of her mind.
She flips Max off in her head, too, just for good measure.