I open my tin of baccy and lift out a roll-up I made earlier. “You don’t need to worry. I’m quite content wallowing in my self-loathing.” I glare at him as he sits in Pa’s old armchair, looking just as authoritative as he would when giving me a dressing down.
Flicking my zippo, I light up, inhaling the familiar nicotine hit I’ve relied on lately. “Maybe I will get a dog. A Pit Bull Terrier trained to bite your ass every time you come round.”
He chuckles to himself. “Get changed.”
I pull my eyebrows inwards. “What for?”
“I’m taking you out.”
“Oooh on like a date?” I roll my eyes, then glance down at my joggers and t-shirt. “I look all right.”
“You’re not coming out with me like that. You need a shower and put a shirt on.”
The tendrils of smoke curl from my lips. “I’m not going out tonight. I can’t be arsed. There’s plenty of booze in the house.” I wave a hand towards the kitchen, even though I don't feel like drinking. Having a hangover is the last thing I want to add to my miserable life.
He digs his phone from his pocket. “I’m texting the lads. Either you get changed and we go to the bar, or I invite them round here.”
“Fine,” I growl, jumping from the seat. I stub the roll-up out in the overflowing ashtray to join the rest, then storm into the bathroom. At least if I go out, I can leave whenever I like. If the lads come round here, I'll never get rid of them.
* * *
Once showered and changed,Dan’s already on his third beer.
I straighten the collar of my black shirt. “Are we going then or what? Now you made me get all dressed up for you.”
“Let’s go.” He stands and unhooks my car keys. “You’ll have to drive, though.” He lifts the bottle with a grin.
I snatch the keys. “Fuck’s sake.”
With a pat on my back, he says, “You’ll thank me later.”
“What, when you’re wasted, and I’m stone cold fucking sober?” I jump in the Range Rover and spin the car, turning it around to drive back up the dirt road.
The whole way there, he’s texting the group with a grin on his face. I can’t believe he talked me into this. I don’t want to have to make small talk with people. Talking with him is bad enough. Although he’s right about one thing, I need to get back to work before my money runs out. I’ve done nothing since she left.
I haven’t even looked at the tracking app. Wanting to be a better man, I thought I should respect her privacy. Plus, it was too fucking painful. I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from driving to wherever she was. That’s if she still even has the lipstick.
“Where are we going, anyway?”
“The Black Crow. Kane and the lads are meeting us there.”
* * *
We walkin through the back door that leads straight to the pool room. Kane and Shane are already here. Shane takes his shot at the yellow ball, then strides over with a pat on the back. “How’s it going, man?”
“Sweet.” It’s a lie, of course, and they know it, but I’m not about to get into my feelings with them, not when we’re all out to have a good time. Only for some reason, I’ve ended up fucking driving.
“Get us a pint, brother.”
“I’ll have another pint if you’re going to the bar,” Kane says with a curl of his lip.
I pinch my brow. “Anyone else? Shane?”
He shakes his head, pointing to a non-alcoholic bottle. “Only so much of that shit I can drink, pal.” Looks like he got the short straw as well.
I walk through the door into the main bar area, weaving through the tables. It’s busy tonight. Some young punk band playing up front. The music’s all right, but a little loud. Fuck, I’m getting old.
When I get to the bar, Heather smiles. “Hey Dom, what can I get you?”
