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Okay, shit, we were standing a bit too close. I saw too much for my drunken state—as in, my vision was surprisingly sharp—and I didn’t care enough to examine my behavior. But we’d just made eighty bucks, so that was something, eh?
Roe exhaled a sultry laugh and sent the patrons a flirty smirk. It was his turn, and he wasn’t hesitating anymore. He gave me a lime wedge that I kept between my teeth, and I tilted my head so he could pour salt on my neck.
Why was he—fucking hell, he was slowing things down. He put his hands on my sides and licked my neck slowly, and I looked up at the ceiling and released a breath. I wasn’t gonna analyze that feeling. I fucking wasn’t. It’d been a year since I’d gotten laid, and that was the only reason I reacted to his soft, wet tongue tracing my neck.
When he eased off and took the shot, I lowered my gaze again and found him watching me. He leaned in and up a bit, and I met him halfway so he could bite the lime. He took it from me, causing me to chuckle. The amusement in his eyes helped me come back down to earth again.
So that was the night we added Tequila Licking to the repertoire.
Jesus fuck.
*
“Jesus fuck.” I groaned and let my forehead meet the table.
I wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. Nothing. Not a damn thing.
Instead, I was sitting in our new podcast studio after four hours of sleep. The chairs were comfortable, the table less so. It wasn’t meant to be a pillow. I might leave it a bad review.
I might also still be drunk.
Tequila Licking, my fucking ass.
I’d like to say it would never happen again, but the money was so damn easy.
Three shots, two hundred and forty bucks.
If my math was correct, Roe and I had made over nine hundred bucks each last night.
“Look alive, bro!”
I winced as Roe entered the room and dumped something on the table.
I managed to lift my head, and I scrubbed my hands over my face. How the fuck was he so chipper? Was he on drugs? My ma had warned me. LA people did a lot of drugs.
I’d just barely had the energy to take a shower, dig out a pair of sweats, and then come in here and collapse into one of the chairs. Meanwhile, Roe had gone out and bought us breakfast. He flipped open a bakery box to reveal donuts, and that wasn’t all. He’d bought coffee, juice, strawberries, and Gatorade too.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
I grunted noncommittally and reached for the coffee with my name on it.
Oh God, that was so good. I closed my eyes and took another sip.
I hoped he didn’t need better lighting. I’d drawn the curtains shut, so the only source of light came from the lamp on the lonely nightstand in the corner.
I heard him working the ice machine in the kitchen, so I asked him to bring me a glass of water.
“Already on it!”
I exhaled.
Maybe I would survive.
My chances were increasing, even more so when he returned with a bottle of painkillers too. I’d completely forgotten.
“Okay, I love you,” I muttered.
“Score,” he chuckled. “You just focus on resuscitating yourself while I go through my list.”
Solid plan. It felt a bit weird to be on this side of the tech responsibility. I was usually the one who handled all that, but he’d insisted for the podcast. He wanted to learn more—and I could tell he’d researched a lot. He’d hooked us up with great microphones, he’d bought a new laptop, headphones, and software, and I’d caught him a few times trying things out.
As always, he brought good content to the table. I liked his idea.
After downing a couple painkillers, I reached for a donut and prayed some sugar would help the headache fuck off. Grandma said the only cure for a hangover was time, but while we waited, it was okay to fool ourselves with whatever poison we preferred.
I put on a pair of headphones while Roe practiced his intro and messed around on the laptop.
I was glad we’d agreed to release five prerecorded episodes before we sat down again to decide when to do these live. I liked the option of editing. Even though it required more work, the production would be cleaner and better quality. Those were my two cents.
“Good morning, you’re Off Topic with Roe Finlay and Jake Denver. I’m Roe, and Jake is hungover as hell. Can you give us a sound, buddy?”
I snorted softly and took a bite of the donut. “Insert retching noises,” I joked lamely.
Roe grinned and leaned back in his seat. “Speaking of you devouring that donut, we were gonna discuss the latest focus-group results we got from the network.”
