“Whoa,” Jax holds up a hand. “Maybe slow down a little.”
I glare at him as I hold the bourbon. Do I look like an alcoholic? Maybe, but it’s not like anyone’s looking at me except for my brother and his wife, who is also my best friend. And she really has always been there for me. I actually feel a little sentimental thinking about our friendship. Which isn’t like me. Maybe I’m drunker than I thought.
Oh well.
I’m still taking this second shot.
Let it burn.
3
Joey
Jax thinkshe’s got everything figured out now that he’s with Julia.
Yeah, I’m still dwelling on our conversation and haven’t budged from my booth. It’s not like I got anything else to do. Jax presumes to know what I want. That deep down, I want real love and my string of one-night stands is just a desperate attempt after another to distract myself from the gaping hole at the center of my soul.
But maybe I should cut him some slack. He means well. And he can’t help that he’s happy and madly in love. Of course, it’s going to tinge his view of things. I just wish he didn’t say stuff like “It’ll happen for you too” and “There’s someone out there for everyone.” The last thing I wanna hear right now is motivational jargon.
I’m feeling low and aimless. This was supposed to be a night full of reflection, and so far, it’s just been . . . depressing.
I take a sip of water before looking around.
The women in the bar beckon. They’re getting more tipsy by the minute. Their laughter bubbles around me like an enchanted fountain. Their smiles flash like the glint of precious gems. And their bodies . . . their bodies . . . even a wordsmith like me can’t describe how hot they all are. And I do mean allof them. I’m not one of those guys who’s only attracted to a specific body type. I like all women, plain and simple.
And I think they like me too.
Okay, maybe I am starting to feel my resolve weaken. Just a little. I’m only human after all. And maybe Jax is right. Maybe the best way to honor Sully’s memory is to get off my ass and —
No.
I’m staying strong, damn it.
This was never supposed to be fun or even make sense. Sully’s death didn’t make a lick of sense, so why should my way of remembering him be any different?
I told myself I wouldn’t drink. So, I won’t. It’s as simple as that.
As if on cue, three women — I don’t know their names, but I recognize them as regulars — come over to my booth. My guess is they’re in their late twenties, and are clearly excited to be out. They’re all dolled up, and glow with a drunken energy.
“You look like you could use a drink,” one of them says. She’s a little on the chubby side and has a cute face. On another night, I might take her up on her offer. But like I told Jax, not tonight.
“I’m not drinking tonight,” I tell her with a polite smile.
“That’s a shame,” she giggles.
“Yeah?”
“You’re cute,” her friend says, who seems to be the drunkest of the three. She plops down next to me. I can smell the perfume on her neck and the booze on her breath. Her hair is copper — the type of red you only see in movies, which makes me think it’s dyed. I think she’s trying to look sexy, but truthfully — it’s kind of a turn-off. She’s staring at me with vacant eyes and her mouth is hanging open.
“Hi there,” I say, and lean back. There’s clearly no getting out of this, so I might as well just roll with it.
“I like this one,” copper-hair giggles, turning to her friends.
This one. Ha. At least she’s not hiding the fact she’s basically shopping for a man. I’m not offended. Just not in the mood.
“Can I keep him?” my new booth mate slurs, before turning back to me with a naughty grin.
Well, there it is. The lower lip bite.
