Nah. He just wasn’t drunk yet. Though he usually didn’t drink enough to actually get drunk. He only drank until he mellowed.
A hush fell over the bar, and Logan turned to see Steve standing on a table and searching the crowd. “Logan!” he yelled. “Where the hell did you run off to, bro?”
Someone shoved Logan in the back, and he stumbled forward, his movement catching Steve’s attention.
“There you are. Candice and Tonya have agreed to a little game of double or nothing.”
“I don’t want to play. Pick someone else.” Why didn’t he want to play? It was his favorite game of all time, and the rewards were guaranteed to blow his mind. Or his load. Mostly his load.
“Awww, I think someone is pussy whipped,” Steve called to the bar patrons, getting everyone in the place chanting: “Pussy whipped. Pussy whipped. Pussy whipped.”
“Fuck you,” Logan shouted over the chanting. “You’re going down, Aimes.”
A knot formed in Logan’s gut as Steve’s two women removed their tops and lay on their backs, head to head across the wooden bar. They were still wearing their bras—which was a bit of a relief—but Toni wouldn’t like him playing this game. And she really wouldn’t like it if he won. The prize was a threesome with the two ladies. Logan wasn’t sure if Steve would purposely throw the game so Logan had to admit he didn’t want to bang the two hot chicks or if Steve honestly wanted a competition. Dude was almost as competitive as Logan was.
“Logan,” Reagan said, tugging on his arm. “Don’t hurt her. She’s such a sweet girl.”
He pretended he didn’t know Reagan was talking about Toni. “I’m sure they’re both sweet girls,” Logan said, “which is why they agreed to fuck the winner of this game. They won’t be sweet when I’m finished with them.”
Many of the male patrons at the bar cheered his boasting.
Once Trey had collected his cock-blocking pest of a girlfriend and the game had been set up, Logan stood next to the knees of one participant and waited for the festivities to begin. He couldn’t make it obvious that he was losing on purpose; he’d never live it down. At the very least, he had to make it look like he was trying.
“Go!” Steve shouted.
Logan leaned over the woman’s crotch, used his teeth to pick up the shot glass balanced on her pelvis, and tilted his head back to pour tequila down his throat. He swallowed, dropped the glass on the floor and bent over the woman again to lick the salt off her belly. He took the next shot glass off her stomach, which was a challenge because she was fighting a case of the giggles. Logan dropped that glass as well and fished the lime from between her tits with his mouth. Good thing she was relatively flat-chested, so it didn’t take too many swipes of his tongue to retrieve the green wedge. He bit into the lime and spit out the rind, wincing at the tartness on his tongue. He then snorted the bump of cocaine off her collarbone. Logan stood abruptly, smacking himself in the eye when the rush went straight to his head. He produced a full-body shudder and peeked at Steve’s progress. Steve was still trying to get the lime out from between his girl’s tits. Probably because he was doing more licking than lime seeking. Damn. Logan rubbed his nose and sniffed, shooting a second rush of exhilaration up into his brain. Whoa! Good shit. He didn’t do coke often—he was hyper enough without it. But how was he going to lose if Steve was so far behind? He had only one task left to complete.
Carla—was that even her name?—lifted a maraschino cherry toward him with her fingertips. Normally when he played this game, he licked and sucked the woman’s fingers as he attempted to get the cherry in his mouth, but in this case, he went after it with his teeth. He groaned when the first cherry fell to the floor and she had to grab a second cherry out of the bowl near her hip. He caught a glimpse of Steve snorting his bump of coke—finally—and going after a cherry without pause. That meant they were neck and neck. Logan might not have to throw the game after all. Holding the second cherry between his teeth, he moved to stand over the woman’s face. The idea was to get it from his mouth into hers without touching her lips. Which was way easier if he got up close and personal, but he dropped his cherry from full standing height and cringed as it fell toward her wide open mouth in a perfect trajectory. Shit! Why did this chick have to have a mouth like Steven Tyler? It was like dropping the cherry into a kiddie pool.
The cherry hit her tooth and for a second he thought it might bounce out of the gaping orifice. But no, in it went. The riveted crowd cheered.
His stomach dropped into his shoes.
Well, fuck. Now what was he supposed to do?
“That was a close one!” Steve said, coming over to pound Logan on the back. “But I won again. You suck at this!”
Wait? He’d lost? Woo hoo!
Uh, he meant damn. How had he lost? He’d been so far ahead before that first cherry had gotten away from him.
“I’ll get you next time,” Logan said, punching Steve in the shoulder several times.
Steve leaned in close to Logan’s ear. “You would have won this time if you weren’t so pussy whipped.”
Logan shoved his laughing opponent out of his face. “Whatever.”
He was relieved when Steve left with his two happy prizes. No one else would bother him about his disinterest in chasing skirts tonight. He thought about going back to the bus and crawling into bed with Toni, but even the small dose of coke he’d snorted made him way too fucking hyper. He’d never be able to sleep and would disturb her rest. So he burned off some of his excess energy by making an ass of himself on the dance floor. And then he burned off some more by talking like an auctioneer to anyone who would listen and to several people who weren’t listening. By the time he finally settled down, the bar was mostly empty and it was well after three a.m. Normally the cops would have come to make everyone go home after two. But police tended to look the other way when Exodus End was out on the town. Unless Steve stirred up a fight or someone was rushed to the hospital with alcohol poisoning or a drug overdose. Such things didn’t happen as much as they used to. The band members were slowing down now that they were all in their thirties.
“We’re like a bunch of old ladies,” Logan said to a lamp post as he stumbled back toward the bus.
One of the security team stopped him from walking into a fire hydrant. “I got this,” he assured the guy and patted him on the chest. “Do you think Toni is sleeping?”