Page 6 of Pretty Ruthless

“They don’t serve beer in San Fran?” Justin asks, conversationally.

“They do,” I reply with a smile, “it’s just not something I normally order.”

“Right, your normal order is probably a bottle of wine that costs more than he made this week.” Dawson replies, bringing the beer to his lips.

“At least I showered this month. They run out of soap since I’ve been gone?” I snap, fed up with his shitty comments.

“We can’t all have thousand dollar bottles of body wash in our shower, Princess.”

“Ivory Springs is a dollar ninety nine and does the same damn thing, I don’t appreciate your comments.” I scoff.

“Tough shit,” he says leaning back in his chair. “You wanted to be here so you’re going to hear ‘em all night.” When he raises his eyebrow a full blown hum bounces through my body, reminding me of his touch.

“People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, Dawson.” I narrow my eyes at him and he narrows his right back.

“You’d know all about throwing stones, wouldn’t you?” He replies.

“Yup, and you’d know all about glass houses.” I quip.

“Speaking of glass houses, how is life in your ivory tower?” He leans back in his chair, smug as fuck.

“My ivory tower is great, thanks for asking. Living the dream, ya know?” I purse my lips at him and wait for the blow I know is coming.

“I’m so glad you’re livingyourdream,” the emphasis on your feels like a slap across the face.

“And first up, we have Devon,” the bartender says into the mic on stage effectively stopping our standoff.

“I hope you know, you’re acting like a baby back bitch, right now.” I whisper out of the side of my mouth to Dawson.

“And I hope you know..” he hisses but the look that Kennedy shoots him is scathing.

Devon grabs the mic off the stand and waits for the lyrics to appear on the tiny tv screen, the music starts slow and I instantly recognize the song. My head whips over to Kennedy as the opening verse of ‘One of them girls by Lee Brice’starts, her face is getting redder by the second as Devon sings about the girl of his dreams not being like other girls who had out their number. Justin hoots loudly as Devon nails the chorus lines.

I listen and watch as Kennedy drains the rest of her beer and grabs her purse from the floor, she bolts just as the song finishes. Devon leaves the stage confused as hell and when he looks at me, I raise my hands in an ‘I don’t know’ motion.

“Go, go get her!” I squawk, shooing him out the door. He looks from me to the door and then back again before making a decision.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Devon mutters quickly as he all but runs to the door.

And then there were three.

Justin twirls the bottom of his beer bottle on the surface of the table as Dawson and I stare at the door waiting for Dev and Ken to walk back through. She didn’t seem that worked up but I can only imagine what was going through her head.

“Next up, Dawson, let’s hear it for him,” the bartender says into the mic as he claps his hands. The room claps enthusiastically and I have to wonder how often he does this. I wouldn’t know, I’ve missed almost ten years outside of the week I was home for my grandpa’s funeral. Dawson scoots back in his chair and drains the beer that he was drinking. He smiles as he takes the stage and when he exhales loudly into the mic I feel my entire upper body lean forward, ready to hear whatever song leaves his lips.

The music starts and it’s a familiar tune but I can place it until Dawson sings the opening line. ‘Settle for a Slowdown by Dierks Bentley’is the title of the song and I have heard it a thousand times but never like this, never with the emotion Dawson is giving it. The song describes a man waiting in the middle of the road for brake lights to light up the night sky giving the impression that the girl driving away had a single second thought about driving away from the love of her life. It hits home in more ways than one and I sit in rapture as he sings the heartbreak from his soul into the mic. He holds eye contact with me as he begs for the woman to tap her breaks just once, I pull my lips between my teeth as a try to push the emotions that his singing pulls out of me. It reminds me of the nights parked out in a field, us holding each other close as he sang old country songs into the shell of my ear. The old Chevy truck’s windows would be so fogged up from us that we’d have to wait for them to defrost before we could leave. I can almost smell the old leather of the seats as I sit here.

“Way to go Dawson, damn, could you guys feel that?” The bartender fans himself dramatically as Dawson exits the stage. A few of the bar patrons give him high fives as he makes his way back to our table. I try and fail to keep my perusal of him from being seen but when he sits down he winks at me.So freaking busted.

“Like what you see Princess?” He asks, cockiness bleeding into his tone as he leans forward and grabs another beer from the bucket.

“Been there, done that, got the t-shirt to prove it.” I wave him off with an exaggerated eye roll but my insides coil.

“It’s been a long time sweets, never know I might have learned a thing or two since then.” His tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip. Why are my hackles raising at the thought of someone else warming his bed?

“Next up, Claire! Let’s give her a warm welcome back!”

“Maybe I’ve learned a thing or two too.” I say slyly as I exit my seat.

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