Page 11 of Promise Kept

Henri takes a step and I pull out a chair to block his path.

I reach for a glass of water on the table.

This won’t fucking do.

I hate that I have no choice but to stick my fingers into my mouth and whistle to get someone’s attention. It makes me look like a fucking pretentious asshole.

But we need booze. And fast.

I call out to a waiter to just bring a bottle.

Bring fucking anything!

I snap my fingers again.

I feel like a fucking cock.

Henri moves the chair I put in his path.

I side step and get in front of Henri.

I look into Devyn’s eyes.

Devyn puckers his lips. “Thought you were going to drop by, huh?”

“When did I ever say that?”

“Last time we talked.”

“Which was…?”

“That’s what I thought, Ellis. Too good for us slumming it. I guess your money is greener.”

“I’ll chalk this nonsense up to grief,” I growl. “But I would advise you to ease back a little. We’re all feeling it, Devyn. We’ve been in this for a long time together.”

“Is this you giving me a speech right now?”

Someone is going to end up throwing a punch.

And when we start up…

“Drink time,” Damien announces.

The waiter has brought us some top-shelf whiskey.

No doubt done on purpose, knowing we’re good for the money.

Little fucking prick… trying to make a quick buck off our broken hearts.

Although, if we’re being honest, are our hearts all that broken?

Over Heston?

“Get the glasses,” Aron says. “Come on.”

Damien pours the whiskey like it’s free water.

The glasses overflow with ease.

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