The second is his genius made into a straw.
I take three deep breaths in through my nose, out through my mouth.
Then, I smile at the dickhead in front of me.
“Do you mind ordering some appetizers? I’ve been waiting for a while, and I’m afraid the drinks are going to my head,” I offer him my best pouty smile.
Dash stands straighter, turns away slightly, then signals for the bartender. I jam the straw into my drink, and it immediately turns black.
Cocksucker.
I can only hope Dash hasn’t seenThe Princess Bride.
I swap our drinks, then throw the straw back into my purse.
He turns back to me a second later. I hold up my glass. “Alrighty then. What shall we drink to?”
Dash clinks his glass with mine. “Let’s drink to old friends and new beginnings.”
I internally applaud myself for not throwing up on his lap, then sip at the cocktail. A hopefully clean cocktail because those drug-revealing straws are only suitable for one use.
Dash knocks back half of his drink before I even place my glass down on the bar. His devilish smile sends shivers down my spine as he watches for me to go numb.
He’s a fucking idiot.
I send a text to the one person who would jump all over this and send the cavalry.
Within a couple of minutes, Dash frowns, then sways in front of me. “Whasssss goin’ on?”
I grin. “What’s going on is that you’ve forgotten the first rule of dating.”
“Whasssat?”
“There can be noseductionwithout adiscussion,” I poke him in the shoulder. He nearly falls on his face. “Consent is the most important thing in sex. Something you tend to overlook.”
He tries to move his arms. They’re not cooperating.
Tell me about it, dickhead. I know the feeling.
“What’s the matter, Dash? Not a fan of your date rape drugs? Oh, yeah. I switched up those glasses. There’s no way under the fucking sun I’d ever drink something you handed me,” I spit out. “And you’ll never get close enough to touch me, ever again!”
Police sirens sound in the distance.
Dash manages to turn toward the windows then falls on his face. I bend down and smile my evil smile at him. “This time, you’re going to jail for slipping date rape drugs into a woman’s cocktail. This time there will be nomisunderstandingof what you were trying to do. I’m no longer afraid of you. You’re going to prison, dickhead.”
“Ma’am, we need you to stand back,” a Flamingo Cove police officer touches my arm.
“This man roofied my drink,” I point to Dash. “I switched the drinks when he looked away. The evidence is over there on the bar. I’m sure if you pull the surveillance video, you’ll see him slip the drug into my glass before I swapped them out.”
The officer looks at Dash. “What happened to him?”
“A big taste of his own medicine,” I kick Dash in the ribs. “Sorry. I have restless leg syndrome. Sometimes they have a mind of their own.”
The officer bites back a smile. Another officer slaps on gloves and pours the tainted drink into a jar for testing. Dash is handcuffed and placed into the back of an ambulance while paramedics hook him up to IV fluids.
“We’ll need you to come with us to give a statement,” Officer One says.
I nod and follow him to the squad car.
