It was weird, come to think of it, that he hadn’t seen Landon at all today. Junior had mentioned Landon had asked after him, but that had been hours ago.
Whatever.
Noah turned away from where Alistair was chatting up two women in matching bikinis about whatever, and he thrust his empty glass at Junior.
“Hey. Get me another one. DJ Quigs is about to go on.”
“In a second.” Junior ignored him, looking down at his phone.
“Hey, now!” Noah impatiently shoved the glass at him again.
“Fuck off.” Junior pushed the glass back. “You can go on and lick my balls.”
“Get me a fuckin’ drink, asshole,” Noah snapped.
“Noah,” Alistair was quick to warn.
“Get me a fuckin’ drink,please?”
“Excuse me, ladies. It’s been a pleasure. I do hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.” Alistair smiled at the women before he turned to grab Noah’s arm and give him a firm squeeze.
“Hey, what?” Noah frowned. “I wanted another drink.”
“You may have one at dinner if you behave yourself.”
“Dinner?” Noah didn’t know why, but Alistair’s stern tone pissed him off then. He usually found it sexy, but right now it made him feel like a little kid getting fussed at.
It was too reminiscent of every fight he’d ever had with Uncle Patrick—the same condescending manner that said Noah was stupid and small, and he absolutely hated it.
The women in the matching bikinis were watching and giggling behind their hands, and Noah’s face burned.
“Yes, dinner,” Alistair said. “Is the promise you made so meaningless already?”
“What promise? I didn’t promise shit.” Noah tried to pull his arm away. He was getting embarrassed, and he just wanted to go watch the show. He wanted to get away from those women laughing at him as quickly as possible, but Alistair wouldn’t let go.
“Stop right now,” Alistair hissed. His grip tightened, and he pulled Noah close. “Stop before you make a scene.”
Noah narrowed his eyes, and his temper flared. “Oh, you don’t want me to make a scene, huh?” He raised his other hand to throw the glass. “I’ve got your fuckin’ scene right here!”
Effortlessly, Alistair snatched the glass away and passed it over to Junior. He twisted Noah’s arm, forcing him to face toward the house and walk forward.
It happened so quickly that Noah didn’t even protest at first because it took several seconds for his brain to register what was going on.
And once it did, he was pissed.
“Ow, what the fuck?” Noah tried again to break free, but Alistair pushed his elbow up into his spine and nearly made him double over in pain. “Hey! You mean ol’ fuck! Chill out! I just wanna go to the fuckin’ show!”
Alistair said nothing, continuing to guide Noah to the house.
Noah bucked one last time, and he clumsily bumped into a young man who had been lingering by the back door. Whatever drink he’d been holding spilled and splashed all over Noah’s shirt, and Noah screamed angrily, “You dumb fuck! Why don’t you watch where you’re going?”
“Whoa!” The young man jerked in surprise. “Uh, you ran into me, dude.” He frowned at Alistair. “Mr. Star, is your little boyfriend okay?”
That made Noah even more angry, and he shouted, “Hey! Fucker! Why don’t you get the fuck out of here before Mr. Star’s boyfriend kicks the shit outta you?”
“Fuck you, dude!” the young man barked, swinging back to hit Noah with the cup in his hand.
Noah twisted away, but he knew he wasn’t going to be fast enough to dodge it and cringed expectantly.
