Page 181 of Lovers Like Us
The hecklers shout some more bullshit, and we do a good job of ignoring. But a female bartender leaves the counter and nearsus.
She ties her hair into a bun. “Hi, guys. Look, I can take your drink orders and serve you, but you shouldn’t approach the bar. It’s not safe, and the manager thinks this is a better deal for everyone,yeah?”
The bearded dipshit looks too pleased with himself. He thinks we’re about to be kicked out, not given specialtreatment.
Amusement pulls my lips upward. I’m enjoyingthis.
“Sounds good,” Akara says. “You guys wantanything?”
“I’m buyin’ a round of whiskey shots for everyone,” Donnelly says, gesturing to all ofus.
“Got it,” the bartender says anddeparts.
I chalk my cue stick. “Who’d you tattoo?” I ask him since that’s how he earns extra cash, and it’s the only time he buys everyonedrinks.
“Luna.” Donnelly picks a cigarette out of a pack. “Thought about consulting with her dad first since he went ape-shit on me about the others, but then I thought, nah. He won’t ever see thisone.”
My brows spike. “Man, if you tattooed her ass and her dad finds out,he’ll—”
“Don’t freak. It was a shooting star below her hipbone.” He cups his hand over a flame and lights his cigarette. “And she’s eighteen. If it’s not me inking her, then another tattooist will, youknow?”
Iknow.
But that’s still Loren Hale’s daughter and Maximoff’s little sister. That’s still the Hale family, and fuck, I’m not typically incessant on inserting myself in other people’s shit, but I understand that family better than him. And I care aboutLuna.
Akara motions his beer bottle at Donnelly. “If she asked you to push her off a cliff, what would youdo?”
“I’d say let’s grab some parachutes first, babe.” He smirks. “Then I’d clasp her hand and we’d go down…” He jumps forward and then slings an arm aroundOscar.
“You playing?” Oscar asks him aboutpool.
“Later.”
Akara shakes his head, his lips lifting. He does friendly disapprovalwell.
My smile widens at Donnelly. “Look who’s never being put on Luna Hale’sdetail.”
He blows cigarette rings atme.
“Hey, guys.” Quinn approaches, his plain shirt torn at the hem, nail scratches on hisneck.
Most everyone stiffens, but I’m still leaning on the cuestick.
“What the fuck happened?” Oscar instantlynears.
Quinn pushes his brother away. “You know how the crowds are.” The ones in the street, outside TheIndependent.
“Nah, they aren’t that bad,” Donnellysays.
Akara frowns and assesses Quinn from afar, who tries to convince everyone withI’m fine, I’m fine, but it’s clear that the fame has been harder on him thanus.
“I just need a drink,” Quinnmutters.
The bartender returns with a tray of whiskey shots, and the barboosat her, more than atus.
“Sorry,” I apologize to her, and she shrugssheepishly.
Donnelly puts a wad of cash on her tray for atip.
