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"Perfect," Lucas said. "And then we have a dinner reservation at nine. That should be… interesting."
"With four escorts and your family?" I arched an eyebrow at him. "That might be the understatement of the year."
LUCAS
"The trick is," Nikki said, fanning herself, "to put the lime in your mouth before you've even swallowed. That makes the whole thing go down so much easier."
"How many of these have you done?" I asked. The world seemed to tilt as I examined the neat row of tequila shots lined up on the oak bar.
"Tonight? I dunno." Nikki shrugged and handed me another shot. "Don't worry about me. I do this all the time. This is like a Wednesday night in Southie for me, not a Friday night in Vegas. This"—she motioned to our party, a large part of whom were already intoxicated and showing it—"is strictly amateur night."
"You sure make it look easy." Jake squinted at Nikki suspiciously. "But I feel like I'm gonna puke already." I'd been keeping an eye on my friend as he'd had several bourbons on the plane, followed by a bottle of wine at dinner, then three tequila shots with Nikki. Former linebacker or not, he was starting to look a little green.
"See?" Nikki turned to me, jerking her thumb at Jake and clinking her glass to mine conspiratorially. "Amateur night."
"I'm not a freaking amateur," Jake said. He grabbed a shot off the bar and regarded it. "Let's do this. I'm a lot of things, but I'm no pussy."
Nikki downed her shot, raised an eyebrow at him, and placed the empty glass on the bar. "We'll see, big guy."
I finished off my shot then tapped Nikki on the shoulder. "You can't sleep with him. Stop flirting."
Her lip curled up. "I'm not flirting with him. He's a Democrat, for Christ's sake."
Jake's face turned stormy. "I'm from Massachusetts. Everybody from Massachusetts is a Democrat."
"Not me," Nikki said. "I'm a Libertarian. Now all we need's a decent candidate…"
Jake and Nikki looked ready to spar, but I held up my hand to stop them. My tongue felt thick and I was worried I wouldn't be able to get the words out. "Don't even hate fuck him, okay?" I begged Nikki. "I'll s'plain later."
Nikki nodded and knocked back another shot. "Got it, boss."
I scrunched my eyes up at her. "Did Blake tell you to call me that?"
"No." Nikki adjusted her dress and looked at me as if I were crazy.
"Where is she, anyway?" I turned around and looked through the bar with squinted eyes. That had been my seventh shot. Plus, all the wine I'd guzzled at dinner sitting across from my father, trying to numb my brain. I should have known better, but damn, I couldn't let Nikki drink me under the table.
But she was sitting upright, and I was squinting. Epic fail.
I saw Blake still sitting at the table with Serena, engrossed in a conversation about God only knew what.
"She's with your sister—oh, fuck," Jake said. "You better go get her. Rescue her and shit." His voice sounded slurry, but maybe my ears were just fuzzy.
"Okay." I stood up, not at all steadily. "Remember, I'm bunking with you tonight." I patted Jake on the chest.
"Right, right," he said, but I could tell I'd already lost his attention to Nikki. I headed over toward Blake and my sister. "Blakey," I interrupted, "can I talk to you?"
"Blakey?" Serena asked. The two bottles of wine she'd polished off at dinner had done nothing to help her attitude. "Seriously?"
"Seriously," I said. It came out srlsy.
My sister furrowed her brow and watched as Blake stood up and walked me out of Serena’s earshot, wrapping her arms around me to offer support.
"Did you do shots with Nikki? A lot of them?" she asked, clearly concerned as she struggled underneath my weight.
I nodded at her. I didn't want to seem like I couldn't carry my liquor, or worse, tell her I liked her.
"You need to go to bed." She turned back to Serena. "Will you excuse me? He clearly needs help."
