Page 33 of Last Round

“You mean…?”

“Yup, just like the old days. We’ll go shot for shot. Last man standing wins.”

“You want to take shots of that?” He gulps as he gestures to the bottle.

“Are you insane?” I cover the whiskey’s nonexistent ears. “That’s blasphemy,” I scoff. “No, we’ll take shots of something cheap and disgusting, like real men.”

“Idiots,” he clarifies. “That’s whatidiotswould do.”

“Well, are you in, or are you in?” I flash him a lopsided grin, knowing full well there is no way he’ll refuse my offer. Not if he really wants to sign that fighter.

“Let me get this straight? If I win, we will bring on Il Duce. If you win, we…”

“We’ll see how I feel after I’m drunk.” I shrug. Who knows? After I kill a few brain cells, the idea might not seem so bad.

“Do I get to pick the poison?” Sean asks.

I roll my eyes. “Fine.” That means tequila’s out of the question.Figures.

“Want to do this at K.O.’s tonight?” he proposes.

“And have a group of spectators watch me kick your ass? Abso-fucking-lutely!”

“It’s a deal then.” Sean extends a hand.

“Deal,” I say, sealing the agreement with our signature, overly complicated handshake.

S.O.

Molly

“Wow,”Isay,myjaw dropping in amazement as I step into the bar. It’s the most packed it’s been since I started. Standing-room only. I catch poor Chelsea trying to squeeze her way through the crowd. “What’s going on?”

“Your brother and Killian are numbskulls,” she says as though I didn’t already know that. She gestures past the sea of people towards the stage. It’s set up with a table, two chairs, and several shot glasses.

“What the hell is that?”

“You’ll see,” she replies with a cryptic chuckle. Someone calls her name, and it’s clear that exhaustion is already plaguing her normally smiling face.

“Hey.” I stop her. “Do you need help tonight?” I’m not on the schedule but it’s obvious they’re swamped.

“Really?” Chelsea perks up.

“Of course. I was just meeting Bex here for a girls’ night.” And to drive Killian insane while he’s working. “She won’t mind. It’s not like we’re getting a table anyway.” I gesture to the overcrowded establishment that’s a few bodies shy of getting the fire department called on it for being over capacity.

“You’re an angel. Thank you.” She squeezes me tightly before getting back to work.

I force myself through the thick crowd to the back lockers so I can drop off my purse.

“I thought you were off tonight?” Dani asks, her eyes focused on the mirror in front of her as she touches up her black lipstick.

“Yeah, I am. But it looked like you could use some extra people.”

“It’s insane out there. And thank you.” Dani glances at me. “Do you have a different shirt?”

I peer down at my white crochet crop top. “No. I was hoping that since I was stepping in, no one would care too much about the whole blacktoppart of ourdress code.” I use the terms loosely, seeing as it’s already been established that the standards at the bar are set pretty low.

“It’s not so much about thedress code… We all wear black tops because it just makes it easier to tell who’s working. Especially when we are packed like this.” Dani digs into her locker and pulls out a shirt. If you can even call it that. “Here.”

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