Page 3 of Bee

I'm well on my way to having someone pick me up tonight.

I don't care though. I'm living my life and have a great time doing it.

"Damn, girl, you can really put it away." A man sitting next to me leans over to whisper in my ear. I lean back to get a good look at him. I'm not sure if it's because of the whiskey goggles I haveon right now or what, but he's probably one of the finest men I've ever seen. He'll do just fine for tonight.

It's my process. I get fucked up, find a man to have some fun with, and usually wind up sneaking out of his house or the hotel some time in the early morning hours.

"I can put a lot of things away... you want to see?" I do my best to sound sexy but the words come out on a slight hiccup.

I'm so wasted right now.

"Fuck yeah. Let's go." Mr. Sexy man next to me says and instantly reaches for his wallet to pay the bill.

"Maybe you should wait for your girls tonight." A deeper more agitated voice barks in my direction and it takes me a minute to figure out where it's coming from. My head is turning slow at least that's what it seems like.

"What?" I question, finally looking across the bar.

I should know his name. I'm in here enough that I should really know the bartenders name.

"I said, I think you should wait for your girls to pick you up tonight." The bartender repeats while he tosses a white towel over his shoulder. Just to further accentuate his point he crosses his arms over his chest and glares at me.

On what world did he think that was going to work? That's not going to do anything besides make me want to go against his word even more. Didn't he know who I was. I'm Bumblebee, nothing is ever going to hold me down.

"Thanks for the advice, old timer, but I'm free to go wherever I want and right now it's with that hot piece of ass."

"Hot piece of ass?" The man to my side asks, puffing his chest out.

"Whatever." The bartender shakes his head and walks off toward the end of the bar.

I don't know why part of me is a little upset that it was so easy to get him to give up on me. As of recently, I feel like that's whateveryone has been doing. As much as I hate to admit it even the girls down at the club have been doing little more than putting up with me.

Everyone is in their committed married phase, but not me. I'm still free as a bird with no intention of ever settling down. Not again. The last time I tried that it came back to bite me in the ass. I'll never forget the pain I went through with Cage.

Still, it wasn't until recently that I started coming to the bars every night on my own. Riot and Sugar used to come with me all the time but now they think the bar scene is played out. They want to do, what they call, more fulfilling activities. Turns out that means baking bread or target practice.

Boring shit if you ask me.

"Another round!" I shout and raise my hand so the bartender can stop pretending that he doesn't see me. He doesn't even have to ask what I want. He's already got my order memorized.

The grumpy bartender pours me another drink and with a shake of his head slides it in my direction before walking off and taking care of another customer.

"Nah, baby. You don't need another. We need to get out of here remember?" The man to my side reminds me and I'll admit I honestly did forget that I'd already made plans to leave. Oh well, one more drink isn't going to hurt.

I reach forward to grab the cup that's right in front of me. I miss. Damn I'm a little more wasted than I thought.

"Come on. I got you." The man grabs my hand and urges me from the bar stool I'm sitting on.

"Hold up. I need to pay my tab." I say as I fight to get my feet planted on the floor.

"Don't worry about it. I've got it." He smiles and wraps his arm around my waist. He's holding me tight. Too tightly.

"You sure?" I question trying to process what's going on.

"Yeah. It's all paid for." He nods his head and once again urges me forward.

"Oh...okay." I mumble and my stomach lurches upward. I have to put my hand on my mouth to keep the copious amounts of liquor from coming up.

I look over my shoulder and the world tilts on its side for a second before it rights itself and I stumble another few steps. The bartender isn't looking at me, but there are a few other drinkers who are. Instead of happiness, I can see pity in their eyes. Like they know something I don't. If I had enough control over my hands right now, I'd flip them all the bird. I don't need to be judged.

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