3. Tink #2
I didn’t mean to quote Elle Woods just now, but it’s not like that’s a reference they’d get. Blue just sucks his teeth, says nothing, and I think lifts his glass in a little salute. Pan, meanwhile, spins in his seat and looks me dead in the eye.
“No way,” he says. Shakes a finger two inches from my face. “I don’t believe it.”
I finish the rest of my beer and do a palms-up. “Hand to God.”
“No way,” he says again, but there’s this delight and smile in his voice. “You’re lying. You’ve got to be.”
I meet his gaze.
“Would I lie to you?”
I look him in the eye. Hard.
And he looks right back.
My heartbeat picking up and up and up and the club music thumping and I don’t know how many seconds or minutes passing.
“Nah,” he says, at long, long last, and nods. “You’re for real.”
He leaps up, holding out a hand, but just as I go to shake it, he pulls back and ducks to the floor.
“I think you dropped this,” he says, rising and holding out an imaginary crown. “King.”
Now it’s Fox’s turn to groan. Blue is tuned out, all but eye-fucking Sapphire from across the room. I give Pan a shove.
“Fuck you.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. C’mon.” He nods at my empty and jerks his head at the bar. “Just for that, your drinks are on me.”
They’re always on you, I want to say. But I just follow him. Like I always do.
Treasure’s at the bar when we approach, writing something in a notebook under a rack of upside-down martini glasses like a chandelier.
She barely looks up. “Someone’s in a good mood.”
“I’m always in a good mood.” Pan drops onto a stool and puts his chin in his hands. “Same way you’re always in a bad one.”
Now Treasure looks up. She scowls. Pan sticks out his tongue.
“How’s business?” I ask, to change the subject.
“Can’t complain. Patrons in here flashing cash for once.” She glances at Pan again. “I thought you were in debt.”
“Was,” Pan corrects. “Formerly. Just, you know…had some guys get lucky at one of my games, ran a little short of cash—”
“He lost his shirt,” I cut in. “Literally.”
Pan scowls briefly. “Jacket,” he says. “Technically.”
Treasure cocks an eyebrow. “They took your jacket?”
“As opposed to what, my Rolex?” Pan throws his hands in the air. “Jeez, Trez, yes, they took my thousand-dollar leather jacket. But now I can get it back.” He grins. Shrugs in his fake-modest way. “Krye just paid me, so we’re all good.”
“Mhm.” Treasure looks unconvinced. “Be careful, Pan.”
“Why? I’m plenty careful!”
Treasure sighs. “You know why.” She shuffles her receipts together, taps them into a stack. “Just watch yourself as you go out causing trouble in the world, is all I’m saying.”
“Hey.” Fox barrels between us, interrupting like usual, pool cue in hand. “Anyone wanna play me? Ten bucks on the line,” he singsongs. When no one responds, he deflates, then amends. “Okay, twenty.”
“Treasure was saying something,” I point out.
“Oh.” Fox backs off a bit. Embarrassed. “Sorry.”
Ruby, setting down Pan’s glass, giggles. Down at the other end of the bar, I see Blue motion for Treasure, who gives him a one sec finger and then swings over.
“You want another, too, Tink?” Ruby’s friendly. Friendly, freckled—though those might be fake—and flirty.
Well, all the Mermaids are flirty. But still.
“Oh, uh.” I look down at my beer. Empty already. “Sure.”
“Coming right up!” Ruby sashays off, and as she does, Pan leans in.
“You like her?”
“What?” I almost fall off my barstool.
But if Pan notices I’m off—
No. He doesn’t.
“Her.” He nods. “The brunette. Ruby.” His teeth gleam lilac in the blacklight, his face close to mine so I can hear. “Because I think she likes you.”
I shrug. All casual. One thing I’ve learned about living as a guy: don’t overreact. Underreact, if at all. “Eh,” I answer, figuring he’ll drop it.
He doesn’t. “No? You got your eye on someone else, then?”
No. No. No, I don’t.
I shake my head vigorously. “Huh-uh.”
“You never bring anyone back, is all I’m saying,” he goes on. “And now that I know you’re God’s gift to women…”
Shit. “Yeah, well, I don’t—”
“A-ha.” Pan squints one eye shut and wags a finger at me. “So you need a wingman, is what you’re saying.”
“The fuck?” I blurt out. “No.”
It’s too much. My reaction. Because something sparks in his eyes.
“Knew it.” He snaps his fingers, sits back up straight on his stool.
“No,” I say, heart kicking up. “Seriously, don’t—”
“Nah, nah, allow me. Ruby!” Pan cups a hand around his mouth to call her over. “C’mere, please?”
I can see her at the end of the bar, eyes wide in surprise. But she does.
“What’s up?”
Pan smiles. “You like Tink, right?”
Ruby blinks her glimmering lashes. “Sure,” she says slowly. “Sure, I like him fine.”
I don’t like where this is going.
“Nah, but I mean, you know.” Pan gestures with his own beer. “You think he’s cute?”
“Cute?” She laughs, but it’s a light, playful one, and she gives me what looks like a real smile. “Sure.”
I feel my face heat in spite of myself. I don’t want or need this attention, don’t know where I’m supposed to look or supposed to do. But Pan’s on a tear.
“You want him to take you out?” he prompts.
Now Ruby studies me. Like maybe she’s considering.
“Pan,” I say, sternly. “Come on.”
“I know, I know, maybe you don’t know him so well, but I’ll vouch for him,” Pan goes on. “We go wayyy back.”
Ruby frowns. “Didn’t you find him like six months ago? In an alley somewhere?”
“Eight months,” I correct. Before I can stop myself. “But who’s counting,” I add in a mutter.
“And he pretty much found me.” Pan’s hold on me tightens just slightly. “Saved my ass. Which is how I know he’s legit.”
Ruby gives his arm—the one that’s not holding me by the neck—a little smack. “I know he is!”
“See? He’s the best. A real stand-up guy.”
And then, without warning, Pan flings an arm around my neck.
Warm. Loose. Easy.
My eyes flutter closed just a fraction of a second.
“And very good with the ladies, I hear.”
His voice jolts my eyes back open. In front of us, Ruby’s pressing her lips together, chin lifted, like she’s actually interested now.
And the pulse in my throat is hammering against Pan’s skin.
“For real?” Ruby says.
“Oh, for real.” Pan beams, pulls me even tighter. “Seems my boy Tink here has got the magic touch.”
And he releases me. Wiggles his fingers for emphasis.
Fuck. I shut my eyes again, embarrassment burning up my neck. Stupid. I shouldn’t have bragged about that, no shit Pan would pull something like this, and I can’t…I can’t take Ruby on a date. What the fuck was I thinking?
I wasn’t thinking, is the answer, and now any possible thing I can think of to say is only going to sound more suspicious. Goddammit. Goddammit. My jaw is tense, my whole body is tense, and the extra pressure over my racing heart is making me feel lightheaded and—
—and why did he have to touch me like that?
“Thing is…” God bless her, Ruby speaks up before I can. “I don’t do blondes.” She gives a little apologetic cringe. “Sorry, Tink.” She extends a finger, boops me on the nose, and then slides my next beer in front of me, quick as a magic trick. “Enjoy!”
To my left, Pan looks put out.
“What was that for?” I say, an edge in my voice.
“What do you mean, what was it for?” Pan says, incredulous. “I’m tryna help you out.”
“I don’t need help.” I really, really don’t.
“Oh, please.” He grabs me by the chin, angles my face up at the wavy mirror panels above the bar. “Good lookin’ guy like you? Shouldn’t be sleeping alone.”
I feel my pulse give against his grip, once, twice. And swallow—
Nope. No. Too much. I yank away from him, shove back from the bar and get to my feet. “Gotta piss,” I explain, already walking.
I do everything I can to avoid public bathrooms, obviously, but the Lagoon’s one of the few exceptions. Single-serve, no stalls. You could be doing anything in there—and I’m sure people do—with no one any the wiser.
Inside, it’s barely big enough to turn around and smells like industrial pink hand soap and bleach. The ocean waves of the wall mural are peeling a little and the light is a fluorescent ceiling dome shadowed with the bodies of trapped dead bugs. But it’s private.
Door locked, I shake myself out.
I need a reset.
And I do have to pee.