It was a rainy, September evening in Pittsburgh where the distinct smell of fall approaching hung in the air. It was just another day as the ice queen walked down the street with attitude, looking like a punk rocker in her knee high stiletto boots, skinny black jeans, and old leather jacket. Alana Snow walked into the bar quietly to her familiar spot behind the counter, feeling everyone's prying eyes upon her. "What's wrong? Want to talk Lana," Mike asked while drying some beer glasses. "You know the answer is no," she responded flatly as she took her place behind the bar.

Rule number one was that she never talked about her personal life at work. When she was at work she was Alana Snow the bartender and front-woman for Snowstorm. It was the only place that she could be someone else; someone who wasn't a college dropout with family problems that would put Jerry Springer to shame.

"I figured," he said while turning to look back at the sink full of wet glasses, "Well I hate to make things worse, but your closing alone." She let out an exasperated sigh, knowing full well that was the last thing she wanted to hear. "That fuck called off again didn't he," she said while rolling her eyes and slowly pouring a Guinness for old man George in front of her. "Lana, 'that fuck' is my stepson, watch it." She leaned against the bar and said with attitude, "You know I wish I could be rich and work whenever I felt like it. Must be nice." Mike shot her a look of displeasure and said, "Lana, what is wrong with you today?"

“Nothing,” she spat out as she turned away from her boss and the patrons. However, what she should have said was everything. She barely made her rent payment, she hadn't eaten significant food in days, the CMU debt collectors were harassing her, and her drug addict brother was back in jail for a probation violation. Life was just peachy for Alana.

“OK Lana, Well then whatever is wrong put it behind you,” Mike said while sounding like the typical owner, “On nights you don’t play we’re barely making payroll, so be a little nicer to the customers ok?” She grabbed a bowl and poured in some bar nuts before placing it on the counter with a hint of attitude. “There, I’m being nice…right boys?”

And that’s when old man George spoke up. “Lana I don’t come here for you to be nice honey,” he said with a slight cackle, “I like the view and you pour Guinness right.” She shrugged and looked over at Mike and said, “See, they don’t expect me to be nice. You’re best customer even said so.” The three other regulars laughed and continued to drink their beers as Mike threw up his hands in defeat.

Within an hour her boss finished up and went home, leaving her to tend bar on her own. So to make things a bit more palatable she put the over-ride key in the jukebox and took control of the playlist. Once 9:00 rolled around, the bar started to fill up quickly with the latest round of college students.

As Alana poured a glass of whiskey on the rocks the questionably legal patron in front of her said, "hey that's not what I ordered." Her emerald green eyes darted to him as she responded flatly, "This isn't for you, It's for me." With her boot she slid open the cooler behind her, and reached down to grab the bottle of Coors Light. As she slid it down to the irritate patron, with her free hand she lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip.

"Ah!! Ma barman préféré!," she heard a voice say behind her. Alana pivoted on her stiletto boot heel to look at Max Talbott. She laughed and responded in Italian, "Max, mia italiano è meglio che mia francese." He shrugged and said, "I have no idea what you just said, but it sounded sexy." As much as she wanted to roll her eyes, she instead put on a smile. It was no secret that he was a womanizer, but at least he was a high tipping womanizer.

Lana poured his usual draft beer and set it down in front of him asking, "So what are you doing here tonight? Trying to find a blonde to take home?" Max grinned and said, "Well I wanted to come see you one last time, you see, I'm switching teams." Alana raised her eyebrow and said, "Really? I thought you liked girls, but if that's your thing go on and rock it." He let out a laugh and said, "I'm moving to Philly, so this may be our last night together." She pretended to pout as she said, "Oh No, who else is going to shove tips into my bra?"

After talking to him for a few minutes and enduring his flirting, Alana grabbed a bottle of Crown Royal Black and poured a round of shots for her and Max. "Here you go then, this round's on Mike, Just don’t tell him." After they both lifted the glasses a group of his friends filtered in. Since she was no longer the center of his attention, she quickly poured a round of drinks and turned to assist the other patrons.

Once she had a chance to return to Max and his friends, his party had grown. After she served them all, A tall blonde asked who Max's 'friend' was. "Oh, This is Lana," he said with a smile, "The only girl in Southside that refuses to fall for my charms." Lana tilted her head and said, "What he's trying to say is I'm a huge bitch since I won't sleep with him, but he tolerates me since I'm the best bartender around here."

The tall blond guy laughed and made a comment about liking her already. Max went on to introduce her to all of his teammates. “This is Jordan, Marc-Andre, TK, Sid, and Kris.” She nodded and smiled at all of them, but then her emerald eyes locked on the last man standing behind everyone. She couldn’t believe who was in front of her. And for the first time in her life Alana froze, unable to look away.

“Lana, Do you know Kris,” Max asked in a surprised tone. Her daze finally broke as she said, “Huh, No…He just reminds me of someone.” It couldn’t be him, her eyes had to be playing tricks on her. Her heart raced as did her mind, remembering that night. 'No, he just looks like him' she told herself. His hair was much longer, he was more ripped, and he seemed different from the man she met that night.

Kris then shrugged his shoulders and smiled slyly, “I'm sorry I've never met her before, Max must have been hiding you away from the rest of us." Max laughed and they seemed to move on, consuming yet another round of alcohol.

She kept herself distracted by serving all the patrons in the bar. The night flew by, and as she rang the bell for last call, her emerald eyes scanned the room. Much to her relief, he was already gone as was Max. Lana was finally able to focus on the flurry of tabs that needed to be paid as the bouncer began to kick everyone out.

Once the bar was empty she fixed herself another whiskey on the rocks to calm her nerves. It only took her around 45 minutes to clean and restock the bar, and after an exhausting night she was ready to go home and push the entire day out of her memory.

As she exited the back door of the bar, The sound of rapid falling rain made her curse under her breathe. She zipped up her old leather jacket and stepped out into the cold, pouring rain. She was about to bolt down the street, but Alana's eyes rose up when she saw a shadow approaching. And that’s when she saw him with an umbrella in his hand.

He walked up in what felt like slow motion as the rain drenched her entire body. He put the umbrella over her head, and then almost immediately leaned in and kissed her on the lips. And that’s when she felt it. He was her mystery man from that stormy, May night.