Page 22 of Tobias

“The hell are you doing?” he asks.

“Uh, nothing?”

“Are you coming in or you just gonna sit here all fucking night?”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

“Come on. There are two guys inside who’ve been at it all night. I’m telling you, someone’s gonna throw a punch, and I don’t wanna miss it.”

“Well, when you tell me that…” I roll up the window and shut off the car to get out. One of our favorite pastimes is watching drunk people in the bar get into fights then get dragged out. They embarrass themselves and it's hilarious. Drunk people are idiots.

Asher throws his arm around my shoulders and we walk inside, right to the bar where he already got settled. His keys are on the bar top, and his coat is hanging on the back of the stool.

“Look what I found!” he announces loudly.

“Hey, Theo,” Morgan says as she pours Jameson into a glass.

“Hi,” I answer, dropping onto the stool beside Asher.

“What can I get you?” she asks, adding ginger ale.

“Shots!” Asher says, drumming his hands on the bar top.

I nod in agreement.Yes, shots would be great. Lots and lots of shots.

Morgan delivers the drink she made to its owner, then pours whiskey into the little glasses and slides us beers.

“What brings you here on a Sunday night?” she asks, leaning against the bar.

“Boredom.”

“Oh, look!” Asher whispers shouts, grabbing onto my arm and pointing toward the pool tables. “There they are. I swear, the one in the red shirt is going to knock the other guy out.”

“No way,” I say. “White shirt is so much bigger.”

“So that means he’s slower.”

“It does fucking not.”

Asher offers out his hand. “Hundred bucks.”

I shake his hand, and we watch the two guys get chest to chest, yelling in each other’s faces. A bouncer walks over, getting between them and pushing them apart.

“This is your last warning,” he says loudly, and the moment he steps away, the guy in the red shirt lunges, throwing a punch and hitting the other guy right in the jaw. The bouncer jumps right back in, getting the guy in the red shirt in a hold and dragging him out. The guy in the white shirt is bleeding, but conscious. There’s a girl checking on him, while another guy in a grey shirt is shouting after red-shirt guy, threatening to fuck him up.

I glance back at Asher, and hold out my hand, palm up. “You lose.”

“No way! Did you not see what just happened?”

“You said red-shirt was going toknock outwhite-shirt, and he is still very much awake. Therefore, you lose.” I tap my pointer finger against my palm. “Now pay up.”

"That's bullshit," Asher complains.

"Choose your words better," I say with a smirk.

He narrows his eyes, then relents. “Fine, but I’m paying you in drinks.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”

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