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“I’m not tired from the sex.” I let the grin spread across my face while I recalled how mind-blowing it was. “Although, it was pretty damn good.”
“Stop! You’re making me jealous. Why are you so tired then?”
“I had a bad dream. It really bothered me. I couldn’t fall back to sleep after that.”
Four men strolled up to the bar, sitting on the stools directly in front of us. “Can we get a round of tequila?”
I began lining up shot glasses in front of them. “What are we celebrating?”
“My baby brother is getting married!” the loud one shouted. He slapped his brother on the back, several times too hard judging by the look on his face.
“Congratulations!” I poured the tequila over all four glasses, the way Dave had showed me earlier.
“You have to do one with us!” the loud one shouted.
I looked at Dave to find him sliding two more glasses my way. “The more you drink, the less annoying he gets,” he whispered.
I chuckled as I poured, excited to begin drinking. I handed one glass to Dave, and held the other up above my head. “To the groom, and his wife-to-be!”
The four men raised their shots with ours, threw them back, and slammed the empty glasses onto the bar. “Another!” they cheered.
I tried to hide my contorted facial expression as I choked the liquid down. “Are we doing another with them?”
Dave nodded. “You can just Coyote Ugly it if you don’t like the shot choice.”
I raised my eyebrow. “You want me to dance on top of the bar?”
“No!” He slapped his face with his palm. “It’s in the movie. The trick is to make them think you’re taking the shot. You pour it into your mouth, then make like you’re take a swig from a beer bottle – but you spit it out into the bottle, and nobody notices.”
“That’s disgusting, yet ingenious.”
“Watch me.”
I handed the men their shots, and watched as Dave backwashed his beer with tequila. It was flawlessly executed.
“Turn around when you do it,” Dave warned. “It can get messy the first few times you try it.”
I took the shot, but when I tried to spit it back out into the beer bottle, it sprayed all over the place like a busted garden hose. I ended up swallowing half of the tequila, and wearing the other half of it.
Dave laughed as he handed me a clean rag. “Maybe you shouldn’t do that again until you practice. I guess it’s safe to say you’re not a spitter.”
I tossed the rag at him. “My man has no complaints!”
“I’ll bet he doesn’t!” He twirled the rag and slapped my ass with it before turning back to the customers.
Dave and I were like a well-oiled machine, slinging drinks and making tips. I broke a sweat when the ten o’clock rush came in. We had taken two more shots, one with a birthday boy, and the other with a bachelorette. I was definitely feeling it more and more as the night went on, but the people in the bar were double as drunk, so no one noticed.
“I love this song!” Dave yelled. He pumped his fist in the air as he danced over to me. He took my hand, and twirled me around.
“Whoa,” I said, steadying myself as I gripped the bar. “No more twirls, or I’m going to hurl.”
He threw his head back as he laughed. “Are you drunk, New York? We’ve got to work on your tolerance!”
“I feel great. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I did feel great. My body felt loose and warm. It was then that I realized: my mind was defenseless when I was sober. Any and all thoughts could enter whenever they pleased, crowding my headspace and making me anxious. Alcohol acted like a bouncer, dragging them out and showing them the door. It protected me. All I had to do was drink until security showed up.
After I rang the bell for last call, Chase walked into the bar. He smiled when his eyes settled on me.
“That boy always looks like he stepped right off the Abercrombie billboard,” Dave swooned.
