Page 54 of Full Tilt
Hellion
Stop being nice. It doesn’t suit you.
My tentative smile grows more obvious.
Me
I’m in your shitty part of town. Come have a drink with me.
Hellion
I can’t share a drink with my enemies. It doesn’t sit well with my conscience.
Me
Why not? I’ve got half a bottle of bourbon remaining and a sticky booth reserved in a seedy bar.
Hellion
You already drank half a bottle of liquor?!
Me
Not quite, but if you don’t join me, I’ll likely finish the entire thing myself. I don’t drink often, and it might not end well …
Hellion
And now you’re blackmailing me with your safety.
Me
Is it working?
Hellion
FFS. Give me the address.
I’veno idea how much time has passed—or how many more drinks I’ve taken on board—when Jenna dumps herself down opposite me in the booth.
My vision might be a little hazy and my brain slower to process regular thoughts, but fuck me, is she beautiful.
Especially when she’s mad, like she is right now.
I draw my bottom lip between my teeth, turning my empty glass around on the table.
Jenna reaches across and inspects the bottle, a disapproving groan floating across the table, along with her perfume. “You drank another quarter while I was on my way over here?”
Pinching my thumb and forefinger together, I can’t help an intoxicated chuckle. “Only a little more.”
Rolling her eyes, she snatches my glass and pulls the bottle toward her, removing the cork and filling it to the brim.
She tosses it back in one and—Jesus fucking Christ—doesn’t even flinch when she slams the glass down, swiping the back of her hand across her mouth.
My jaw is agape when she refills the glass and sinks another shot.
Her silky, dark hair—which is down and around her shoulders—shines red beneath the neon sign attached to the wall above the booth.
“Why are you drinking yourself silly?” she asks in an agitated tone.
