“Casper,” my sister sings the bartender’s name, her eyelashes batting as she catches his attention. “Please give my brother his drink before he pops a vein; he needs it. While you’re at it, give me one of whatever he got.”
Casper’s mustache wiggles as he flashes my sister a flirtatious smile. He couldn’t even interest the lady beside me, with her red bob and pretentious mannerisms, so what the hell makes him think he has a shot with my sister?
While he gets to work on our drinks, Odette takes a seat on the barstool beside me.
“So when you ask, he has no problem. When I ask, I get ignored.” I shoot a vicious glare at the bartender.
“It’s because you don’t ask nicely,” she says simply.
Or it’s because I don’t have pretty makeup and tits.
Sweating, I roll up my jacket sleeves. “Are you ready to go yet?”
“Oh, come on, King,” her hands flail as she complains. “We just got here. You haven’t even had your first drink yet.”
“Because Casper hasn’t given me my drink,” I state dryly. “Meanwhile, you’re on your third.”
Odie purses her lips, letting out a breath, already sick of my whining. “I managed to get you out here tonight. Mind you, Ara didn’t think I could do it, so I’m already winning. Can you help me out more by, I dunno, enjoying yourself?”
Unfortunately for Odie, I have no desire to help her continue to prove our sister wrong. I learned a long time ago to stay out of their squabbles because it only ever ended in chaos. It’s like war; picking the wrong side could be fatal. I’m choosing life.
The bartender smirks as he slides two bright orange glasses my sister and I’s way. Odie blows a kiss toward him, and his alluring smile makes me believe he’s getting tingles in places that shouldn’t be tingling. Now I’m imagining ways I can get away with squeezing my hands around his neck.
Her bronze skin glows in the neon club lights as she sips her screwdriver. Wait, sips? I meant gulps. Before I can even grab my drink, she’s already finished half of it.
Having finished most of it, Odette sets the glass on the bar and hops off the chair. The short girl holds my hands tightly, as if that will convince me to change my mind. “Can you loosen up a little? Dance with me!”
I shake my head, aiming for a sympathetic look, but suspect it seems like I’m bored.
She pouts, eyes darting between the drink, me, and the dance floor. If she were only doing her usual pouty thing to get her way, I wouldn’t have even noticed. But instead, my sister’s eyes flash with the dejected, helpless glint all my family has with me lately.
Like I’m fucking hopeless.
I frown half-heartedly. “Go have fun, Odie.”
Her eyes nail me as her tongue flicks over her teeth, and she smacks her lips. “Alright, whatever. At least I got you out of the house, right?”
Her braids hit me one last time as she spins around and vanishes into the crowd.
I wasn’t trying to kill my sister’s mood, but she’s so persistent it’s hard not to. She means well, like everyone else, but I wish they’d all quit to avoid letting themselves down.
This R&B sound is blasting, but I don’t have the urge to dance or sing along like the rest of the crowd. My last good time at a club was my bachelor party with Mateo, Shawn, and Ryland, more than a year ago. Now I barely leave the house, let alone get sloppily drunk and high with those guys.
I’ve tried, believe me, but I don’t feel it. I don’t feel much at all, actually.
I figured going tonight would get Odette off my back for at least a month. The best-case scenario is that tonight she’ll meet someone special who’ll take her mind off me.
“Two gin and tonics, thanks.” A distinctly British voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn to put a face to the accent.
I follow his tattooed arms up, each one carefully and thoughtfully done until they vanish under his sleeve. His dirty-blonde mullet is all messed up, like he attempted to tame it but failed miserably. But honestly, the disheveled look works in his favor.
He’s sitting there all puffed up and smirking, like he thinks he’s the best-looking guy in the place. He flashes a toothy smile at the bartender.
As soon as our eyes connect, I shift my gaze. I have a goddamn staring problem, and it always gets me into unnecessary conversations.
“Rough night?” I don’t have to look up to know he’s speaking to me.
Always. “No. I’m just ready to go.”
