“Who are you talking about, Austin? Hey, do you have anything here that’s nonalcoholic?”
The only thing that seemed to matter to Will was to make sure his friend was drinking water and then bringing him home.
“Do I look like a waiter, Cooper? I’m the owner. Ask them,” answered Austin, pointing at the waiters with bottle service.
I didn’t notice at first, but they were everywhere. Waiting tables, behind the bar, around metal poles.
My eyes went wide as I realized that I was in a strip club. I was surrounded by men dressed in somewhat nice suits and girls who danced suggestively as the low lights emphasized their curves. Their outfits were the definition of what my mom called trashy. One of them passed by James and winked, but he seemed to focus what little attention he had left on Ethan Austin.
“Hey, Austin, how’s your girlfriend?”
“Is he the guy James owes money to?” I asked Will.
He squeezed my hand harder. “Ethan’s his son.”
“James talks to him like that? Isn’t he afraid of getting beat up again?”
“Why do you think he’s always getting into shit? He’s not afraid of anything, June. That’s the issue.”
William sounded exasperated, and I got frustrated. “I don’t know anything because you never told me about an accident, Will.”
“Trust me, that’s for the best. I don’t want to put you in danger.”
He leaned toward me and touched my face with his fingertips before planting a kiss on me. It was less romantic than usual, maybe because of where we were. I didn’t even close my eyes; in fact, I saw James chug another bottle nearby.
“James, quit drinking! Will, don’t get distracted,” I exclaimed.
Austin disappeared. William grabbed James by his jacket sleeve again and took the bottle of vodka out of his hands.
“You won the poker game, yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“Did they give it back to you?”
James shook his heads. “No gun.” I froze.
I saw James hold back an almost irritating childish smirk that reminded me of his brother. Then he turned around toward me, surprised.
“Fuck, White. You’re here too?”
“Well, aren’t you the sharpest tool in the shed?” I replied acidly as Will leaned against the counter to order some water.
James curved his lips and stared vacantly at my mouth.
He was clearly rip-roaring drunk, and his red cheeks didn’t point to anything good either. “And why are you here again?” he whispered in a tone that sent a chill down my spine.
I was overwhelmed by conflicting emotions a moment later. His cobalt eyes looked so bright in the dark that they reminded me of the brushstrokes my mom used to intensify the ocean in a storm. A cocktail of conflicting sensations surfaced in me. I was reliving what he’d said in his room. It wasn’t just sadness that seeped into his story last night. There was fear, rage, and lack of understanding. I’d just seen the tip of the iceberg while the rest remained under the cold waters of his eyes. It was too deep to swim there.
“He’s drunk. We’d better get him home. And I’m not a fan of these people,” Will said, handing a water bottle to his friend, who pretended to take a sip. I saw a group of shady guys around a table overflowing with glasses and half-open bottles. They were most likely from the Austin family. I decided I’d play detective another time because the oldest one was looking at me in a way that made me uneasy. We left. Neither Jackson nor Marvin were there, nor was his cousin.
Will pointed at Jackson’s fire engine–red pickup truck in the parking lot as James kept laughing. He’d managed to steal a bottle of tequila without anyone noticing, and he found that particularly exhilarating.
“Lie down in back and don’t make a mess,” Will commanded.
“Why is White here?”
James was distracted by me, so William turned around to the back seat and took the bottle out of his hands. “This. Well, no. I won’t give it back to those assholes. Here, June, I’m gonna call Marvin and Jax. Let’s go home.”
