Page 11 of Out of My Flocking Mind

“The other day,” she said, the words causing a rush of relief to pour through me. The other day meant he must have just told her about the council nonsense.

And what sort of life did I lead where all of that mess was nonsense?

“Something else happened,” she said, her gaze sharp. For a moment, she looked like her brother.

“I told you before—it’s rude to pry into other people’s minds.”

“And I told you, I can’t sense your emotions. I’m just good at reading your face. What else happened?”

I waved her off, then picked up another glass and downed the contents in one big, burning gulp. After slamming the glass on the bar, I offered her a wide grin. “Nothing that needs repeating. Now, come on, I didn’t come here to mope.”

Ignis gave me one hell of a look, one I knew all too well. It was her, ‘I disapprove of your poor coping methods’ look. However, she was here as my friend, not my therapist, so I shrugged and grabbed another shot glass.

Drinking this much might fix nothing, but it would let me forget about it all for a while.

That was the only thing I had to look forward to anymore.

* * * *

A few hours later and I was delightfully drunk. The music in the bar thundered through my ears and I swayed my body to the music.

Ignis had gone home an hour earlier, after trying to load me into a cab that I had promptly escaped from. I didn’t blame her—she’d tried her best to keep me under control. Then again, if men like Kelvin, Galen and Ruben hadn’t brought me to heel, Ignis had little chance of it.

The bar wasn’t the type made for dancing, but when had such trivialities ever stopped me from having myself a good time? So I stood alone, by the neon-lit jukebox, dancing my black little heart out to the same song I’d put on at least twenty times.

“Knock that off!” a man from the bar yelled, annoyance all over his features.

He was the sort of man who’d been in good shape when he was younger, but time had eventually caught up with him. He was tall and had put weight on so instead of being lean and fit, he was just large.

Not that it mattered—just outweighing me by a hundred pounds put him in a good position no matter how fit he was.

Also, size differences didn’t really matter to me.

So I smiled at him, and the idiot misunderstood that as some sort of flirting. I fixed that misconception by lifting my hands, middle fingers extended, all the while never missing the beat as I danced.

He narrowed his eyes, then got up and headed my way. He swayed, but his was because of alcohol rather than the music.

“You’ve been playing that song for an hour already,” the man said, his voice low. “How long are you gonna play it, for fuck’s sake?”

I shrugged. “You know when the world is supposed to end? I’m gonna play this for about an hour after that point.”

“This ain’t your personal bar, little girl.”

“Little girl?” I laughed at his insult. “You’re the one arguing about music with a little girl, aren’t you?”

He pressed his lips together and took another step closer. The crow inside me fluttered, already on cloud nine. Making bad choices, drinking too much, insulting men twice my size, those were all things that it adored.

Anything to put me in a place to get into trouble pleased it.

“That’s enough,” called out the bartender. “Sit down, Tony.”

“But she—”

The bartender offered one hell of a glare, cutting the man off with that look. “She’s been paying well and tipping even better all night. If she wants to dance, let her dance.”

The man curled his lip into a snarl before turning around, the words “rich cunt” leaving his lips under his breath.

I waved at his back while he retreated just as my stomach growled.

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