Everybody has one, right? I mean, the one you'll never forget. It was only one night, but it changed my life forever...

I was wandering around the city, looking for something to do. Probably not very smart of me, but I really didn't care. I saw the pink neon. "Joe's". A bar, a club? I opened the door and went in.

Blues. How appropriate. I stood by the door for a moment, and asked myself some questions. Did I really want to go in? No. Did I really want to see people? No. Did I really want a drink? Finally, a yes. I walked up to the bar.

The bartender had spiky, grey hair and a killer smile. "Hi. I'm Joe. What can I get you?"

"A new life?"

"Sorry, fresh out of those. How about a drink?"

"Okay, I'll take a beer."

"Coming right up."

As he was drawing my beer a kid stepped behind the bar and helped himself. He was cute, so I smiled. That felt kinda weird, I guess I hadn't smiled in awhile. He grinned back at me. Another great smile. "Hi. I'm Richie."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Kylie."

"Well, Kylie, you know a smile is much more convincing when it reaches your eyes, right?"

"Now, Richie," Joe handed me my beer, "when a lady walks into my bar and orders a new life she probably isn't in much of a mood to do a lot of smiling."

"You serving up new lives to customers these days, Joe?"

"No. That's why she settled for a beer." I was getting the idea that these two were good friends. Richie took his drink and walked away. I couldn't help it, I had to ask,

"Isn't he a little young?"

"Trust me, he's older than he looks." Trust, yeah right. When a guy starts to say ‘trust me' the only thing you should do is run the other direction - fast.

"Hey, Kylie, you in there?" It was Joe. My mind must have been wandering.

"Um, yeah, just a little distracted."

"Looked like a whole lot distracted to me."

"Well, okay, ‘a whole lot distracted'. I'm sorry."

"Hey, no-one has to apologize to me for being distracted. I've done plenty of that myself. I'm a pretty good listener, want to talk about it?"

"What is that, a part of bartender training?" I asked.

"Maybe, but it's also a big part of my personality."

"Let's just say that I'm a little disinclined to trust a man who says ‘trust me' lately." I sounded a little bitter, but that was okay because I felt a lot bitter.

"I see. So this is about a man. No man is worth wanting a new life. I should know, I'm a man." Yeah, I'd noticed that. I wasn't going to tell him though, so I just smiled.

"That smile almost got to your eyes," he was pretty proud of himself, "Stay here for awhile and we'll work on it." I was starting to feel a little better. Good beer, good music, nice company. It had been a long time since I'd been with nice company. I turned around to watch the band and enjoy my beer.

Several glasses later I was feeling a lot better. I started to reflect on the farce that had been my life for the past few years. I thought that I had friends, a home, a career, someone to love for the rest of my life. What I actually had was a series of lies, all adding up to heartbreak. I was an intelligent, talented woman. At what point had I so lost touch with reality that I had allowed my life to be run by someone else? When had I become so dependent on another person's opinion and ability? I tried to find a minute, or an hour, or even a day when I turned my life over to Carl and his lies. I couldn't pin it down. Maybe there wasn't any one moment. Maybe it had happened slowly, step-by-step, until I was lost and my whole life belonged to him. I had to believe that. I couldn't live with any other explanation.

"Hey, Mac!" Joe's voice brought me back to the bar. I looked up to see who he was talking to. The man who was walking through the door was...beautiful. For a moment I couldn't see anything else. I don't think I even breathed.

"Joe. How's it going tonight?" Wow, even a beautiful voice. An accent that I couldn't quite place..."How about a beer."

"Coming right up." Joe grabbed a glass. I didn't even look at him as I politely cleared my throat.

Joe was quick, "Kylie..."

"O'Meara" I offered.

"Kylie O'Meara, this is Duncan Macleod. Duncan, this is Kylie. She's looking for a new life, but she's settled for a couple of beers for right now."

"A couple of beers instead of a new life. I have a friend you should meet. He has the same basic philosophy. I think you two might really get along."

I found my voice, "Not forever, mind you, just for tonight." He smiled at me. What was it with these men and their smiles? Did they all belong to a club? The Guys-Who-Really-Know- How-To-Smile Club? But this smile was the best yet. The other two actually looked like amateurs compared to this.

"Just for tonight," Duncan echoed me. "Y'know, that phrase is applicable to all kinds of situations". Joe had obviously taken this cue before because he kind of faded into the background. One very practical side of me took offense at that, but every other facet of my personality said, "Wow".

"Pardon me? Did you just say ‘wow'?" Had I? How embarrassing. But I could still save this, I could recover. I had a snappy comeback ready. If I could only remember what..it...was... Too late; I was lost in those chocolate eyes, broad shoulders, beautiful brown hair...

I shook myself. What was I thinking? I was running away. I didn't need this. I didn't need anyone. The whole point was to get a drink and to avoid people. I pulled away very quickly - too quickly as it turns out. Somehow Duncan's arm was around my waist holding me up before I had quite realized I was falling.

"Whoa there, exactly how much have you had to drink?" He looked very concerned. How could a man who'd only just met me care so much about me? I must have been imagining it. But looking at his face I was falling again, this time into his eyes, which seemed to be bottomless.

"Apparently I've had more than I thought," I told him breathlessly "Or at least more than I was prepared to handle."

"Well then, I know what you need. You need a walk out in the night air. And I'm please to offer my services as a companion." I looked at Joe. Why I should choose to trust the judgement of a bartender I'd known for one evening is not clear to me even now. But trust him I did, and he nodded at me and smiled. I knew I'd be safe. So with Duncan's arm firmly, and quite comfortably, around my waist, out the door we went.

We walked in silence for a few minutes. I was forgetting to breathe again, which wasn't helping me gain my balance or my composure, but which kept that strong arm tightly around my waist.

"You wouldn't happen to feel like telling me why you're out looking for a new life, would you?" It was the casual, non-judgmental, non-demanding way in which he asked the question that snapped something inside of me and it all came spilling out at once. Carl; my painting; how Carl had brokered the sale of all of my work for 2 years. He had convinced me that I didn't want a show; that my work sold so well by word of mouth that I didn't need any more exposure. He, of course, was the perfect person to handle all of my business; all I needed to do was paint. And entertain his friends, who became my friends as Carl cut me off from my old life and replaced it with a new one. Oh yes, and trust him.

"It sounds so terrible condensed like that. I must really have been a fool".

"No," Duncan said firmly, "you were in love. In love with Carl and in love with art. I understand that. I knew someone once who had a passion for art and a passion for life. They seem to go hand-in-hand".

"But you don't understand," I was pleading now, trying to make him understand; trying to make myself understand. I found a ledger one day. It was full of strange entries. Several small entries for several different dates, all adding up to one large entry. The pattern was repeated over and over and over. And next to each large total, the title of one of my pictures. The totals were for thousands of dollars; more than any one of my paintings could possible be worth. I was confused, not yet hurt, not yet crushed. I started searching the house. Finally I found what I was looking for, in a room I had thought used for storage of files, or...something. I no longer knew what I thought. But I knew what had been happening. Carl was selling drugs. And as his customers would run up their tab, and then pay him off in a lump sum, he would present them with one of my paintings and a receipt, so that they could justify to anyone who was interested where their thousands of dollars were going.

"I thought that I was good. I thought that I was making a living doing what I loved. I didn't even confront him, I just left. He found me a few weeks later, and it took very little to convince him that his secret was safe with me. His racket was over, but he was safe. I don't know what made him let me go. Maybe he did care something for me. Or maybe he saw how broken and humiliated I was and knew that I was telling the truth; that if he let me go I would never cause problems for him, that if he made me stay I would never paint again."

By this time my head was quite clear. And I was quite numb. As it all flooded back, so did the void of feeling, of caring. Duncan grabbed my hand. "Come on, I know where we have to go."

I didn't protest, I just followed. Somehow we ended up in front of a building - a dojo of all things. "You want me to take out all of my pent-up frustrations on a punching bag maybe ?" I asked, only half kidding.

"No, I own the dojo. I live upstairs". He lifted the door of the elevator and pulled me in. I had no idea what he had in mind, but I had nothing left in me to protest with. When we got to the 2nd floor he opened the door and pulled me out. He led me to a couch and said, "Sit down". He walked over to a beautiful chest and pulled out a pad of sketching paper and a pencil. Handing them to me, he sat down on the chair opposite me and said, "Now, sketch me". I was so stunned that I didn't even think about it, I just started sketching.

As his beautiful face took shape on the paper before me I started to feel. With every line and every shape and every shading something tore loose inside of me. By the time the sketch was done I could barely see the paper, or Duncan, through the tears streaming down my face. I dropped the pad and broke down completely. I'd never sobbed like that in my life.

Suddenly Duncan was there, with his arms around me, lifting me onto his lap like a child, and picking up the sketch. "Somehow I knew you'd be good. I knew there would be talent. Look at this, it's wonderful. Carl could never have pulled off the operation if you weren't talented. It's a shame that he couldn't see just how talented you are. Those paintings will probably be worth what was ‘paid' for them someday. If you want, I'll go after him. Tell me where he is and I'll make sure that he pays for what he did to you."

I looked into those eyes again, and I can't describe what I saw there. I'm not sure there are any words for the anger and the hurt and the sympathy and the love. I found myself not crying, just staring into Duncan's soul. What had this man seen of life to put those things into his eyes? To make him make me an offer like that? I didn't think there was time in a whole lifetime to see what was in that soul. Especially not in the 30-odd years that he had been alive. And I found that I really didn't want to know.

"No," I said, clearly and firmly. "I'd rather walk away from it." I wouldn't wish vengeance from this man on anyone, especially not someone as worthless as Carl.

"If you're sure, then I'll let it go. But I'm going to give you my number. If he ever shows back up in your life, you call me. Promise me." I took another look into his eyes, and into his soul, and I promised.

The next day we walked back to "Joe's" together. I felt so glorious. I had my art back, and with it my life. I didn't know where I was going, or what I would do when I got there, but I knew that I would be alright. We walked through the door and Richie greeted us with a grin. Joe came out of the back room with another man. Tall, thin, not as beautiful as Duncan, but there was something about him. And then he smiled. Four-for-four. I really gotta hand it to those guys and their smiles.

"Mac, Kylie, hi," Joe was grinning too. "Adam, this is Kylie, the one who settled for beer when I was fresh out of new lives to serve up."

"Ah, a woman after my own heart. There is nothing quite like a good beer. Or 3, or 6, or..." Another charming accent. And again I couldn't quite place it.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Adam, but today I'm only taking the new life"

"So you've been spending a little time with our good friend Mac, have you?" The question was rhetorical, and I knew it.

I turned to Duncan, "I really should be going. If I don't get started, I'll never get anywhere". He nodded.

"I'll walk you to the door. Are you sure I can't drive you somewhere? Or even offer you a place to stay for a little, until you're on solid ground again?" It was the most tempting offer I'd ever had, but I shook my head. I needed to get on with my ‘new life', and he understood.

"The offer stands. You'll always be able to find me if you need me." He kissed me gently, but I was having none of that. I pulled him in hard and kissed him in a way that doesn't need an audience. The three guys in the bar looked the other way. I gotta admit, Duncan had some good friends.

I took one last look into those chocolate eyes, and memorized his face. Then I walked away from "Joe's" and I didn't look back.

I never had to call him. For whatever reason, through blind luck or divine twist of fate, I never saw or heard from Carl again. And so I never saw Duncan again either. I will never forget him, though.

And what happened in the loft that night after I finished my sketch? Well, I'll leave that to your imagination, because there are not words to express it. But it made us both smile.