Jess beamed. “As long as you understand my worth.”
Was she royal? Wycke observed her more closely. He pitied any king dumb enough to claim her for a queen. She’d take over and boot the king out in no time, as Wycke jokingly suggested to Saris many times.
“Anyhoo…” Jess said, leaning heavily on the bar. “My friend here…” She slapped Wycke on the back. He stumbled, grabbing hold of the bar to keep from pitching head-first into the floor. She squinted at him. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Pr… Wycke.”
“Wick? Oh, wicked.” She turned back to the bartender a bit too abruptly, almost leaving her barstool—the hard way. “Anyhoo, my friend Wicked here has a job, claims he isn’t an asshole, and won’t max out your credit cards and leave.”
The bartender’s face darkened all the way to his ears. He pulled the half-full glass of brown liquid away from the intoxicated woman.
She lunged for her prize, missing by a hand’s breadth. “Hey! I’m drinking that!”
The bartender leaned in, putting himself at Jess’s eye level. “You, missy, have had enough.”
Was her name Missy or Jess? So many names! Wycke had forgotten how weird humans in this realm could be.Speaking of names… He let out a sigh. He’d not been here but a few hours, and already he’d been labeled “Wicked.”
Whatever-her-name pouted. “You’re no fun.”
“Of course not. I tend bar and have to look out for the business's best interests. Which includes drunks who have a tendency to dance on the barstools—a definite safety hazard. I’m also your designated driver.”
“But you don’t even have a car,” she whined. “We walk.”
“Then I’m your designated walker. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve kept you from falling into gutters?” The bartender patted her arm. “Hang in there. I only have two more hours.” He faced Wycke. “Look, I’m sorry about what she might have told you. She’s always trying to hook me up. I’m sure you’re a nice guy, you’re more than hot, but really, I’m not interested. I’m only here to work.”
More than hot?
Did Jess call the man Piers?
Piers. Once more, thoughts tried to connect in Wycke’s brain, nearly meeting before flitting away again. Why couldn’t he hold thoughts? What had he been thinking again?
Piers huffed and pointed to the dance floor. “See the guy in the green T-shirt?”
The green made the man in question look even more like a flopping fish. “Yes.”
“He’s a sure thing. I don’t think he’s ever said the word no. Buh-bye. Have fun.” Piers went back to serving drinks.
Even when he’d been known as the enemy’s son, Wycke hadn’t received such a brutal rejection.Then again, he hadn’t come here to hook up.
Jess shrugged, mouthed, “Sorry,” promptly passing out on the bar.
“She’s getting over a bad breakup by hanging out with Jack,” Piers said while arranging drinks on a server’s tray.
Jack? Jack who? Piers showed no signs of interest and might come with a bit of drama, making him a bad choice.
Wycke lived for bad choices. Tomorrow he’d do Saris’s bidding. Tonight, could he indulge himself, try to forget the futility of his mission?
Jess popped back up like Wycke had seen a dead chicken do when returned to a semblance of life by a mage. “Wicked, tell Piers to gimme my drink back.”
“I believe the lady requires her drink,” Wycke relayed to Piers.Piers. What was it about that name?
“She’s had enough.” Piers secured the glass out of reach somewhere behind him and folded his arms over his chest. “She’s not going anywhere with you, so you might as well give up now.”
“I suppose she’s going home with you?” Interesting. Wycke didn’t normally misread cues.
Jess snorted. “I hope so since I’m his roommate.”
Piers wandered to the other end of the bar.
