Page 48 of God of War

In the end, I grab a pair of thick socks from my backpack and put them on with my sneakers, tucking the switchblade against my ankle. It looks a little bulky and out of place for summertime, but it’ll have to do.

A few minutes later, I head over to the bar. The beer I finished earlier is still fizzing in my blood, making me feel giggly and untethered, which works for me.

My plan is patchy and admittedly pretty juvenile. I just want to mess up Ares’ little date however I can. I already know this dress attracts pervy scumbags, so what if I just sit at the bar, minding my own business, and Ares is forced to come save me? His job is literally to protect me, not leave me alone in a motel room while he goes and gets his dick wet.

As I push inside, I’m caught off guard by how empty the place is. There’s a few scattered patrons and the music pumps loud through the room, which feels odd — like you’d have to shout over it to be heard in the near-empty bar.

Ares is nowhere to be seen. Neither is Shan.

“I guess the dinner rush is over,” I mutter as I hop onto a stool at the bar. The bartender, an older guy with a sleeveless metal band shirt, places a fresh coaster in front of me.

“What was that, sweetheart?”

“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head. I try my luck and order a drink and the bartender immediately scoops ice into my glass before splashing in vodka and spritzing in the soda. I feel little surge of triumph as he places it down on the coaster.

“Enjoy,” he says, flashing me a smile, before moving on to help somebody else.

I sip my drink, the tangy lighter-fluid concoction warming my belly and take another look around for Ares, checking the darkened corners of the room.

There’s a burst of noise from across the room. Three guys come stumbling through a plain, unmarked door. They’re clearly drunk and they shuffle over to the end of the bar, shouting obnoxiously for service. The bartender grimaces and strides over to the drunks.

I look around for Ares. Could I have missed him in a dark corner somewhere? Maybe I’m too late and he and Shan have already disappeared to be together. Bitter jealousy stings in my gut.

“Another, sweetheart?”

The bartender is back. I nod and push my empty glass toward him.

“Yes, please.”

“You waiting on someone?” he asks as he dumps out my glass and refills it with fresh ice and a slice of lime. “Let me guess, blind date?”

“Something like that,” I reply. I’m tempted to ask if he’s seen Ares, or even Shan, but that’s going to look way too suspicious. I land on a question that might get me a little closer to what I want to know.

“Are you guys still serving food?”

The bartender puts my drink down in front of me and shakes his head. “Nope, kitchen’s closed for the night. Everyone’s gone home.”

“Except you.”

“Except me, yep.”

I pick up my drink and take a sip. He’s gone home with her, then. The realization is painful, like a knife slipping between my ribs. I take another mouthful and nod, my cheeks bulging with drink.

“Mmm-hmm.” Swallow. Cough. Sputter. “That’s good. That’s great.”

The bartender eyes me carefully. “You alright there? Need a glass of water?”

Maybe. Yes. My head is swimming, the alcohol is hitting me too hard and too quickly. It forces my true feelings to rise to the surface is ugly, shameful clarity: I thought that Ares kind of, maybe, was starting to like me, but I was an idiot.

I shake my head.

“No, I’m good. But, I was wondering if you had… Is there a phone around here somewhere? Like a payphone?”

Screw Ares’ rules. If he lied to me about what he was doing tonight, he probably lied about putting Lilly’s number in his phone. If I asked to call her, he’d probably say no.

Asshole.

“Well, there’s no payphone,” the bartender says, scratching his bearded chin. “But, here— How about this, I’ll let you use the landline. Free of charge.”

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