Page 15 of Mr. Big Mistake
“And why do you care anyway?” Zane asked.
“That’s a good question,” Clint pointed out.
I scoffed. “Why the hell do I care about a good friend’s reputation? Gee, I wonder.”
Zane shook his head. “There is more. I’ve never seen you step up to the plate for someone like this. You’re always in it for yourself.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
Clint clapped my back. “He’s right. You’ve always been selfish, and even more so when it comes to women. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you didn’t like this because you want to be in my position.”
Zane’s eyes bulged. “Do you want to be in Clint’s position?”
I rolled my eyes. “Fuck you both.”
Clint grinned. “Ditto.”
“Look, you don’t want to settle down with anyone anyway. So, stop getting butthurt over stupid shit,” Zane told me.
I stared him down. “I’m fine, all right? Forget I ever said anything.”
“What did you say again?” Clint asked.
Zane’s head fell back in laughter as I glared at Clint. He had the cheekiest grin on his face, and I wanted to smack it right off. I restrained myself, though. Instead, I turned on my heels and walked away from them. I walked away from the asinine adventure, and from the teasing conversation, I knew it would continue if I didn’t remove myself from the situation.
And I found my gaze lingering on Kelly.
Her slender features were framed with that long blonde hair of hers. Softly curled to accent the roundness of her cheeks, her blue doe eyes looked two ticks shy of panicked as I passed by her. She had her hands tucked between a pair of delicious thighs I’d dreamt about for months back in college. The diamond earrings her father had gotten her as a graduation present sparkled against her precious earlobes as I made my way for the stairs. I resisted the urge to peek back at her as I carried my empty glass back to the bar. The soft jazz music wafted over the heads of the patrons in Club Verona. The lights slowly moved back and forth. Side to side. Creating a mesmerizing pattern that could soothe even the most tumultuous of souls.
“Another drink?” the bartender asked.
I looked up at Clint and saw him staring at the band as an idea occurred to me.
“Two, please,” I said.
“What’ll it be?”
I grinned. “Two fingers of whiskey on the rocks and the strongest mixed drink you’ve got for men on the menu.”
“Coming right up.”
I carried the first round of drinks up the stairs and handed the mixed cocktail to Clint. He stared down at it before his eyes moved back to me, and I held up my hands. The plan had to work. I had to get him as wasted as possible so he couldn't even move, much less be coordinated enough to sleep with Kelly.
And after sipping the drink, I watched him tip it up.
“See? I told you this place has excellent drink selections,” I said.
I kept feeding him drinks while Zane shook his head at me. Clint accepted them, one after another, until his speech began to slur, and the balcony railing became his only hope for standing up. Six drinks in and the man couldn't stand up straight. Zane had to drop his drink in order to catch Clint before he fell to the floor when he tried to move towards Kelly!
Mission accomplished.
“Uh, hi guys. Um, Clint?”
I heard Kelly’s voice behind me, and I turned around.
“Hey there,” I said.
She nodded without looking at me. “Hey, Brenden. Clint, are you all right?”
