The Devil's Gaze
Mirabella let out a soft laugh, leaning slightly forward on the polished counter, her fingers now wrapped around a glass of sparkling lemonade. Mario, the grey-haired bartender with eyes that still held a glint of wild youth, had just told her a story about a drunk politician who'd once mistaken the stage for a urinal.
"And he pissed right there on stage," Mario said, wiping a glass dry with a knowing grin. "Stage lights and all. He damn near gave the girls a stroke."
"No way," Mira laughed again, the sound light and genuine. "That’s ridiculous."
“You’ve got a pretty laugh, sweetheart,” he said as he poured another cocktail, “but try not to wander around too much. Stick close to your friends, yeah?” Mario winked. "Actually, everything’s ridiculous around here, sweethea
