I know that sound. I hold a hand up. “No, thanks. By all means, go ahead.”
He tilts his head. “I’ve got others. Powder. Vape. Bongs. Needles, if you’re going hard these days. These girls, they’ll do anything for a taste. Whatever you want, I’ve got you covered.”
“Not my scene anymore. But don’t let me stop you.”
He smirks. “Since when?”
“Since for a while.”
“You got religion?” he says.
“I got a girl,” I say. And self-respect. But if I say that, it’ll sound like I’m judging him. I am. But I don’t want him to know that.
He laughs as if I’ve told a joke. “You don’t have a girl. You got a part of a girl. Youshareher.”
Heat hits my ears. I keep my arms loose. “Watch your mouth.”
“They don’t care if you got part of a girl either. They’ll suck you dry. It’ll be like old times—see who finishes last.” He laughs and smacks my chest with the back of his hand, not seeing how much he’s pissing me off.
My stomach twists at the memory of those nights. Nights when I lost myself to pills and booze and women I don’t remember. Not even their faces. The same way Troy was in the hotel when I came for Lou’s stuff.
“That’s not who I am anymore, Mike.”
“You don’t wanna party, I’m not gonna make you. But be honest about why.”
“I am.”
He leans in. “Just because you found your little Yoko doesn’t mean you forget your friends, Salem.”
I look at the floor for a beat so I don’t break his face. When I look back up, I keep my voice flat. “She’s not a Yoko. Yoko wasn’t even a Yoko, not how you mean it. And reliving the old days won’t make you young again, Mike.”
He swings at me. Sloppy. Wide. Stoned.
I don’t give him the dignity of a full counter. I step in, open hand, and slap the taste out of his mouth. Fuck, that feels good.
He stumbles into the wall. The carbon leg clacks. One of the women gasps. The jacket guy puts his hands up like he’s the peacemaker. Security appears. They were waiting for the cue. Must have spotted his stoned ass a mile away.
Mike spits pink into a napkin and grins through it. “There he is. I knew I could find you.”
“You found a boundary. Don’t cross it again.”
“Man, you changed.”
“That’s what I keep hearing. Let’s call you a rideshare,” I say to his entourage, ignoring the bait. To security, “He doesn’t come back tonight. He doesn’t come back again. Ever.”
“Copy,” the guard says.
Mike points at me like I’m a mark in a bar bet. “You’ll call me when she breaks your heart.”
“No, I really won’t.” You don’t call people you outgrew years ago.
They walk him and his people out. He keeps talking until the door shuts on his voice. I shake my hands once and let theadrenaline run its circuit. Houston reappears and raises a brow. Knox steps back in and checks my jaw like I’m a little brother who got in a playground scuffle.
“He missed.”
“Yeah, I know. But you still don’t look like you.”
I brush his hand aside. “Asshole.”
