Page 60 of Saving the Last Heir
“Fair enough,” Jackson said with a chuckle, and climbed out of the truck.
It was Friday night, and the place was already hopping. Music drifted out the doors. The cover band was currently playingwhat sounded like a classic rock version of Taylor Swift’s “Blank Space”.
“The place is popular,” Jackson said, and from the smile on his face, I could tell he liked it.
I took his hand and led him toward the door. “It’s an institution around here. Great food, great atmosphere, great drinks—it’s got it all. Come on.”
The outdoor seating on the wraparound porch was already full of folks either eating, or sitting and having conversations. When we opened the door, the music poured out, loud enough to be fun, but low enough to allow conversation everywhere but right on the dance floor. The floor itself was already filled with people gyrating and bouncing around.
“Over there,” I said, pointing to a small table for two in the corner.
Jackson followed me over, and before we’d even sat, I picked up the menu from the cradle at the far side of the table.
“What do you want to eat?” I said, offering the menu.
Jackson held a hand up and winked at me. “This is your place. You choose. I trust your taste.
“Oh! Adventurous, are we?”
“Sometimes,” he said.
“Howdy, folks,” the server said as she approached our table. “What can I get for you?”
“I’m gonna have a tequila sunrise, with Patron Silver,” I said, then pointed at Jackson. “He looks like someone who would like a ranch water, the same brand of tequila as mine.”
“Gotcha,” she said as she wrote our order. “Any food?”
“Let’s get a street taco platter. Fivecarne asada,twobirria,twobarbacoa,twolengua, fourcarnitas, and fivecampechano,” I said, reading the selection from the menu. “All the accompaniments.”
“Done,” she said. “I’ll have your cocktails and some waters out in a sec.”
“Thank you.”
Jackson was giving me a strange look, an introspective smile on his face.
“What’s that look for?” I said.
“I like the way you take charge. No hesitation.” He shrugged. “It’s kinda hot.”
Anticipatory flutters swirled in my stomach. Maybe tonightwouldgo the way I wanted it to.
Twenty minutes later, I’d already finished my drink, and Jackson and I had made a decent dent in the tacos. The cocktail had relaxed me, but Jackson looked as aloof as always.
“You can really hold your liquor,” I said, through a bite ofbirriataco.
Jackson gave me a piercing look. “Alcohol doesn’t affect us like it does humans. Our metabolism is too high. We don’t really get drunk or buzzed.”
“You’re shitting me,” I said. “For real?”
He nodded as he took another bite.
Pointing at his stomach, I lifted an eyebrow, and said, “Is that why you’ve got a fucking six-pack, even though you seem to eat whatever you want?”
“Like I said, high metabolism.”
“Ugh. Luckyfucker,” I said as I squeezed a lime over my next taco. I waved to my server. “Another sunrise, please?” Then, voice lowered so only Jackson could hear, I added, “Might as well enjoy myself if I’m the only one who’s gonna be feeling it.”
“Don’t get too wasted.” The way he said it piqued my interest.
