Page 102 of One Night Only
“You’ve got the wrong idea.”
“You want me to call the cops? Want me to show them what’s on the camera?”
He nods to a blinking red light on the ceiling. Robbie’s mouth snaps shut. “Whatever,” he mumbles, slinking off toward the bar.
“Make sure he goes,” Declan says to the guard, who merely nods and walks quickly after him, leaving us alone.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say shakily. “Thanks for being all macho.”
He rolls his eyes but some of the tension ebbs from his body. “Do you want to go home? I can call you a cab.”
I shake my head. “No. Don’t say anything to the others. It will ruin the night.”
“Sarah—”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
Probably because I’m lying. I take a deep breath through my nose that does nothing to help me.
“It’s not because of him,” I say, planting one hand against the wall to balance myself. My stomach roils. “I’ve had a lot to drink.”
He watches me for a second, looking torn before he takes my hand and leads me further down the hallway to a small room at the end. It’s barely bigger than a closet, with a wooden chair and a small overhead light that offers little illumination when he flicks it on.
“Am I about to be interrogated?” I ask as he pushes me gently onto the chair.
“This is where we put the drunks.”
“Oh great,” I mutter.
“Head between the knees,” he says and exits the room, leaving the door open. He’s back in less than a minute with a tall glass of water. “Sip it slowly,” is all he says as he crouches before me. “It will help.”
It does help. And I manage to drink half of it before handing it back.
“Better?”
“A little.”
The guard appears in the doorway, knocking once against the frame. “They’re gone. We good here?”
“Yeah.” Declan doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Thanks, Danny. Could you tell the party at table four that their friend’s with me? They can have another round on us.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
He disappears before I can stop him. “I don’t want him to tell them that.”
“It’s fine,” he says. “An apology from the establishment.”
“No,” I say, too drunk to lie. “I mean tell them that I’m here with you.”
Declan places the glass carefully on the floor. I can’t read anything from his expression “Is that a bad thing?”
“No,” I moan. “I don’t mean it like that. I mean they already think we’re…”
“We’re what?”
