Page 12 of Knocked Up by Her Daddy's Friends

“What can I get for you fellas?” I ask, going over to take their order and trying to force a smile while preparing myself for anything.

“Don’t I know you?” one of them says.

He looks vaguely familiar, but he has such a generic, boy next door face, it’s hard to tell. He looks like any number of the preppy guys that Ethan hangs out with. I tend to try to avoid and ignore Ethan’s friends whenever they come over.

“Nope, don’t think so,” I reply, hoping it’s just some shitty pickup line and he doesn’t somehow know me.

“No, I do…” he says, thinking as he tries to place my face.

If he’s met me outside of here there’s a chance he won’t put the pieces together, I look so different when I work here.

“That’s it!” he says snapping his fingers, “You’re Ethan’s sister!”

Shit.

This is not good. If he tells Ethan about me working here, Ethan will run straight to his dad to tell him and then I’ll be in huge trouble. Bill and Mom will definitely forbid me from working here.

“Nope, you must be mistaken,” I reply, my voice shaking as I try to act cool.

“No it’s definitely you. Blake, you’ve seen Ethan’s sister before, right? This is her!” the guy says, calling over one of his buddies.

“Oh shit yeah, it is. What the hell are you doing working here?” the guy, Blake, says with a shit-eating grin, eyeing me up like I’m a stripper.

“Ethan never told us you work here,” the first guy says.

“I bet he doesn’t know,” Blake accurately guesses when he sees my pained expression.

There’s no way I’m gonna be able to convince these guys I’m not Ethan’s sister. Even if I wasn’t they’re so convinced and likely to find it funny to tease Ethan with. If they do that, Ethan’s bound to tell Bill or at least look into it.

“Let’s keep it that way, shall we?” I say, trying my best to sound cute and flirty, “There’s a free round of shots and a pitcher of beer in it for you,” I purr.

“Oh, this information is worth way more than that, sweetheart,” the first guy replies confidently.

He’s right of course, Bill would no doubt pay a fortune to keep this information from getting out and ruining his campaign.

“How’s about you sweeten the deal? You make me and my boys happy tonight, and when I say happy, I mean really happy,” Blake says suggestively, making it clear he means sexual favors, “And if you’re a really good girl for us, then maybe we’ll consider keeping quiet,” he says, grabbing my ass and giving it a mean squeeze.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I hiss, slapping his hand away.

He grabs my wrist pulling it painfully as he yanks me toward him, “But I want your pretty little mouth around my cock,” he says with a laugh as he tries to pull my head down to his crotch.

I pull away, but his hand is wrapped around my wrist like a vise. Quick as a flash and before I even fully register what’s going on, Blake’s head is slammed into the table, and he lets go of my hand. It’s then I realize that Drifter has come to my rescue, he’s normally the more jovial of the group but right now he seems murderous. I glance around wondering where Angel, Buzz, and Gunner are, usually if there’s trouble, all four of them handle it, but I can’t see them.

“What the fuck, I think you broke my nose!” Blake cries as he clutches his profusely bleeding nose.

“In this establishment, you keep your fucking hands to yourself unless given express permission, and I’m pretty sure the lady didn’t give you fucking permission,” he hisses his voice low and dangerous, his eyes like fire.

One of the other men gets up and attempts to throw a punch at Drifter but he’s sloppy and uncoordinated from drinking too much. Drifter easily dodges it, grabbing the man’s arm and pinning it behind his back, slamming him down against the table. The man yelps and squirms as Drifter painfully twists his arm back.

“Hey, man, my dad’s a lawyer and you bet your ass we’re gonna report you for assault,” another one of the guys pipes up arrogantly, trying to hide his cowardice.

Drifter fixes him with an unimpressed glare, “You think I give a shit kid? Now, you’ve got two choices. One, you can apologize to the lady, walk out that door, never come back, and write this off as a bad day, or two, I can single-handedly beat the living shit out of your pussy asses outside—which trust me I can do or my buddies would be only too happy to help. Sure, you can call the cops but if you piss me off and cause trouble for us, I can guarantee nothing will come of it and I’ll find you and make it a hell of a lot worse for you.”

It’s clear from his tone that Drifter isn’t joking around, and he’d be perfectly capable of putting all four guys in the hospital singlehandedly if that’s what it came down to.

“Fuck this, let’s go, it’s shit here anyway,” one says with false bravado.

They all mumble their assent and get up apart from the one that Drifter is still twisting the arm of.

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