Page 79 of Cold as Stone
“Eyes up here, junior,” she says, snapping her fingers. “Five tequila shots and...” she glances at Steel, “one water for our designated driver.”
The bartender slides our drinks across and we all reach for our glass.
“Good boy,” she pinches Steel’s cheek after he accepts the water.
“To girls’ night!” Poppy raises her mocktail.
“To getting laid!” Mercy adds.
“To new friends!” Andi chimes in.
“To not overthinking everything!” I contribute.
“TO STEEL FOR DRIVING!” Ginger shouts.
We down the shots (except Steel and Poppy), and immediately hit the dance floor. The music is some remix I don’t recognize, but it doesn’t matter. Ginger grabs my hands, spinning me around while Andi, Mercy and Poppy follow, laughing.
“This is what you needed!” Ginger yells over the music. “To remember you’re young and hot and alive!”
She’s not wrong. For the first time in weeks, I’m not thinking about the bar, or bills, or Summit. I’m just dancing with my friends, letting the music move through me.
Mercy disappears for a song, returning with her lipstick smudged.
“Already?” Andi asks, impressed.
“What can I say? When you know, you know.” She grins. “He’s got a friend if you know anyone who might be interested.”
“Pass,” I laugh. “I’m taken.”
“Disgustingly taken,” Ginger agrees. “She and Lee are nauseating.”
“Says the woman who made us all watch while Tank fed her strawberries at her birthday,” Poppy points out.
“It was romantic!”
“It was soft-core porn!”
When we tire of dancing, Ginger drags us down the street to a second stop. This one is quieter, more upscale. Exposed brick walls, Edison bulbs, and bartenders in suspenders.
“I need food,” Poppy declares as we claim a corner booth.
“Nachos!” Ginger points at the menu. “Steel, order us nachos! And those little slider things. And mozzarella sticks!”
“Why do I have to?—”
“Because you’re sober and we love you,” she says, patting his head like a puppy.
Steel sighs. “How is this my life?”
“You joined an MC,” I remind him, more than a little tipsy. “Isn’t this is what you signed up for?”
“No one mentioned I’d be babysitting for drunk women.”
“We’re not drunk!” Ginger protests, then immediately knocks over her water glass. “That was the table’s fault.”
While Steel orders, Mercy regales us with stories from her bartending days before Devil’s.
“There was this guy who came in every Thursday, ordered milk. MILK. In a bar!”
