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Hoping to see Drey…
No. I didnotjust think that. What was it with me and wanting guys who didn’t want me? I was sick in the head.
“Fine. I’ll go get my own.” I slid off the stool.
“You okay, Sarah?” Hunter’s deep voice sliced through the music.
“Yeah. You kick his ass for me?”
“To the curb, girl.” He leaned in. “But I thought you were going to lay off the booze like we talked about.”
I shrugged. He’d been helping me a lot, but the dreams…they hurt too much. I couldn’t stand them anymore.
He stood straight, his face tense suddenly. “Bill, what’s wrong?”
I whirled around, my heart hammering through the drunken stupor that’d calmed it down. Had Nicco found me? Bill knew a little about my situation considering I sublet my studio from him.
“Drey’s down,” he said, his face grim. “He’s down hard.”
“Is he okay?” I asked, suddenly sober.
“Didn’t sound great. He’s six minutes from here. I’m on my way.”
“I’m coming,” Hunter said.
“Me too.” I stepped toward Hunter.
“No. You’re drunk.”
“I’m fine.” I kept going. I was a little drunk, but the mention of Drey being in trouble chased away the fuzziness of the four drinks I’d downed.
“You’re not driving with me,” Hunter said.
Yeah, I couldn’t blame him. I was always so grabby when it came to him. At least before he was all into Angelina, his wife. He had never gone out with me, though. Maybe that was why I’d tried so hard to seduce him.
Then again, I didn’t know how to do much else but seduce. It was how I lived for so long; it was a hard lifestyle to shake.
“I’ll take her,” Bill said. “Come on.”
No way. I didn’t want another silent lecture from Bill. I’d much rather he yell at me or hit me or do something tangible. The silent glares with those dark eyes were way more painful.
Being a father figure to all of us messed-up idiots fit him well. A littletoowell. Not that I had any idea how a real father was supposed to act.
Hunter pulled out his phone, probably to text his wifey-wife. He was such a good guy. Too good for me. He was right to reject me every single time I’d thrown myself at him…
Okay, maybe riding with Bill was better. Total embarrassment burned through my buzz for sure.
I followed the old guy out and was actually surprised how quickly he moved and how agile he was. He was over fifty, gray hair, and a 350-pound tower of flesh and muscle.
I knew he had one hell of a life story, but I hadn’t ventured into that area yet. I’d known him a year and had told him enough about my situation to make him understand my need for anonymity.
Surprisingly, he was very helpful…and understanding.
At least he didn’t look at me like a disgusting, used dishrag… like I saw myself.
“You sober enough to do this?” Bill asked.
“I’m good.” The idea of Drey hurt had seriously sobered me up, which was surprising in itself.Sort of.
