28. Chapter 28
Grace
“She’s all yours!” The bartender smacked the top of the taxi, and I slid onto the black leather seat while the world spun to catch up with me. I burped, and the taste of cheap whiskey burned the back of my throat, causing me to scowl.
Can I get another one of these?
Maybe I should call you a cab instead.
“All mine, huh? I like the sound of that. Where ya headed?” The door closed abruptly, and the click of the door latch seemed louder than normal.
An overwhelming smell of a cheap air freshener, aerosol spray cologne, and fast food made my stomach churn.
I swallowed the cheap whiskey that threatened to come back up, half regretting the last shot—or two.
I sat up straight, trying to make myself as sober as possible as I buckled my seatbelt. “Home, please.”
“And where is home, sweetheart?” The driver chuckled while he shifted into gear and pulled away from the curb. I tried to remember which direction home was from here. Where was I?
“You can turn right up here.” I pointed to the street coming up, leaning forward in the seat. When I looked in the rearview mirror, my eyes locked with his. In a blink, the car felt colder. I glanced at the locked door and back at his attentive stare.
When the light turned red, I took note of the lack of people standing on the sidewalks. There weren’t many cars around us. Why didn’t he take a busier street?
Mariah once told me hitting the window with the corner of your phone hard enough could break it. I couldn’t remember why she felt that was important in the middle of biology class on a random Tuesday, but it came in handy now. My phone felt sturdy in my hand.
“You having fun tonight?” Was he nosey or uncomfortable in the silence? When he cleared his throat and chuckled, my hair stood on end.
“Fun enough, but I have to get up early tomorrow.” I swallowed when he lifted a brow, and when he licked his lips, I held my breath. “My roommate has been waiting for me for hours!”
He chortled, like he knew I didn’t have a roommate. “I’m sure she has. She didn’t want to go out with you? A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out alone. You never know what someone will want to do.” The once-over he gave me felt like a checklist.
“Not tonight. Busy week.” I forced a laugh that didn’t even sound convincing to me.
Then, I saw the familiar worn, wooden doors I had walked through with Connor.
I knew those doors. When his face flashed across my mind, I felt comfort before the rush of disappointment when I remembered why he wasn’t with me. “Actually, can you stop here?”
“What? Don’t have to get up so early anymore?” He didn’t slow down. I watched the light turn yellow. Please don’t speed up. I watched the bar get close. He didn’t stop.
I shook my head. “I do. Just…forgot something.”
“I’ll take you back.” Shit. He started to slow down, gliding into the left lane. I looked behind me.
“No, really. It’s okay. This is perfect.” The buzz that had my skin tingling moments earlier was replaced by a suspicious chill. “Can you unlock the door please?”
He furrowed his brow. “We’re in the middle of traffic. At least let me pull over.”
“It’s okay.” I tugged at the handle, but the door didn’t open.
As if I thought anything would have changed, I did it again, then again until he unlocked the door.
I threw it open, jumping out into temporarily paused traffic just as the light turned green.
“Thanks for the ride!” I shouted, throwing a twenty-dollar bill into the car and slamming the door.
“Are you kidding me?” He shouted as I skipped into the street, crossing between cars to the sidewalk. On the sidewalk, I tried to slow my breathing, avoiding the stares from the few people smoking their cigarettes.
My chest heaved even as I straightened my spine. Act natural. I pulled too confidently on the door to the bar, stumbling back from the weight of the door when it swung open. The inside was dim with the warning that I probably shouldn’t be here. Connor probably wasn’t here anyway. And what if he is?
“Vodka and soda, please,” I said, confidently tapping the countertop and earning a lifted brow from the bartender. He didn’t move to grab a glass. His hands didn’t even budge from where they were planted. When he narrowed his eyes and a low grumble rolled from his chest, I swallowed.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Same thing everyone else is doing.” I looked around the probably-as-busy-as-it-gets bar and gestured vaguely. “Having a drink.”
The bartender rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t have to serve you. Your money is no good here.” It felt like a challenge—sometimes, I liked a challenge.
“Fine.” I scanned the bar until I landed on a man sitting alone at the other end of it.
When he looked up, his stare felt like an opportunity.
He smirked like an offer. I slithered off the barstool and sauntered down the bar to where the man’s stare had intensified.
“Hey there.” My fingers danced over the countertop.
“You don’t look like you belong here,” he said, as if the little black dress I wore told him I belonged in the North End.
I shrugged. “If I didn’t belong here, then I wouldn’t have walked in, and you wouldn’t have had the pleasure of buying me a drink.” The man sat back on his stool, slightly taken back by the audacity even I didn’t think I’d earned. “Vodka soda?”
“What’s in it for me?” He waved to the bartender anyway, and I draped my hand over his shoulder. “Hey buddy, let me get another beer and, uh…what did you want again?”
“Vodka soda.” I smirked at the bartender and leaned into the stranger.
The bartender grabbed the glass, leaning forward. “You’d better be careful. Don’t think I don’t recognize you. Nobody should assume they’re safe here.” He grabbed the vodka bottle, shaking his head while he poured over the ice. “Especially you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Was it written on my face? How did everyone seem to know? The bartender set the glass on the counter. “Lime, please.”
“It means these aren’t safe men.” He shot me a warning glance when he dropped the lime into the glass. The drink splashed slightly over the side.
I dug the lime out of the drink, squeezing it and dropping it back in before I took a step away from the man next to me. “Maybe I’m not a safe woman.” I winked. “Thanks for the drink, handsome.”
“Now hold on a minute.” The man grabbed my wrist like I knew his name. “I just bought you that drink. The least you can do is enjoy it with me.”
“Oh, you want to enjoy a drink together?” I spun around, pressing my body against his with a boldness that only came from more alcohol than was reasonable.
“Is that it? Or were you hoping I’d go home with you?
Maybe drunkenly fuck you in the parking lot?
” I lowered my voice so it could barely be heard over the music. “Should I blow you in the bathroom?”
He glared at me with a seething that could only mean he regretted spending the eight dollars on a weaker-than-it-should-be drink. “You could lose the attitude, for starters. Nobody said you had to fuck me, but maybe you should show some appreciation.”
The carbonation from the soda burned my esophagus when I chugged the last of the drink, and when I slammed the glass back on the counter, it drew the attention of the bartender and the handful of people closest to us. “Oh, you want a show?”
I pulled the stool from the counter and climbed onto it while the man’s eyes widened. “You need to get down from there,” the bartender demanded in a tone that lacked any patience.
“But this man wants a show,” I said, stepping onto the top of the counter. “It’s the least I can do.” I rolled my bottom lip in an imitation pout and winked. What the hell was I doing?
“Listen, chick.” A warning.
I kicked my leg up and tilted my head back. Then, I spun back around and rolled my hips, swinging them side to side. If the man wanted a show, I’d give him a show.
“Get her the fuck off my bar.” My blood ran cold when Mickey’s voice cut through the booze-induced haze and silenced the music. I turned toward him, continuing to dance.
“What’s wrong, Mickey? Don’t like my show?
” Even the stranger at the end of the bar had stopped outwardly showing his interest, even though his eyes continued to dart toward me.
I knew I was playing with fire. I knew I was probably going to get burnt.
Supposedly, with enough alcohol, I wouldn’t even feel it.
The bartender closed his hand around my ankle and tugged, pulling my leg out from under me with minimal effort.
I shrieked as I fell forward, and as the old wooden counter quickly got closer to my face, I wondered if I’d made a mistake.
Was this really a better idea than letting the cab driver show me if he was shady?
My face slammed against the counter, and a sharp pain shot down the back of my neck. For the first time since my fourth whiskey shot, the world stopped swaying and spinning, and the buzz I felt disappeared. I was wrong—I felt it all.
“Who let her in here?” Mickey asked when my vision blurred.
The bartender lifted me from the counter, and I felt warm drops of blood fall from the tip of my nose onto my upper lip. “She let herself in.”
“Well get her the fuck out of here,” Mickey grumbled, and my eyes fluttered shut.
I let out a huff when the bartender threw me over his shoulder.
When he started walking away, the sound of the bar got quieter, but Mickey’s angry grunts were loud.
“Throw her in the basement. Looks like we just found our leverage.”