Page 18 of Acid

She tilts her head and smiles. “Sure.”

I hold my index finger up telling her to wait there while I quickly run in my room and grab my hoodie off the back of the chair. I hold it out to her. “It ain’t freshly clean, but it doesn’t stink either. It will keep you warm,” I state. She nods with a smile and puts it on. We walk into the bar. “All of you, fuck off,” I bark at the prospects. They quickly scramble to their feet and leave. “Sit.” I point to a bar stool and Rhea climbs on it, leaning her elbows on the bar surface as she watches me move around. I grab two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila and pour us each a shot. I hold mine up, waiting while she picks up hers. “Here is to friendship,” I toast and we down the shot.

“Oh god.” She wheezes and gags, her entire body shuddering.

I laugh and pour us another. “It will get easier the more you drink,” I tell her before I down another shot.

She grabs her shot and stares at it, her face flushed and a look of disgust on her face. “The things we do for friends,” she toasts and downs it. “Son of a bitch.” She shudders.

I pour another. “Okay, third time’s the charm,” I tell her, holding out her refilled shot to her. She takes it in her hand.

“You know I don’t really drink, right? Like ever,” she rasps, her voice all croaky from the tequila.

“I know, darlin’. Don’t worry, I will take care of you,” I assure her.

“You better, mister,” she warns.

I smile. “On three. One, two, three,” I chant and down the shot. Rhea does the same, shuddering but not gagging this time. “See? You are getting used to it,” I tell her.

“Can’t you make me a nice cocktail of something?” she pleads.

I click my fingers. “Sure thing.” I grab a glass and pour some tequila and every other bottle of liquor I can find before topping it with soda. “Bon appetite,” I state proudly.

“I ain’t touching that,” she refuses, shaking her head.

“Just a sip,” I press.

She looks from the glass to me, looking sceptical. Sighing, she takes it. Pinching her nose closed, she surprises the shit out of me and gulps back at least half of it. She slams the glass back down, her eyes streaming, her cheeks bright red as she fights the urge to throw up.

“Your turn,” she challenges.

I smirk as I take the glass and down the rest. I cough afterwards as the alcohol burns my throat. “Okay, that was nasty. No more of that,” I state.

“Thank god,” she sighs. “Can we not have some music on or something?” she asks.

“Sure, what do you want?” I ask as I pull my cell out of my pocket.

“I’m feeling like something rock. I have the sudden urge to head bang and just rock the fuck out,” she states.

I look at her and see she’s already feeling drunk. I press play on the app and press play on the Limp Bizkit song Break Stuff. The speakers around the bar vibrate as the music blares through it. She jumps down off her stool and starts jumping around.

“Come on, it’s fun,” she says, beckoning me over. I grab the tequila bottle and take a long gulp. “Chainsaw!” she yells, trying to sing along. She bends over and head bangs, flinging her head around and around. I stand there watching her, laughing whenshe holds out her hand making the devil sign with her fingers. As the song finishes, she stops panting and looks at me. “Man, that felt good,” she pants. She grabs the hem of the hoodie and lifts it over her head, not realising she’s removing the T-shirt underneath, too. She throws them across the room, letting out a “Woo!” as she lets go.

“Darlin’, you are going to feel that in the morning, and to add, you are just stood there in a bra and shorts,” I tell her.

She looks down at herself and cups her breasts, as if she’s surprised they are there. “Oh yeah.” She laughs. “Oh, well.” She shrugs. “I’m living for the moment, pain be damned!” she sings as she climbs back on the stool. “Barman. Drink,” she demands, slamming her palm down on the bar.

I stand at the other end of the bar and pour her a shot of tequila before I slide it down to her. She misses and it slides right off the end of the bar and smashes on the floor. “Shit, again,” I state, doing it again. She just watches it slide past her and onto the floor. “Darlin’, you’re supposed to catch it and stop it falling off the end of the bar,” I tell her.

“Oh! Haha! Okay, Brian Flanagan. I’m ready, let’s do this.” She claps excitedly.

I frown. “Who?” I ask.

“Oh, come on. Brian from the movie Cocktail?” she says, rolling her eyes which makes her wobble on her stool.

“Okay, okay, gotcha.” I nod. “You ready this time?” I ask her.

She nods, then shakes her head. “No, wait. I don’t want to screw this up again,” she rushes out and climbs up onto the bar, straddling it. “Okay, now I can’t miss it. Go,” she demands.

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