"You need to get this trash under control," I spit out as rage boils up and threatens to explode.
"Where do I know you from?" The guard gets distracted.
"I don't know, dude, but if you don't take care of this, I'm going to do it for you."
A lightbulb seems to appear over this oblivious guard’s head. "I know. You hang with Dom's crew, right? I think I saw you with Beckett a few weeks ago."
I blink a couple times and try to place him in my memory, but I come up blank. Not that it matters. If he saw me with them, then he isn't wrong. There's no avoiding whatever fate has in store for me now that he's identified me as someone who hangs out with criminals.
"Yeah. That was me," I say, because I have nothing to hide and I'm sure as shit not letting Cora get in trouble for something I did.
The guard nods. "I thought so." He sighs and pulls his cuffs off his rinky-dink belt.
Fuck. The first chance I get to confess my feelings to Cora and take her on a date, I fuck it all up by decking a guy for disrespecting her.
"Yeah, fuck you and fuck whoever Beckett is," the drunk guy blabbers.
But instead of the guard cuffing me, he turns around and lifts his head briskly at the drunk. "Hands up, drunkie. Let's go see what management wants to do with you."
"What the fuck? This is an outrage...I'm a victim here." The drunk spits in my direction but it doesn't hit me, instead it speckles the concrete with his blood.
I flip him off, quickly turning it into a wave when the guard faces me.
"Sorry about this, son," the guard says. "Give my regards to the guys." He points to the badge on his shirt. "Jefferson. I work part-time at The Manor."
"Ohh." That's when it dawns on me where he must have seen me, and since that place is literally crawling with criminals, it's no surprise he's up to date on who's in charge around here. I guess my connection to them paid off instead of biting me in the ass.
He grips the drunk guy’s hands after he cuffs them and takes off in the direction he came from, leaving me and Cora to stand here in a sort of empty concession area.
"Uh, did you guys want something to drink?" The young cashier stands there with her arms crossed over her chest, her jaw working the piece of gum in her mouth. She blows a bubble, and it cracks loudly.
"Vodka diet," Cora chimes in and turns to me. "What do you want?"
I consider the question and how I'm already going to be in a shitstorm of trouble with Simon. One, for punching some dude and using his name to get out of getting in trouble. And two, for literally being on a date with his girl’s best friend. Do I really need to add drinking alcohol to the list of things he's going to be mad at me about?
"I'll have the same," I tell them, because what's the harm in havingonedrink. I mean, the game is probably going to last a couple hours—long enough for me to metabolize the booze and flush it down with a hotdog or something.
"And a lime if you have it," Cora adds.
"Lime for both of them?" The girl raises her eyebrow at me, still chomping on that hunk of gum in her mouth.
"Yeah, sure, fuck it." I reach into my pocket and pull out my money clip, stepping in front of Cora as she reaches into her small little purse thingy. I slide a hundred across the counter. "Keep the change."
"Thanks." The girl forces the biggest fake smile and goes to work making our drinks. She's sloppy but pours heavy, which is one thing I hate about getting mixed drinks. Unless the bartender is on top of their shit, there's no telling how much you're consuming. One minute you're pacing yourself and the next you're shit-faced because you drank a few triples instead of a single.
I take both of the drinks, handing one to Cora and grabbing her a straw.
"How did you know I wanted a straw?" she asks me.
I shrug and wink. "I know you."
"Oh, do you now?" She laughs and stirs her drink before taking a sip. "Tell me then, what's my favorite color?"
"Easy." I swirl my drink in an attempt to stir it knowing damn well all the booze has settled.
"Here." She plucks the straw out of her cup and shoves it in mine, mixing it around and taking it back out. "And if it's so easy, what is it?"
"Red, sometimes pink." I crane my neck to look for a nearby sign to tell me where we are. "What are our seats?"
