Page 93 of Grease Monkey
“Not Richard, you moron. Honestly, do I need to spell everything out to you? Teddy. Do you love Teddy?”
I swallow roughly as every part of me wants to screamI never stopped.But she doesn’t know the truth. She doesn’t know why I ended it seven years ago, and she doesn’t know that if I break up with Richard and get back with Teddy, his life is over.
When an awkward amount of time passes, she sags in defeat. “I need a drink. You got any alcohol?”
“Only white wine, and I know you hate that.”
She blanches. “Looks like we’re getting drunk at a bar, then.”
The Dirty Duckisn’t the usual place I would go to for a drink. It’s small and dark and has a vintage quality that I instantly adore. None of the uptight, everything-made-of-glass, and overpriced drinks I’m used to back home.
“Oh my God, this is amazing,” Shay drawls, pulling her phone out of her pocket and snapping pictures for her Instagram feed. “I love how retro it is.”
“I’m not sureretrois the feel they were going for,” I laugh, dragging her to the bar as her thumb pulses on the button on her screen, taking picture after picture of the bar. Picking up the menu, I study the list, running my finger along their logo of a duck in a muddy puddle with a weird—and not at all creepy—salacious grin on its face.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asks, and Shay immediately props her elbow on the bar top.
“You?” Shay beams as the guy sends her a wink.
“Starting early, aren’t we? What about Lenox?” I ask, nudging her hip with mine.
Shay’s back stiffens as she pointedly ignores my question. “Hey, I didn’t judge you for being a cheat… much… so you can’t judge me for being forward.” Suddenly, the good mood I managed to somehow put myself in disappears. Shay notices. “Shit, Morgs, I was only joking. Too soon, huh?”
“A smidge.”
“Fuck. Okay, we’ll have two shots of Patron… each.” She shoots me a wink. “A large-as-you-can-make-it white wine and…” She wiggles her hips as she thinks, tapping her long finger to her lips. “A beer. Whatever’s good around here works.”
“You got it.”
No sooner has she ordered, the four shots slide in front of us. Shay pumps her brows as she pours salt on my hand and shoves the small plate of lime wedges in front of me. Clinking our glasses together, we throw back the first shot, followed by the second, the burn of the tequila making my insides all warm.
“Wooo-eeeee, fucking hate tequila.”
“Then why do you always do it?” I laugh, sucking on a lime.
She shrugs. “Gets you drunk. Remember when we turned twenty-one and drank cheap rosé because it got you hammered fast? Well, this is the adult version of that.”
The bartender sets our other drinks on the bar, and Shay hands him her card. “Keep them comin’, handsome. For every round, bring a shot of tequila too, and”—she thumbs over to me—“if you manage to get this one nice and drunk, there’s a hundred in it for you, as well as my phone number.”
My cheeks flame as, according to his name tag, Beau shamelessly runs his eyes over the tight dress Shaymademe wear.
“Come on,” I say, picking up my wine. “Let’s go find a table.”
The bar isn’t busy, but the music’s already loud enough that we need to lean in close to hear each other speak. And considering it’s a Friday night, finding a table isn’t hard, but since this is the only local place in town, give it a few hours, and it will be packed.
“We need to eat, or I’ll be in trouble,” I say, sliding over the food menu to the food connoisseur, and Shay picks a couple of appetizers before returning to the bar to order, coming back with yet another round of shots. This time something red and tastes a little like chili.
The constant gnawing in my gut—guilt for Richard and an endless hunger for Teddy—slowly ebbs to a manageable level as Shay fills me in on the last month while I’ve been away. Even though I so kindly asking Shay to keep an eye on her, my mom’s still being a huge bridezilla for a wedding that’s not even hers, Dad’s frequently in the news—not that I pay attention—and her parents are trying to convince Shay to come with them on a month-long cruise to Europe again.
“So nothing out of the ordinary,” she says, taking a sip of her beer and casually looking around the bar. She splutters, her eyes budging as she sets her glass down and thumps against her chest. “Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“You said Teddy hadn’t changed much from when we were younger, right?”
“Yeah…?” I draw out the word, skeptically looking at her as I slowly twist my head to see what she’s looking at. Grabbing my chin roughly, she snaps it back to face her.
“Okay, I might have been a bit hasty in my lecture earlier, ’cause damn, Morgs. That boy’s glow up is…” She shakes her head with a low whistle. “I get why you couldn’t stay away.”
