Page 8 of Small Town Firsts
Anyone but her.
I closed my eyes for a moment and steadied my hand before pulling the bottle out of the ice. “Care for a shot, Anne?”
She looked down her nose at the plastic shot glasses. “There’s only one kind of tequila worth doing a shot for.”
I shrugged. “Your loss.” I filled a cup, licked my hand and sprinkled salt on the skin above my thumb. “José always works for me.” I licked the salt and quickly drank the shot, chasing it with the crisp lime. “Anyone else?”
The blond held up a cup. “I’m in.”
“That’s what I’m talking about.” I poured her one and started filling cups.
“Leave it to a Webb to have the tequila at the ready.” Anne arched a brow and crossed her arms.
“Lay off, Anne.” Another voice came from the crowd of girls who were lining up for a free drink.
I forced my smile to brighten. “I’m just here to have a good time like everyone else.” I’d learned long ago how to compartmentalize the pain of my family’s reputation versus my own reality. But the stab hurt, as it always did.
“Aren’t you working?”
I poured myself another shot, Anne’s voice grating enough for me to make it a double. “Last night at Lucky’s for me.” I tossed it back and stared her down. I desperately wanted the lime to help out the burn, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
Anne frowned at me. “Since when didn’t you need two jobs for your debts?”
My hand fisted at my side. The urge to stab her in the eye with my pen was almost too much to ignore. “My debts are paid.” At least the ones to anyone I’d hurt. The bank still owned me for a few more years.
“Right.”
One of her friends urged her back to their table, and the uncomfortable silence went with her.
Soon enough, the idea of free drinks overrode the snide Anne Montgomery’s jabs. And as predicted, flashing a bottle of alcohol brought a few more people of the male persuasion upstairs.
It took a few minutes to get the vibe back into the party zone. Passing out limes and tiny plastic cups kept things light and fun until I had to flag Ruby for another bottle. She flashed me a middle finger, but I noticed the cash register was ringing up fast and furiously.
Kenny, one of the waiters, came up with another bottle and was surrounded by women before he could get the cap off. He laughed as he helped to pour. His gaze slid to me with a raised brow. He was a few years younger than me, but I caught him checking out my boobs. I didn’t hate it.
The taste of tequila prompted more beers and a round of margaritas as well. Pretty soon the buzz of conversation was laced with more laughter and the syrupy flirtatious banter that a good night always included.
My job here was done. I figured a pair of twenty dollar bottles had netted at least a few hundred dollars’ worth of drink sales. I’d have to remember that for the taproom on the slow nights.
“Thanks for the assist, Kenny.”
“No problem.” He took the pail and put the empty bottles inside. “Should have done that sooner.”
I stacked the cups and tossed the last of the limes into the bucket. “Tequila is always the way to a good time. Or trouble,” I added with a laugh.
“No, I mean, uncovering all of that.” Gesturing vaguely toward me, he licked his lips and cleared his throat. “Respectfully, you’re hot as fuck.”
I pressed my lips together. “Not exactly the uniform.”
“It should be.”
My cheeks heated. “Thanks, I think.”
“Oh, it was a compliment.”
“You’re barely twenty-two, Kenny.”
“You’re what? Twenty-five?”
