“Dunno.”
The bartender walked over to us and eyed me suspiciously, like always.
“What can I get you?”
“I’ll have an old fashioned,” Melodie said, and slid her sparkly eyes toward me. “And he’ll have…”
The bartender cut her off. “ID?”
When I gave Melodie a sheepish look, she surfed her purse for her own ID and looked at me again.
“The kids menu then,” the bartender said to me, and I felt my jaw clench.
“How old are you, No Name?”
“I’m twenty,” I said, and then added, “Don’t start.”
Melodie rolled her eyes.
“Natalie needs to get you a laminate.” To the bartender, she said, “Give him a Shirley Temple.”
My cheeks flamed with heat.
“A fucking Shirley Temple? Really?”
“Yes, little baby. You want an extra cherry? It’s better you stay sober, to be honest.”
“Ugh. No…and why?”
Melodie smiled, satisfied, and fixed her tits in the reflection of the glass behind the bar. “You said you wanted to learn.”
“I didn’t realize sobriety was part of the curriculum.”
She smirked. “It absolutely is for your first hunt.”
The bartender slid the drinks over, and Melodie took a sip, then nearly downed the thick liquid. I just wrapped both hands around the glass of my stupid girly drink like it was an emotional support animal.
She stared at me and smiled wider.
“What?”
“You look like a virgin in a nightclub.”
“Shocker.”
Another burst of laughter escaped her.
“Okay, rule number one.”
“I already hate it.”
“Stop hunching your damn back, and stop looking at the floor.”
“I’m standing.”
She caught my gaze and lifted my head with her nail like the Mistress always did.
“Stop, dude. It’s like you’re apologizing.”
