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I already know I’m going to confront Archer.
I feel safe here. I feel protected.
Like… who the fuck is he to just show up here, right?
And Archer being himself, he hasn’t moved an inch.
I approach him as he leans against a barstool.
Dressed in all black.
His eyes smoldering and deadly.
His right hand wrapped around a glass that I know isn’t filled with apple juice.
“So you’re a rock star now, sweet thing?” Archer asks.
“What are you doing here?”
“I didn’t see the sign that said I wasn’t allowed here.”
“This game between us…”
“Is it wrong to check on someone?”
“What?”
“Last time I saw you, Jaci,” Archer says as he stands up so he’s towering over me, “you were high as a kite. Did Cullen give you those pills? Did he force them on you?”
I scoff. “What is this? You’re worried about me? You care?”
“No,” he says. “Just want to make sure you don’t end up dead.”
“That’s almost romantic,” I say.
“No,” Archer says. “I want to be the one to do it. Remember?”
My heart sends chilly signals throughout the rest of my body.
“Only if I find out who I am,” I say.
“We’ll see,” he says.
Archer starts to turn and I grab for his arm. “What is your fucking problem? Huh? I didn’t do anything to you, Archer. And if my family did, then… what? I don’t even know who they are. So how is it fair that I pay for their actions?”
Archer smirks. “Welcome to the world of the mafia, sweet thing. Sometimes your blood is cursed. Can’t control it.”
“You know what, Archer? Fuck it.” I release my hold on him. “You can’t ruin my night. I just got to sing on stage with my favorite band.”
“I couldn’t even really hear you,” Archer says. “Are you any good?”
“Fuck off,” I say. “And, really, what are you doing here? Did you just come by to get me scared? If so, it didn’t work. Are you trying to piss off Cullen? He’s already pissed at you. You two hate each other. Don’t stick me in the middle. You’re not impressing anyone, Archer. It’s actually a little pathetic. No, excuse me, it’s a lot… pathetic…”
Archer snaps his fingers and the bartender rushes to him.
“Get her a drink,” Archer says. “Put it on the bar and walk away. So my ass doesn’t fry, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” the bartender says.
