Page 44 of Falling in Reverse

“You’re new here,” I vouch, plucking up a clean glass and keeping his unabandoned stare. “Just come back from a funeral or something?” I point at his suit, and he gives me a small shake of his head.

“Surprisingly no,” he replies before scanning over the crowd and uncovering a silver Rolex watch around his left wrist. “This is…a nice place.”

The last part undeniably seems forced, but I push through it anyway.

“What can I get you?”

“Shot of bourbon, the best you have, with a splash of lime juice.”

Gross.

“Do you want ice?” He holds up two fingers, but says nothing more, before I follow his specific drink order.

I make quick work and gently plant it in front of him on top of a napkin, about to pivot to ring him up, because I highly doubt he’ll be hanging out here for long. Tyga starts bumping off every surface when his next comment collides in a head-on collision with me.

“You’re Paisley Astor’s oldest daughter, aren’t you?”

My whole body freezes at the mention of my mother’s name. The woman who literally couldn’t stand me within an inch of her life. I never understood what I did to her, and the older I got, the more I steered clear while she loved up on my sisters like they were princesses and I was the red-headed stepchild.

But moneybags over here…let’s just say, we didn’t hang out with the rich and the famous over here in South Shore. And what’s not so fucking funny is that this is the third man who’s been sniffing around me for my name.

Hesitantly, I turn back to the man in the suit that costs more than the mortgage on our house and shake my head, pushing my lip out with, “Don’t know her.”

He watches me with a burning intensity over the rim of his glass, melting his claim into my brain to make it true. The faint wrinkles around his eyes pose no bullshit, but I’d have to admit to his truths to hold them as genuine, right?

He brings his whiskey to his mouth again and takes a small sip, licking at his bottom lip after he does. I appear nothing like my mother. “Sorry to hear about your dad.”

Alright, that’s two parents of mine he’s familiar with in under thirty seconds.

My blue eyes slice to Bubba, one of the bouncers in the bar, and notice that he’s not that far for me to flag down.

I’m already done with this asshole.

“You’re handling all his medical bills?”

The fuck?

“You have the wrong girl,” I retort sharply with a tapered slit to my gaze, cutting an end to this conversation. “Enjoy your drink. It’s on the house.”

The pad of his index fingers traces along the edge of his glass, and he’s not done, because as he speaks again, he grounds me to my spot. “I know what you look like, Bay.”

I’ve never inwardly cringed at someone saying my name before. And, in turn, it only waves more of those flashy red flags at me.

I really don’t resemble my mom, number one.

And number two, it’s time for Bubba.

I raise my hand in the air, my sole focus pinned on our big-ass bouncer, when rich prick cuts into my escape plan.

“Put your hand down, Miss Astor. You’re not gonna want to start any bullshit with me.”

“And who the fuck are you?” I sneer, slicing my attention back to him. Meanwhile, he’s too busy taking another long and generous sip of his drink and eyeing me like I’m fucked.

Apparently, I might be.

How he’s aware of who I am and what I look like—I might still be able to pull off the I don’t know what you’re talking about card. My mom had beautiful golden blonde hair and green eyes. A trim and skinny figure that she could pull off no bra and go shopping—probably the only time I was ever jealous of her.

If Mom would’ve stayed on the straight and narrow and stopped poppin’ pills, she could’ve been a model. Me, I have an ass for days and my tits are decent, except I wouldn’t cut the modeling business, because I enjoy junk food too much and I’d end up punching half the bitches for being cunts.

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