No sooner have we sat down than a woman with a tray, wearing a tight top and short skirt, approaches us.
“Long time no see, Mr. Beaumont,” the woman says sweetly. “We missed you.”
“Yeah, I’ll take my usual.” He cracks a half-smile as he gestures to me. “And my friend here will have…”
“Whatever he’s drinking, I’ll do the same,” I say.
She writes our drink orders down. “Any food? We have small foods like appetizers.”
“Chips and salsa?” I ask, and both she and Kingsley nod. Awesome, I’m starving.
The server writes it down and then goes to get our food. I hope she tells the DJ to lower the music, too, since it’s still blaring in my ears despite us being in a separate area.
“We get appetizers?"
Kingsley shrugs. “It’s a VIP thing.”
“Is the coke also a VIP thing?”
His eyebrows knit together, but he stays quiet. King kicks his legs up on the table and rests his arms behind his head, relaxing. If this is how chill he is before he’s got a drink in him, I wonder how calm, and hopefully talkative, he’ll be afterward.
As we wait for our drinks, I look around. Our booth is tucked away in the back, and you can only see half of it from the main area. Is that intentional? Not that it matters, since all the oldheads around us are too busy with their own stuff to care about what we’re doing.
Our drinks and chips arrive, and I dive right in. Kingsley’s clearly eager too, asking for another drink before he’s even finished his first.
Covering my mouth as I chew, I ask, “What happened to your face?”
“A fight,” he says simply.
“Did you win?”
He nods. “You should see the other guy.”
I did, and I would hate to be him.
“So, what have you and Thomas gotten up to today? Were you working on the footage from the restaurant? I notice you haven’t posted that yet.”
We’ve been too busy keeping Ryland from running off and blabbing to focus on that footage, plus the hours we spent at the club this week waiting and hoping to see Kingsley show.
“A little.” With a shrug, I lean in close, like I’m sharing a secret. “But between you and me, we spent most of the day doing nothing. Editing takes a hell of a lot of work.”
“I bet it does, but it’s your job. You get paid for it,” he says as he takes a sip of his drink.
“Yeah. You gonna tell on me?”
He smirks. “I’m a lot of things, Rip, but a rat isn’t one of them.”
King flags down the server and orders us both another drink. About an hour later, Kingsley is on his third drink, I’m on my fourth, and my second basket of chips and salsa. I’m definitely feeling the liquor, but not as much as my counterpart.
“I didn’t take you for a lightweight,” I chuckle.
“Fuck off, I’m not,” he states, but his words drag a bit. “They make the drinks strong, and it’s been a while since I’ve drunk this much.”
“Of course, they make them strong. You’re loaded and this place is rich as hell. You would probably fire them if they skimped on your liquor.”
Kingsley’s head tilts, eyes curious. “Do you think I’m just some rich asshole?”
“When I first met you? Yeah. But I’m not so sure anymore.” I crack a friendly grin. “But you definitely piss me off.”
