Page 18 of Slew Foot
Deciding this was probably a terrible place to sit and it would only get worse as the night went on and people got drunker, Mickey slid off his stool and tugged at Rafe’s shirt.
“C’mon, let’s go find somewhere quieter to sit.”
They found a booth near one wall and Rafe sat sideways in it, stretching his long legs out. “Ahh, yeah that’s better,” he said with a sigh.
“Good.” Mickey wrapped his fingers around his pint glass. It was about half-gone.
“So the team’s GM and a trainer are together, huh?” Rafe asked with a lift of his eyebrow and a twist to his mouth that made him look like he’d tasted something unpleasant.
“You don’t approve?”
Rafe shrugged, staring down at his own barely touched glass. “Obviously I’m kinda biased against it but yeah, I think it’s asking for trouble to date someone you work with.”
“Must have been a rough breakup you had,” Mickey said sympathetically.
“It was but I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Sure,” Mickey said with an easy shrug. “Whatdoyou want to talk about?”
“Anything but that.”
Mickey ran through his choices and settled on something that was hopefully not a sensitive subject. “What kind of music are you into?”
“Oh.” Rafe brightened. “So, all kinds of things, but …”
Some time later, after they’d fetched a second round of drinks and had finished listing off all the concerts they’d ever been to, a piercing whistle broke through the noise.
Mickey glanced over to see Jesse standing on a table.
This could be … interesting.
“Alright, people,” Jesse shouted. “It’s New Year’s Eve, we’ve got ten minutes to go until midnight, and I don’t know about you, but I’m excited about all of the new changes happening around here! I think we need to do some shots to celebrate!”
Connor got a distressed look on his face as he stared up at his boyfriend, and he held up a hand. “Liam and his crew were nice enough to arrange a variety of them on the bar there. Some have alcohol, some don’t, so grab whichever you’d like. And remember, if you need a ride home tonight, talk to Liam. He’ll get you taken care of.”
The white-haired man behind the bar held up a hand and called out, “That would be me. There will be no drink-driving tonight on my watch.”
Mickey felt a momentary flicker of confusion before he remembered that was what the Irish called driving under the influence.
“Want a shot?” Mickey asked. “Of something non-alcoholic?”
“Uhh.” Rafe blinked at him. “You know, I probablyshouldn’thave alcohol, but fuck it. The team’s celebrating tonight, yeah?”
Mickey chuckled and stood. “Okay. I’ll grab one for you. Is there any kind of liquor you don’t want?”
“No vodka,” Rafe said firmly and as Mickey crossed the bar to get shots for both of them, he wondered if the no vodka rule had something to do with his ex or memories of a particularly bad hangover.
Either way, Mickey grabbed him a butter rum shot to be safe. When he handed it to Rafe, he sniffed it warily, then nodded his approval.
Once everyone had their shots in hand, Jesse cleared his throat. “So, first of all, I’d like to say welcome to our newest Harrier. Glad to have you here, Rafe!”
To Mickey’s surprise, Rafe rose to his feet with a bright smile, lifting his shot glass in the air in acknowledgment. “Glad to be here!”
He sat again, still smiling, and Mickey downed his shot of tequila.
A passing server offered them more shots and Mickey glanced at Rafe. He shrugged and took one. Mickey had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well, but hey, Rafe was an adult. If he’d changed his mind about getting drunk tonight, that was his decision.
Mickey shook his head when she offered him one.
