Page 78 of Puck Princess

I’m not okay. I’m anything but.

26

OWEN

“What I wanna know is why are we sitting here at Pour Boys like a bunch of poor boys when Rodger Santos basically named a club after us downtown?” Kason is already drunk, and we’ve only been here for an hour.

I want to point out that he’d be out four times as much money if he’d gotten drunk at The Jaguar, but the only reason I’m here at all is to foster some goodwill. Setting off Santos isn’t the move.

Not that setting him off is hard.

Spencer slaps his hand down next to his second beer of the night. “I said the same thing. Why not go to the party hub of the Scythes and get a real party started? Instead, we’re at this dive.”

The waitress overhears him as she sets down a basket of fries and makes no effort to hide her offense. The next drink out is going to have spit in it, I’m sure.

I offer her an apologetic smile and make a mental note to tip her well.

She smiles back. “Can I get y’all anything else while I’m here?”

“Another round of beers. On me.” Spencer’s voice carries through the whole bar. He’s never quiet, and alcohol turns that dial up to eleven.

Spencer carries on, talking about himself and his daddy’s new club. To spare everyone the gruesome sight of me quieting him with the dirty bar towel, I take a private trip to the bar.

The waitress is filling two pitchers for our table. I make a point of reading her name tag. “When you have a second, Rachel, can I get a shot of bourbon?” Spencer’s laugh echoes through the bar, and I grit my teeth. “Make that a double.”

Rachel smiles politely. “You got it. In fact, I’ll grab that first. I think your guys need a break between rounds.”

“Sorry about them. They’re good guys. Mostly.”

She pours the honey-colored remedy that is going to chill my nerves and make Santos moderately more tolerable.

She pushes the glass towards me. “This one’s on me.”

I take it and pass her a one hundred dollar bill. “And that’s on me.”

“Hey, Sharpe!” Dax shouts. “Quit harassing the waitress so she can bring us our beer. We’re dry over here.”

I sigh, but Rachel just smiles. “Let me know if you need a refill. I’ll keep ‘em coming.”

I’d like to see any of the servers at The Jaguar dole out service like that. This place may be a dive, but the people are nice. They know how to take care of customers and mind their business. Plus, I’m not worried pictures of the guys drunk and flipping over tables will be all over the internet in the morning.

Spencer taps the side of my glass as I sit down. “My beer not good enough for you?”

“I needed something a little stronger.”

And as the pitchers continue to flow, everyone taking stumbling steps towards getting more and more shitfaced, my need for something a little stronger only grows.

“Here’s what I wanna know…” Heath slurs. “I’ve been playin’ for the Scythes for three years now?—”

“Two years,” Kason corrects him.

“Two years and some change… and no one even knows who I am.”

“That’s because you have to be good at hockey for anyone to give a shit.” Dax jabs him in the ribs, and Heath sloshes beer down his shirt.

He elbows him back, sloshing more beer. “Fuck you, bro!”

Everyone laughs, and even I join in this time.

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