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April swallowed the last of her wine and tapped on her phone’s screen to wake it up, hoping she’d gotten a new message in the few minutes since she’d last looked. The only notification that appeared was a news alert about some celebrity filing for divorce from their significant other. Sighing, April set the glass down and unlocked her phone to read through the conversation in the app again. The last handful of messages were all from her.
I’m here. Sitting at the bar. Saved you a seat! :)
You on your way? Want me to order you a drink?
Am I at the right place?
Are you okay?
Hey. Are you coming?
Do you want to reschedule?
Hello?
“Can I get you another one, Miss?”
April tore her gaze away from her phone and looked up at the bartender. His expression was blandly professional, though April thought she caught a hint of sympathy in his eyes. Like he already knew the embarrassing truth that she was only just starting to let herself admit.
“Uhm.” She’d had two glasses already, and two was usually her limit. But, considering the turn her night was apparently taking, maybe she’d earned the right to overindulge a bit. Drown her sorrows. “Sure, why not. And a water too, please.” The bartender nodded and reached for her empty wine glass. “And,” April said as he started to turn away. “. . . Could I have a menu?” If she was going to have another drink, best to have something in her stomach to soak up the alcohol. She didn’t have to work tomorrow but would still prefer to avoid spending the morning nursing a hangover if at all possible.
The look of sympathy was unmistakable this time as he reached under the bar for a booklet with a black faux-leather cover. The name of the bar was printed at the top in bronze lettering. She mumbled her thanks and flipped it open immediately to hide her embarrassment. He returned a moment later and set a full glass of chardonnay in front of her, then turned to the patron she’d been only dimly aware of coming up to the bar beside her. “What can I get you sir?”
“Something with whiskey. Surprise me.”
April nearly fell off her stool hearing that familiar voice. She snapped her head up to the man standing next to her, certain she had misheard. He was wearing a navy sport coat over a white button-down shirt – no tie – and dark slacks. But the way he carried himself, the aura of authority he projected, was unmistakable. The bartender nodded, giving him a look of approval, then disappeared to go make the drink.
“Shredder?” April hissed as soon as he’d gone. “What are you doing here?”
He turned toward her, eyes wide in a look of shock that appeared wholly genuine. “Miss O’Neil? My, what a surprise! What brings you here?”
“I asked you first,” she said flatly.
“That’s obvious, isn’t it? It’s Saturday night. I do go out, on occasion. Mostly to get away from Krang for a few hours.”
“But why here?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “I like the ambiance.”
April hooked her elbow over the back of her stool as she twisted to sweep her gaze around the cocktail bar. She could tell why it had been dubbed one of the most romantic spots in the City. The lights were turned down low which seemed to deepen the rich shades of brown, burgundy, and gold of the décor. Couples seated at the booths and circular tables in the dining area leaned close to each other, sharing intimate looks and quiet conversation. Others held each other in a tender embrace as they swayed gently side to side on the polished wood floor in front of the small stage where a jazz ensemble was performing a smooth, sultry piece.
“Really never would have pegged you as a fan of live music,” April said, turning back around.
“I’m sure there are many things about me you don’t know,” Shredder said, sliding onto the empty stool next to her. April clenched her jaw, suppressing a pang of something she couldn’t quite identify — a mix of disappointment, sadness, and irritation. She’d been saving that spot for her date. Which seemed rather silly, now. He lifted a hand palm up in invitation. “Your turn.”
“I . . . seem to have been stood up,” April said quietly.
“Really?” he said. “By who?”
“Guy I met on a dating app. We’d been chatting for a couple weeks, and tonight was going to be the first time we met in person.” It was all the wine, she told herself. That was the only explanation she had for why she was telling this story to Shredder of all people. And why, now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. “We were supposed to meet here for drinks at seven and then.” She made a face and waved her hand in a vague gesture. They hadn’t made any plans beyond that, deciding to just see where the evening took them. “But,” she continued. “Seeing as it’s now nearly nine and he hasn’t shown or responded to any of my —“
April swallowed hard when her voice caught. The embarrassment swelled again, threatening to overwhelm her. She felt like such a fool. Going out to buy herself a new dress; taking the time to style her hair and make sure her makeup was perfect; sitting at the bar alone, looking up excitedly whenever she heard the door open; the little rush of excitement as she scanned the faces of the people entering, searching for one that was familiar. When all the while, it seemed, her date had had no intention of coming. She took several deep breaths as she willed her eyes to stop stinging. Too much wine or no, she was not going to cry in front of Shredder.
“Well, his loss. Far as I’m concerned.”
She blinked, startled out of her thoughts. “Huh?”
Shredder gazed at her for a moment, the corner of his mouth quirked up in an amused smile. “Did you think it had escaped my notice that you are a very attractive woman, Miss O’Neil?”
April felt her cheeks warm. Never would she have ever imagined Shredder thought of her that way. Luckily, the bartender returned right then so she was saved from having to reply.
“Sorry about that,” he said as he placed Shredder’s drink down in front of him. “Had several orders come in all at once. Anything else you need right now, or you good?”
“Could we get an order of the baked gnocchi?” Shredder said.
“Sure!” he said brightly. “I’ll put that right in for you!”
April bristled at the sly smile he flashed her. As soon as he was gone again, she fixed Shredder with a furious look. “We?”
“I haven’t eaten yet,” he replied. “Seeing as you have a menu in front of you, and you said you’ve been here a while, I’m guessing you haven’t either.”
She opened her mouth to argue but closed it again immediately when she realized she couldn’t deny any of what he’d just said. She did have a menu in front of her and she had said she’d been sitting at the bar waiting for several hours. And, now that she thought about it, she was very hungry.
“He’s going to think that —“ she tried instead.
“What he thinks,” Shredder interrupted. “Is that a gentleman hit it off with a gorgeous woman sitting alone at the bar while waiting for his drink and is now having dinner with her.”
April felt her cheeks redden again. “Stop that. I might start to think you actually like me,” she muttered. Shredder smirked at her and took a sip of his cocktail. “Also, you’re not a gentleman.”
“No, but he doesn’t know that,” he said, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I assure you, it’s far from unusual. Happens all the time.”
“Which you know because of all the time you spend in cocktail bars and clubs on the weekend,” she deadpanned. “In a city you don’t even live in.”
“Maybe not, but I do spend quite a bit of time here.”
“Fair point,” she conceded, waving a hand. “So is this how you usually pick up women?”
“Nope.” His eyes danced mischievously. “First time.”
“Hm. Lucky me.”
The bartender reappeared a short time later with a wide dish he placed on the bar between them. April’s mouth watered at the sight of the little dumplings coated in a red pesto sauce with curls of shaved Parmesan cheese and parsley sprinkled on top. “Enjoy!” he said, handing each of them a set of silverware wrapped in a black napkin.
Shredder gestured for April to take the first bite. “Bon appétit.”
She unwrapped her utensils and speared one of the gnocchi with her fork, blowing on it gently before popping it into her mouth. “Mmmm.” April closed her eyes, savoring the flavor of tomato and garlic bursting across her tongue. “This is really good.”
Shredder opened his own silverware and took a bite, nodding his head in agreement as he chewed.
April was reaching for another morsel of pasta when she felt her phone buzzing against her elbow. She lowered her fork and turned to read the message that had popped up on the screen.
“That your date?” Shredder said mildly.
“No, Irma,” she said absently. “Asking how my date is going.” April stared at the screen a moment longer, then dismissed the message and tucked her phone into her clutch. She had no idea how she was going to explain this to Irma — and didn’t even want to think about how the turtles would react when they learned she’d met up with their archenemy at a bar. April picked up her fork again and poked at the gnocchi. “She’s the one who encouraged me to start using the app. And was really glad I was going out tonight,” she felt compelled to add.
Shredder grunted in reply but didn’t ask any other questions, for which she was profoundly grateful. She really wasn’t interested in going into how long she’d resisted downloading the app. Or the many weeks it sat on her phone afterward before she’d finally created her profile.
The bartender reappeared a few times to check on them while they ate and bring Shredder a fresh cocktail. They stayed seated at the bar for a little while after their dishes had been cleared away, finishing their drinks.
“Y’know,” April said as she swirled the last mouthful of wine around in her glass. “Part of me almost wants to ask if you planned all this.”
“Planned what?” Shredder asked, raising one eyebrow curiously. April tipped her glass toward him, then toward her. “Hm. Why only almost?”
“Because your plans generally involve a lot more mayhem and destruction.” She finished her wine and set the glass down. “Oh, and kidnapping. Can’t forget the kidnapping.”
Shredder just grinned at her and took a sip of his whiskey.
The band, which had announced they were taking a break at some point during their meal, was now making its way back to the stage. Soon the mellow sound of a piano was once again drifting through the bar. Shredder stood and fished a silver money clip from his pocket. April stared wide-eyed in amazement as he peeled several bills off the top, shocked that he actually intended to pay for something. He caught the bartender’s eye and held the cash up. The man inclined his head in acknowledgement. Shredder tossed the money onto the bar and downed the last of his drink, setting the glass down with a flourish.
“Come on,” he said, tugging gently on her arm. April looked at him levelly but made no move to get up. “Trust me.”
“You’ll understand if I don’t, actually,” she said dryly.
His eyes sparkled with amusement. “We’re in a public place.” It wasn’t a threat but a reassurance. A promise.
April heard the little voice in the back of her mind telling her it didn’t matter – that no matter how earnest he appeared, believing him would be a mistake. But another one wondered where this could be leading. Her curiosity won out, or maybe it was all the wine making her reckless. She scooped up her clutch and slid off her stool.
Shredder steered her through the dining room toward the stage, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. April tensed, her heart racing with either excitement or panic, she couldn’t decide which. Probably a little of both. They wove through the other couples already on the dance floor to an open spot near the center. Shredder turned her around to face him and took hold of one hand, lifting the other one up to rest on his shoulder, then wrapped his arm around her waist. He kept his gaze fixed on hers as they began to flow through the steps – forward, to the side, then back.
“I didn’t know you could dance,” April said.
“Clearly you can’t, since you keep stepping on my foot,” he teased when she caught her toe on his.
“You try walking backwards in heels.”
“Hm no, I think the problem is,” he said when she stumbled again. “You’re not letting me lead.”
“Letting you do anything is just an all-around bad idea,” she said sweetly. The devilish glint in his eyes was the only warning she had before he pivoted. April wobbled and Shredder pulled her in close to keep her from toppling over. She scowled at him once she had her feet underneath her again. “You did that on purpose.”
He smiled innocently. April snorted but took the hint and made herself relax, stop trying to anticipate his next step, and just allow him to guide their movements.
The music swirled around them, weaving some kind of hypnotic spell. A languid feeling seeped into April’s limbs as she slipped farther into that pleasant haze. The bar, the dance floor, the stage, all gradually faded away. Nothing existed beyond the twinkling melody of the piano, the sweep of the brush over the snare, the thrum of the bass. She hardly noticed their dance slow until they were gently swaying side to side, turning around in a slow circle. Nor did she notice she’d melted into Shredder’s embrace, resting her head against his chest.
“You really do look lovely tonight, Miss O’Neil,” he murmured in her ear.
“Hm.” April lifted her head and smiled up at him shyly. A genuine smile. For the first time that night, she wasn’t taken aback by his flattery. If she was being honest with herself, it did feel nice to be appreciated. Even if it was from an unlikely source. “As . . . disappointing . . . as this night started,” she said slowly. “This has been . . . really nice. Thank you.” She frowned when a thought flashed through her mind. “We’re not going to start making a habit out of this though. Right?” Shredder gave her enigmatic smile in reply.
There were fewer couples on the dance floor, now. The bar appeared to have had cleared out a bit, though it was still far from empty. April got the sense that it was quite late – later than she’d planned on staying out. The band concluded the piece they’d been playing and stated they were taking another short break. Shredder held April a moment longer, then slowly lowered his arms to his sides, keeping hold of her hand, and took a step back. They stood there gazing at each other while the handful of other dancers retreated to the bar for another drink. April felt a little flutter in her stomach at the fond look in Shredder’s eyes. Her mind buzzed with anticipation, wondering what he was thinking and what he was going to do next.
“Good night, Miss O’Neil,” he said finally.
He gave her hand a firm squeeze and let her go. April watched him disappear into the crowd at the front of the bar, then slipped her phone from her clutch and respond to Irma’s text from earlier. A glance at the time in the corner of the screen as she typed confirmed it was, indeed, very late. It was . . . Unexpected.
The reply was almost immediate. Irma must have been waiting up, sitting on her phone. Ooh! That’s good, right?!? Are you going to see him again?
April laughed to herself. “Oh, probably.”
***
The moon hung bright and full overhead as Shredder strolled alone down the empty sidewalk. The City had a certain energy to it tonight, a liveliness felt even here in this deserted stretch of street just beyond the Financial District. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, relishing the warm, electric tingling playing over his skin. It was probably just the whisky going to his head, he thought. He wasn’t one to indulge often, but it had been warranted given the setting. Or maybe it was simply contentment he was feeling. A smile spread across his face. Yes, that was it. Satisfaction. The night had gone just as he’d hoped. Perhaps better. Even with that mild inconvenience that had delayed him at the start.
He came upon the darkened storefront of an old hardware store. Signs in the windows read For Lease and Retail Space Available. Shredder ducked into an alley beside the building and let himself in through the back entrance. A camp lantern on the milk crate against the side wall cast a circle of light bright enough to illuminate much of the rear of the salesfloor, but not enough to be seen from the street. A young man in a light dress shirt and pants sat on the ground in the corner, his hands cuffed together around a pole. He shifted onto his knees as Shredder approached and snarled a string of curses at him. At least, he assumed that’s what he was saying. Hard to tell, really, what with the duct tape covering his mouth. Shredder had to admire the man’s bravery. Not many would be bold enough to challenge their captor in such a way. Though there was one in particular that immediately came to mind.
“You’ll be happy to know your date had a very pleasant evening,” Shredder said amiably. “Me too, actually. Been quite a while since I’ve gone out with someone. Oh and,” he reached into his pocket for the money clip and held it up. “Many thanks for this. My normal method for paying for things is to, well.” He chuckled. “Not.”
Confusion flickered across the man’s features. He grunted something that was, again, impossible to decipher, but Shredder imagined he’d just come to realize something he hadn’t considered previously. That none of this had been about him.
“No hard feelings, I hope,” Shredder said as he tucked the cash back into his pocket. “If it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else. Unfortunately,” he continued. “I doubt she’s going to want to hear from you again after this. You understand, of course. After all you did stand her up.”
The man glared at him. Shredder remained stone-faced while he pondered what to do with the poor fool now. There was a time the answer to that would have been simple, but he knew the reporter wouldn’t approve when she found out. And given her line of work, that was unavoidable. He felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. That woman was such a terrible influence on him.
“You’d do well to forget everything that happened tonight,” he said severely, reaching into his other pocket for the handcuff key which he then tossed on the floor beside the pole. The man eyed it warily, clearly anxious to grab it but worried it might be some kind of trick. Shredder’s estimation of him rose even higher for that. “Enjoy whatever’s left of your evening,” he said, then spun on his heel and marched out the door, leaving his prisoner to choose his own fate.