Page 16 of Dirty Little Secret
“Great job. Do you know how many drinks you’ve had?” I pushed the door open and we stepped outside, the cool air hitting us in the face. It didn’t seem to affect her much at all.
“I didn’t count them,” she said, and then hiccupped. Looking over her shoulder, she looked lost for a second. “Um, I should go back and tell my friends I’m leaving.”
Her cell phone was in her hand, and I took her by the wrist, raising her hand so she could see it. “Why don’t you send them texts while you’re riding in the cab?”
“You’re smart,” she said with a giggle before another hiccup popped out of her mouth. “Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Yep.” Snapping my fingers, a cab pulled to the curb, and I helped her get inside. “Fifteen fifteen, Blue Ridge Trail please.” Handing the driver two twenty-dollar bills, I added, “Please see this young lady gets there safe and sound, will you?” The fact that the driver was a woman in her fifties gave me confidence that the drunk girl would meet no harm in her vulnerable condition.
“Will do,” the driver said with a smile.
The girl reached out, trailing her hand over my cheek. “You’re, like, my hero. I should get your number.”
“Nah. But do yourself a favor and drink some water when you get home. And watch your intake of alcohol next time—it’s time to stop when your head gets light. And if your words start to slur, you’re already drunk. Got it?” I knew she probably wouldn’t retain a word I said, but I had to say them anyway.
“’K.” She kissed the palm of her hand and then blew it my way. She had no idea how terrible her breath smelled. “Thanks, hero.”
Closing the door, I waved goodbye before heading back inside. One of the bouncers nodded at me as I went back in. “That was nice. Don’t see a lot of good deeds like that going on in my line of work.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a doctor, and I couldn’t just watch that poor girl get another drink.” With a shrug, I went back inside. I didn’t feel like a hero at all. I just felt like that had been the right thing to do.
Maybe it was the fact that I had a ten-year-old at home, but suddenly all the people around me just seemed like kids to me. At twenty-seven, I wasn’t much older than the majority of them, but I felt eons older—and wiser as well.
Some rambunctious shouting drew my attention to another bar. A waitress lay on the bar, a line of men waiting to take shots out of her navel. Not one of them cared about the fact that their lips were touching the same place another man’s had been just seconds earlier. On top of being disgusting, it wasn’t sanitary either. “Yuck.”
Rocco came up behind me, clapping me on the shoulder. Jerking his head toward the men I watched, he asked, “Thinkin’ about getting in that line, lover-boy?”
“There’s not a chance in hell that that’s what I was thinking, Rocco. And as your physician and best friend, I can’t allow you to even think about doing that either. Do you have any idea how many germs are now on that poor woman’s body?”
Shaking his head, he said, “The alcohol kills all the germs, Doctor Price. It’s perfectly safe, and it’s sexy too.”
“You’re as crazy as the rest of them.” I shoved my hands into my pockets before looking elsewhere, as that scene made my stomach uneasy. “I could use a drink. And not the kind you gave me. I wonder what kinds of wine they serve here.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Rocco huffed. “At least have a beer, Kane. Shit, you can act like such an old geezer sometimes.”
He was probably right, and I knew it. But it wasn’t something I particularly wanted to change about myself. I was a father first and foremost, and prided myself on acting like one. But he was right about ordering wine in such an establishment. “I’ll get a beer then. I don’t want to spoil your bad boy rep by acting like a geezer.” Spotting a waitress not too far ahead of me, I called out, “Can I get a beer over here, please?”
She paused for only a moment before hurrying through the crowd. I knew she had to have heard me—she had stopped, after all. Following after her to get her attention, I noticed the swell of her hips, the dip of her waist, and the way her long dark hair was twisted into one braid that hung down her back. Dark blue streaks ran through it. Normally, I didn’t particularly care for unnatural colors in a woman’s hair. For some reason, I liked it on her.
Just as I was about to catch up to her, she placed the tray of empty glasses she carried on the edge of the bar and then disappeared behind it, going straight through a door into the back.
Disappointment welled within me. I just wanted to see her face.
“What can I get ya?” the bartender asked me.
“A beer,” I said, my eyes still glued to the door she’d gone through. I crossed my fingers, hoping she’d pop back out of it before I walked away.
“What kind?” he asked me, taking my attention away from the door.
I looked at the names on tap. “Michelob Ultra.”
Another waitress came up next to me, putting empties on the bar as she rattled off, “Two gin and tonics, a blue spruce, and three bloody Marys.”
The waiter placed the beer on the bar in front of me. “That’ll be seven fifty.” He looked at the blonde waitress with a frown. “What the fuck is a blue spruce, Taylor?”
“Fuck if I know.” She shrugged. “This guy said he wanted one. I figured you knew what it was.”
“I’ll have to look that one up, I guess.” The bartender got to work making the drinks, and the waitress looked at me.
