“I want…” I turned to the dance floor and counted my Girl Gang membership. “Five shots of tequila. Don’t bother with the lime, we’re Rock Chicks, we can hack it,” I informed him.
The guy behind me chuckled. I gave him another over the shoulder grin not exactly knowing what he found funny but also not caring. If he was in a good mood then I thought it was rude not to share in his good mood.
“Outta my way,” I heard and the crowd around me parted without comment. This was somewhat unusual seeing as we were at a biker bar and someone pushing through the crowd was normally frowned upon. I understood why there was no comment when Wild Man Tex moved in beside me. Not many people would stand in Wild Man’s way.
“Hey Tex. How ya doin’?” I asked as if we had known each other all our lives and he was my best friend in the whole world.
He looked at me then he commented, “Darlin’, you’re shitfaced.”
I leaned into him. “Yeah. Isn’t it great?”
He shook his head and grinned but said, “I don’t mean to rain on your parade, you deserve a good night after a coupla kindnappin’s, but you best be watchin’ your step. Your man ain’t likin’ what he’s seein’ and the atmosphere is gettin’ tense.”
I blinked at him. “My man?”
“Luke,” Tex told me.
I swung my head around and looked at Luke. He was watching me and it appeared Tex was right, he didn’t seem happy.
I turned back to Tex. “He isn’t my man.”
“Girl, it don’t matter you don’t think he is, he thinks he is. Therefore, in Badass Motherfucker Land, that means he is.”
I laughed and waved my hand between us, dismissing Tex’s warning as the bartender set the shots in front of me.
“Everything will be okay,” I assured Tex.
Tex held up a bill to the bartender for my drinks and I smiled at him. I gathered all the shots in two hands but Tex grabbed my elbow and leaned in before I moved away.
“One more thing,” Tex said.
I stopped and looked up at him. It registered in my drunken state that he looked ultra serious.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Long as things are under the boys’ control, excitement is good, excitement is fun. We all get a buzz off it. Last time though, it got out of the boys’ control and we almost lost Jules.”
Part of my fine and loose feeling slid away as Tex kept staring at me intently.
“Be smart. These boys know what they’re doin’ and they’ll do all they can to keep you safe as long as you stay smart. Don’t make it hard on ‘em. They got enough to worry about on a day-to-day basis without someone one of ‘em cares about doin’ stupid shit and puttin’ her ass on the line. Got me?” Tex asked.
I swallowed. Then I nodded.
He let go of my elbow and said, “Have fun.”
Shit.
I headed back to the Girl Gang, handed out the shots and, standing in our circle, we threw them back. Mine played double duty of helping me erase my latest scary-assed conversation, most especially the part about Tex telling me I was someone Luke “cares about”.
I shook it off as the band started playing “Ding Dong Daddy”. Daisy threw her hands up in the air and shouted, “That’s what I’m talkin’ about, sister!” and I was immediately back to feeling fine and loose.
Three songs later, I was giggling at Roxie who was pretending to dance outrageously sexy and throwing kissy-faces at Hank when a waitress came up to me and handed me a shot.
“Bass,” she said, jerking her head toward the bass player.
“Thanks,” I muttered and took the glass, my eyes moving to the bass player who, I noted, was watching me. The minute my eyes hit his, he smiled at me. I smiled back, lifted my glass in a thank you salute, sniffed the shot (tequila) and tossed it back.
I no sooner had my head straightened when my wrist was seized and I was dragged across the dance floor.
“What the –” I started to say but Luke pulled me to a halt, grabbed my purse from the table and threw it at me. I caught it and noticed the Bad Boys were all glaring at me unhappily and I blinked at them in confusion. Luke tore the shot glass out of my hand, crashed it to the table and dragged me out of the bar.
“Hey! I was having fun!” I yelled at his back.
He stopped at the Porsche, yanked me around, my back to it, him in front of me and he closed in until I felt car behind me and had nowhere to retreat.
Then he growled, “I noticed.”
“Why’d you drag me out of there?”
“We’re goin’ home.”
It was then I got a good look at him. “Are you angry?” I asked stupidly because it was clear he was not only angry, he was angry.
“You’ve got to be fuckin’ shittin’ me,” he snapped.
“What?”
He moved around me to open the door but being drunk and not thinking clearly (if I was thinking clearly I would have run screaming into the night), I moved into his face.
“What?” I asked again.
“Get in the car.”
“What?”
“Jesus. I want to think you aren’t playin’ games but I know you’re fuckin’ playin’ games. Nobody’s that stupid.”