Abby flicked the ID, and it popped out of my grasp, but she caught it midflight to the floor, and within seconds it was hidden away inside her wallet.
She smiled, and I smiled back, leaning on my elbows. “Jessica James?”
She mirrored my position, leaning on her elbows and matching my stare. She was so confident. It was incredibly sexy.
“Yeah. So?”
“Interesting choice.”
“So is the California Roll. Pansy.”
Shepley burst into laughter, but stopped abruptly when America chugged her beer. “Slow down, baby. The sake hits late.”
America wiped her mouth and grinned. “I’ve had sake, Shep. Stop worrying.”
The more we drank, the louder we became. The waitstaff didn’t seem to mind, but that was probably because it was late and there were only a few others on the far side of the restaurant, and they were almost as drunk as we were. Except Shepley. He was too protective of his car to drink too much while driving, and he loved America more than his car. When she came along, he not only watched his intake, but he also followed every traffic law and used his blinkers.
Whipped.
The waitress brought the check, and I tossed some cash on the table, nudging Abby until she scooted out of the booth. She elbowed me back playfully, and I nonchalantly threw my arm around her while we walked across the parking lot.
America slid into the front seat next to her boyfriend, and began licking his ear. Abby looked at me and rolled her eyes, but regardless of being a captive audience to the peep show, she was having a good time.
After Shepley pulled into the Red, he drove through the rows of cars two or three times.
“Sometime tonight, Shep,” America muttered.
“Hey. I have to find a wide space. I don’t want some drunken idiot dinging the paint.”
Maybe. Or he was just prolonging the tongue bath his inner ear was getting from America. Sick.
Shepley parked on the edge of the lot, and I helped Abby out. She pulled and tugged at her dress, and then shook her hips a little bit before taking my hand.
“I meant to ask you about your IDs,” I said. “They’re flawless. You didn’t get them around here.” I would know. I’d purchased many.
“Yeah, we’ve had them for a while. It was necessary . . .”
Why in the hell would it be necessary for her to have a fake ID?
“. . . in Wichita.”
The gravel crunched under our feet as we walked, and Abby’s hand squeezed mine as she navigated the rocks under her heels.
America tripped. I let go of Abby’s hand in reaction, but Shepley caught his girlfriend before she hit the ground.
“It’s a good thing you have connections,” America said, giggling.
“Dear God, woman,” Shepley said, holding her arm before she fell over. “I think you’re already done for the night.”
I frowned, wondering what the hell it all meant. “What are you talking about, Mare? What connections?”
“Abby has some old friends that—”
“They’re fake IDs, Trav,” Abby said, interrupting before America could finish. “You have to know the right people if you want them done right, right?”
I looked to America, knowing something wasn’t right, but she looked everywhere but at me. Pushing the issue didn’t seem smart, especially since Abby had just called me Trav. I could get used to that, coming from her.
I held out my hand. “Right.”
She took it, smiling with the expression of a hustler. She thought she’d just pulled one over on me. I’d definitely have to revisit that later.
“I need another drink!” she said, pulling me toward the big red door of the club.
“Shots!” America yelled.
Shepley sighed. “Oh, yeah. That’s what you need. Another shot.”
Every head in the room turned when Abby walked in, even a few guys with their girlfriends were shamelessly breaking their necks or leaning back in their chairs to get a longer look.
Oh, f**k. This is going to be a bad night, I thought, tightening my hand around Abby’s.
We walked to the bar closest to the dance floor. Megan stood in the smoky shadows by the pool tables. Her usual hunting ground. Her big, blue eyes locked on me before I even recognized it was her standing there. She didn’t watch me long. Abby’s hand was still in mine, and Megan’s expression changed the moment she saw. I nodded at her, and she smirked.
My usual seat at the bar was open, but it was the only one open along the bar. Cami saw me coming with Abby trailing behind, so she laughed once, and then brought my arrival to the attention of the people sitting on the surrounding stools, warning them of their impending eviction. They left without complaint.
Say what you want. Being a psychotic ass**le had its perks.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Seeing Red
BEFORE WE REACHED THE BAR, AMERICA PULLED HER best friend to the dance floor. Abby’s hot pink stilettos glowed in the black light, and I smiled when she laughed at America’s wild dance moves. My eyes traveled down her black dress, stopping on her hips. She had moves, I’d give her that. A sexual thought popped into my mind, and I had to look away.
The Red Door was fairly crowded. Some new faces, but mostly regulars. Anyone new walking in was like fresh meat to those of us who didn’t have the imagination for anything but showing up at the bar every weekend. Especially girls that looked like Abby and America.
I ordered a beer, chugged half of it, and then turned my attention back to the dance floor. Staring wasn’t voluntary, especially knowing I probably had the same expression on my face as every schmuck watching them.
The song ended, and Abby pulled America back to the bar. They were panting, smiling, and just sweaty enough to be sexy.
“It’s going to be like this all night, Mare. Just ignore them,” Shepley said.
America’s face was screwed in disgust, staring behind me. I could only imagine who was back there. Couldn’t have been Megan. She wasn’t one to wait in the wings.
“It looks like Vegas threw up on a flock of vultures,” America sneered.
I glanced over my shoulder, and three of Lexi’s sorority sisters were standing shoulder to shoulder. Another of them stood next to me with a bright smile. They all grinned when I made eye contact, but I quickly turned around, chugging the last half of my beer. For whatever reason, girls that acted that way around me made America pretty cranky. I couldn’t disagree with her vulture reference, though.
I lit a cigarette, and then ordered two more beers. The blonde next to me, Brooke, smiled and bit her lip. I paused, unsure if she was going to cry or hug me. It wasn’t until Cami popped the tops and slid the bottles over that I knew why Brooke had that ridiculous look on her face. She picked up the beer and started to take a sip, but I grabbed it from her before she could, and handed it to Abby.
“Uh . . . not yours.”
Brooke stomped off to join her friends. Abby, however, seemed perfectly content, taking man-size gulps.
“Like I would buy a beer for some chick at a bar,” I said. I thought it would add to Abby’s amusement, but instead she held up her beer with a sour look on her face.
“You’re different,” I said with a half smile.
She clinked her bottle against mine, clearly irritated. “To being the only girl a guy with no standards doesn’t want to sleep with.” She took a swig, but I pulled the bottle from her mouth.
“Are you serious?” When she didn’t respond, I leaned in closer for full effect. “First of all . . . I have standards. I’ve never been with an ugly woman. Ever. Second of all, I wanted to sleep with you. I thought about throwing you over my couch fifty different ways, but I haven’t because I don’t see you that way anymore. It’s not that I’m not attracted to you, I just think you’re better than that.”