Page 83 of Living with Death

I shake my head. “Sorry, I wasn’t speaking to you.”

She narrows her eyes, grabs her pack of smokes from the bar, and slips from her seat.

Great, he’s got people thinking I’m crazy again.

The bartender places the shots on the bar and twists the tops from the beers. “Just put it on my tab,” I say.

“Will do.”

“Sam, grab the beers, would you?” I ask, holding the two shots.

“Girl, it’s obvious you’ve never waited tables.”

I smirk. “I didn’t know you did.”

“Yeah. I worked at the strip club my mom danced at for a few years. You made damn good money, but you had to put up with ass-grabbing and shit-talking.” She rolls her eyes. I wipe the sticky liquor from my fingers.

“To new beginnings,” Sam says.

“To new beginnings.”

The night moves in waves. Slow and steady and then fast and wild. We dance and drink until sweat trails down my back, and I have to put my hair up.

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” I say.

“I’ll call an Uber.” She pulls out her phone, squinting her eyes to see it. I laugh and push the door open. The night air slips over my sweaty skin, and I inhale a deep breath and lean against the brick wall. A car passes, and I walk to a table to sit for a moment, enjoying the crisp fall air.

I switched to water about an hour ago and even made myself eat some cold cheese sticks, but my buzz is still strong. My thoughts turn to my mother. I haven’t spoken to her since our argument. She did come by my house, but I ignored her knocking, and she had the decency not to use her key.

“Hey, Red.” I turn, seeing the bartender guy.

“Oh, hey.”

“What are you doing out here all alone?”

“I’m not alone.” I point at the enormous lit pumpkin on the sidewalk. “This is Jack.” I laugh at the name I chose. Geez. That is what most pumpkins are called.

“Jack, this is…” I lift a brow.

“Wes,” he says, declaring a seat beside me. He has his sleeves rolled to his elbows, his shirt tucked into black jeans.

I shiver a bit, hating I forgot my coat inside, but I was hot.

“Are you seeing anyone, Red?”

“No.”

“No?”Azrael’s voice sounds distant and deep.

I frown. “Why won’t you leave me be?”

“Do you want to be?”

“No.”

He smiles. “Why not?”

I shrug. “I don’t care for dating.”

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