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“And who the fuck served you?”
“Ellie Ross.”
I should’ve done a one-eighty and hightailed it when I spotted Maliki behind the bar. Instead, I made Ellie play waitress and deliver my drinks to our table. Like last time, I sat in the corner. And also like last time, I had to abandon my spot for a restroom break. I shouldn’t be punished for being a few months shy of turning twenty-one. It’s not like I’m asking Sir Checks-ID-a-Lot to fill my sippy cup to the brim with vodka.
He takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his thick hair. “Jesus. You need to stop thinking you’re a grown-up.”
“Iama grown-up.” I count down my reasons of argument on my fingers. “I’m legally old enough to play the lottery, buy cigarettes, and hell, even do porn.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Interesting. I’d love to witness your father’s face if the last one ever happens.”
“So, deal?” I hold my hand out once more, this time for him to shake.
Again, he ignores it.
It falls slack to my side.
“As I explained before, you might be old enough to place bets and fuck, but you’re too young to drink, Pageant Queen.”
I yank the ID from him. “I’ve changed my mind. You won’t be blessed with my business when I turn twenty-one. My money will be spent elsewhere.”
“Perfect.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Now, this is the part where you call someone to pick you up. You know the drill.”
“Kyle motherfucking Lane!”
I gasp, and my chest tightens at the sound of the name yelled.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Maliki mutters under his breath, scrubbing a hand over his stressed face.
I see Kyle—my overprotective, older, police-officer brother—strolling through the bar with a cocky smile.
Kyle is cool but not cool enough to be okay with my being here. And even though Maliki wasn’t the one serving me booze, he’ll be held responsible. It’shisbar.
My gaze swings back to the pissed off, broad-shouldered man, and his expression confirms we share the concern. He grips my hand and rushes us to his office. The door shuts, and I spin around, scowling at him.
“Call the person who picked you up last time you were a pain in my ass. You have an hour, Princess, or I’m ratting you out to your brother.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I hiss.
Maliki can easily snitch on me. He owes me nothing. And my money is on Kyle believing him.
He stares at me in challenge. “Care to find out?” His voice drips with an authority that causes me to shiver.
I gulp, turning quiet while figuring out my next move.
“Call someone, Sierra. Don’t make me cause problems and tell your brother what you do in your spare time when he orders a beer from me in five minutes.”
He starts to leave, but I stop him.
“The person who picked me up last time wasEllie Ross.The real Ellie Ross,” I explain in exasperation. “And she’s the person I rode with tonight. She’s hammered, so I need another plan.”
There’s no Uber here, and my mom is friends with the only taxi driver in town.
“You have no other friends?”
“Not one willing to leave because I’m getting booted.”
He grabs a remote from the desk, seeming to accept my answer, and tosses it to me.
