Page 65 of Burn For Me

The music playing was a rock song I didn’t recognize. As it played softly, the colorful lights on the jukebox flashed. The walls were dark wood, along with the booths, flanked with what I assumed were red seats at one time. My eyes flicked over the pictures of motorcycles hanging on the walls with women in different stages of naked lying on them.

Hood up, face down, I made my way toward the bar and picked a stool three away from the only other person sitting on one of the tall chairs.

“What do ya want?” the bartender asked, sounding more annoyed than interested in making a buck.

I didn’t have a fucking clue what to get and looked over the man’s shoulder at the selection that lined the mirrored shelves.

“Give ‘em one of these,” the guy sitting a few stools down said, holding up a brown bottle of beer. “The rest of the shit in this place tastes like watered-down piss. I’ve had my share of both piss and alcohol, and trust me, this is the only good thing here.”

I glanced over and saw a man that looked like he’d been sitting on the stool long enough for it to become part of his ass. The dark circles under his eyes screamed that he needed sleep instead of the cigarette caught between his lips and the beer he was drinking.

The bartender plunked a beer bottle down in front of me, and a little bit of foam seeped out of the top, reminding me of what I’d been doing with Adalyn. Picking up the bottle, I gave the liquid a sniff. It smelt like shit.

“What in the ever-loving fuck are you doin’, man?” I looked over at the man on the stool, his own beer bottle frozen halfway to his lips as he stared at me.

“Do you have a problem?”

“That’s a fucking loaded question these days,” he said before looking away, his eyes going to the television that was on mute above the bar. I followed his gaze up to the newscaster, and my mood perked up a little as I realized that emergency crews were still at the residential area trying to get the fires under control. Oh, I’d really been a naughty boy this time—the small stir in my gut at the thought had the corners of my mouth curving up.

Putting the bottle to my lips, I took my first sip of beer and then almost spit it back out. It tasted worse than it smelled. My face must have said exactly what I was thinking because the guy on the stool started to laugh, his hand smacking the top of the bar.

“What’s with that face? You never had a drink before?”

I shook my head back and forth.

“First time. How do you drink that crap?” I set the bottle down and shoved it away. How the hell my father drank those like water was beyond me.

“Holy fuck, a virgin,” the man yelled, not realizing that had a double meaning for me. I watched as he stood and got everyone’s attention. “Hey boys, we got a drinking virgin in our midst.”

A loud round of whoops rose behind me as the man on the stool picked up his beer and shifted closer.

“Name’s Spider,” he said, holding out his hand. I just stared at it.

“Spider? What kind of fucked up parent names their kid after an arachnid,” I asked, finally placing my hand in his. The man didn’t say anything and just stared at me before bursting out into laughter, shaking my hand roughly.

“Spider is what I go by now, but my name is Chase. Call me whichever you like.”

“Well, I don’t like spiders, so Chase it is. I’m DW.”

“What, your mama couldn’t think of a real name, so she just put two letters together?” Chase shot back, one-upping my momma joke. I shot the man a glare but then laughed.

“Like you, it’s what I prefer.”

“But you’re not going to tell me what it stands for, are you?” I shook my head no. “Well, alright then, DW, let’s get you some real drinks. I’m not letting you leave here still a virgin. Let’s get him one shot of everything you have, and it’s on me,” Chase said before grabbing my shoulder. “So, what brings you into a shithole like this?”

“I heard that,” the bartender mumbled under his breath.

“I can’t help it if it’s the fucking truth.” Chase leaned in a little closer—I could smell the scent of beer, cigarettes, and weed coming off him like it was his own personal cologne. “Woman issues?”

I shrugged, giving him a noncommittal answer as the first shot was laid on the bartop before me.

“Hey, where the fuck is mine?” Chase demanded, glaring at the bartender. The bartender rolled his eyes and slammed a second small glass down in front of Chase before filling it up with a brown liquid. “Alright, let’s get the cherry popping started.” Chase held up the shot glass. “This is whiskey. Ready?”

“Are you serious?”

“Fuckin’ right, I’m serious. Pick up the glass and swallow it in one go. On the count of three.” Not sure exactly why I was indulging the man, I picked up the glass. “One, two…three.” I tossed my head back and downed it, brown liquid burning as I swallowed.

I shook my head and squeezed my eyes closed as the hot burn of the alcohol slid down my throat and made my stomach feel like I’d just swallowed a ball of fire.