Page 65 of Pocketful of Shame

"And you're prepared to shoot to kill?" I folded my arms across my chest. "You're willing to do that? If it comes down to it, you're willing to take a life?"

Her eyes blazed with fire when she said, "I'm willing to do whatever it takes to keep you safe!"

My heart thudded violently in my chest; beyond affected by her passionate declaration. "Ro –"

"Us," she amended, cheeks flushed. "To keep all ofussafe."

"Alright, enough of the heavy," Pres interjected, holding his hands up. "We evaded death today, guys – against less than minimal odds. This is a victory. We should be celebrating." Climbing to his feet, he stretched his arms over his head and said, "I say we forget about our impending demise for the night and do what anyone our age alone in a motel without parental guidance would do."

"And what's that, Pres?" Romi asked with a sigh.

"Get stereotypically shit-faced, of course." Grinning, he looked to me and asked, "You down for some teenage debauchery, buddy?"

"Oh, like you wouldn’t fucking believe."

* * *

Presley's charms didn’t win the lady at the liquor store over, but my fake ID did. Several hours and countless beers later, and he was still bitching about it.

"It's complete bullshit," he slurred. Bopping around the motel room with Meatloaf and Cher'sDead Ringer for Loveblasting from his phone, he continued to rant, while necking Jack straight from the bottle. "Girls. They don’t get me, but that's okay. I can deal. Girls are attracted to –" he paused to point his bottle at me. "Well, there's no prize for taste."

"What are youtalkingabout?" I snickered from my perch on the floor. "Are you still sore over not getting served?"

"Yep." Cackling into her beer bottle, Romi rolled onto her stomach and narrowly avoided falling off the bed in the process. "He's like a broken record."

I snorted. "Dude, build a bridge and get over it."

"Whatever," Pres sniffed, taking another swig and then hissing loudly. "It's all good." Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he nodded solemnly. "I have it on good authority that brains are sexy. Womenlovebrains. Give it a couple of years and it'll be all me, dude. I'll be the Don. You wait and see. I'll be the irresistible one." He winked. "Beauty is temporary, but ugly is forever, pea-brain. Think aboutthat."

"Again, what thefuck, and I can't stress the wordfuckenough, are you talking about?" I asked, slurring my own words now. "Pres, you're gay. What do you care what women want?"

"Because I –" Frowning, he held a finger up and considered this. "Hell, you've got me there." Tossing back another mouthful of whiskey, he gave me an award-winning side-eye before muttering, "Photoshopped fucker."

"You're a mean drunk," Romi laughed, pointing at Presley. "Meow," she snickered, scratching at the air around her with her hand. "So catty."

"You two are pathetic," I chuckled, shaking my head. "Fucking lightweights."

"Oh, you think so?" Pres slurred, barreling towards me. "Let's see how lightweight I am. Get your ass up, pretty boy."

I arched a brow. "Yeah, I'm good where I am, thanks."

"Come on, dude. Get up," he insisted, pulling on my arm. "I wanna play a game."

"Oh, a game!" Romi squealed, clapping her hands and forgetting about the beer bottle she was supposed to be holding. It clattered to the carpet and foamy beer sprayed out of the rim. "Whoops," she blurted, frowning down at the bottle before yelping out another squeal. "We can use this."

"You're a genius, baby girl," Presley declared. "Truth or bottle."

"Yay," Romi agreed, tossing back the remains of the beer before pulling herself into a sitting position on the bed. "Spin the dare!"

"You're both fucked off your heads," I noted, reluctantly climbing to my feet so Presley would stop digging his damn nails into my arm. "It's truth or dareorspin the bottle, and I'm not playing either one with your drunk asses."

"Like hell you're not," Presley snorted, pushing me towards the bed. "And you're drunk, too." Iwas, but I could handle myself a helluva lot better than these two. "It's happening," he continued. "We're playing."

"Please, Sketch?" Romi begged, patting a spot on the mattress next to her. "Play with me."

Aw shit.

Chapter Twenty-Three

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