Page 42 of Silent Damage

The bartender knocks his hand on the bar. “No, you’re smashed. Go home.”

Home.

“I don’t got a home!” I scream at the top of my lungs while kicking the bar. “No one wants me. I want another drink.” I reach into my pocket, hoping that, by some miracle, money magically fell in there, but no such luck. “Fuck.” I give Angie my best puppy-dog eyes.

“Nuh-uh,” she says, pointing her finger at me. “I’m not contributing any more funds to the mess you’re becoming.”

Goddamn, I need another drink. I look around and see a group of guys playing darts.

Bingo.

There's water on the bar, so I snag it and down the full glass in one gulp before making my way to the group.

But then I stop.

My eyes land on a man with dark, wavy hair. His back is to me, but I swear it’s—

Did he follow me here?

Butterflies take flight in my stomach.

Did he ignore me?

He had to have seen me—he just shows up to play darts with his friends and freaking ignores me?

I rush forward, closing the distance between us, but when I turn the guy around, it’s not Gabe.

My heart sinks to my stomach.

He didn’t follow me here.

The stranger looks at me as I sway on my feet. “You good, man?” he asks.

His question reminds me that I’m not good. I’m broke as fuck and need another drink.

I press my finger into his chest. “You’re pretty shitty at darts, you know that?”

He shoots me a look. “The fuck you say?”

“I bet you couldn’t hit a blimp three feet in front of you,” I add.

A second guy with a red bandana on his head steps forward. “Why don’t you go fuck off before you get your ass beat?”

Perfect. There’s always one that takes the bait.

“Ha!” I get right in his face. “You? Beat my ass? I bet you fifty bucks I’ll have you on the ground in less than five minutes.”

Bandanna Joe laughs and yells to the bartender. “Hey, Sammy. This guy wants to bet fifty bucks he can whoop my ass.”

“Take it in the alley—none of that shit inside,” the bartender hollers back.

Angie comes over. “Sugar, why don’t you go home? You’ve had yourself a fun night on my dime; now get some sleep.”

I lean closer and whisper, “Wanna see a show?”

Even in my drunk state, I can see the flash of excitement in her face. I tear off my shirt and toss it on the floor, flexing the lean muscle I hide beneath my clothing.

She looks me up and down.