Page 32 of The Surfer

The waitress whoops and excitedly brings the vodka over to me to drink.

Stop thinking about Ripley Sailor, just forget about her.

I gesture for the waitress to pour the bottle directly into my mouth. She does so, giggling. I open my lips and let the clear strong liquid in. Yeah, I’m an expert in drinking. The waitress whoops again and jiggles her tits in my direction.

She pulls the bottle back away from my mouth and I swallow the alcohol, winking at her. She winks back.

Then I turn to the rest of the booth.

And what I see nearly makes me spit out the vodka still stored in my mouth.

My sister, Sandy Finn, is standing in the booth. Standing there amongst the girls and my weed dealer, staring at me with her hands on her hips.

Shit.

To my knowledge, Sandy has never stepped a foot inside Tide. This place isn’t her scene at all, and I’ve never even seen her near the front doors. She hates this place and the people associated with it in the town. This club is off-limits to her.

And yet she’s still here, standing in the middle of my VIP booth and staring at me with a look that can launch a thousand daggers into my heart.

Shit.

“Sandy?” It’s all I can say.

She turns away from me to take in all the girls, my weed dealer, and the waitress I’ve been flirting with. “Everyone out, now,” my sister says with a tone I’ve rarely seen her use. No one in the booth moves, mostly out of shock and the fear of another member of the Finn family standing so imposingly over them. “Do you lot want my Dad to get involved?”

That’s more than enough to send them packing. In seconds everyone has hastily scrambled out of the VIP booth, including the waitress, leaving just me and my sister alone.

“I didn’t think so,” Sandy says to herself triumphantly.

Aw, she’s made everyone leave.

“What do you want, sis? Why have you come here?” I ask my sister dismissively. My initial shock is over and now I’m starting to get pissed off. Sandy has sent my friends and my potential fucks away, ruining my night before it’s even properly begun.

“You’re coming home. Now.”

I shake my head. “No.”

“What?”

I sit back down and lean against the soft leather back of the booth, exaggeratingly putting my foot up on the table and knocking off a shot glass. Sandy watches on with contempt. “I said no, I’m not coming home. Not now.”

I know what she’s talking about and why she wants me home.

Ripley Sailor.

This pretty girl’s gonna be the death of me.

Sandy sits down next to me in the booth, looking me deep in my eyes. “You know that Ripley is your last chance, right? Your very last chance. If you don’t do what Dad wants you to do and spend time with her and follow-through, then he will disown you. He will make you homeless, and that’s it. She’s your last chance and she’s already thinking of flying back to America in the morning. If she gets on that flight, then all your money goes out the door with her. Gone forever, you get me?”

I sigh. “Right.”

“So please,” Sandy says, leaning towards me. She’s being sincere, she’s actually pleading with me. “Please come home.”

I think about the nightclub. I think about the waitress and how we’d winked at each other.

I think about Ripley cutely pulling off my bedsheets this morning.

“Fuck it,” I reply, resigned.