Page 22 of Girls Night
She puts both of her hands to her cheek and takes a step back. I let out a sigh. I know the princess isn’t used to being smacked, but she has to learn at some point to not take things that don’t belong to her.
I put my hands on my hips as I square my shoulders and glare at her.
“You have until tonight to put him back. If you don’t, then I tell Papa.”
Her face immediately falls into a toddler’s pout that has been admonished, but it won’t work. She doesn’t know how to do upkeep on things like I do. His head has probably rotted to the point that I’ll have to throw him away instead of presenting him as the gift I had originally intended to.
“Fine,” she finally says.
I smile slightly, half expecting her to stomp her foot, and chuckle when she turns on her heel and walks away from me.
That’s fine.
I liked the time I had alone in my room, and maybe a walk through the town will do me some good.
Chapter Six
Half an hour later, my ass is planted in a stool atEl Bebida del Océano.It’s one of my favorite bars since not many people come here looking for trouble.
The thirty minutes I spent wandering the streets felt good, but eventually, I found myself wanting a good, stiff drink.
I smile at the bartender as he places a white napkin down in front of me and a small glass of Tequila. I like it when people recognize me for things other than being the harbinger feared by so many.
I drop twenty pesos on the bar top and begin to sip my drink. My eyes wander up toward the small television in the center of the bar. There’s a football game on, and while I’m not one for sports other than hunting people, I decide that’s better than nothing.
When the bartender starts to walk away, I lean up onto the bar top. Just enough to be able to see his shoes before I sit down and get comfortable again.
I’ve never seen him before, and I don’t think he was at Papa’s party, but one can never be too sure until verifying things.
I’m two drinks in when a man sits on the stool next to me. Instinctively, I scoot to the empty stool next to me, ensuring that there will be an open space.
He chuckles but doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. I don’t even look at him after glancing down quickly and letting out a deep breath at him not being the one either.
And the more I sit here thinking about it, the more I wonder how I would react if I ever found the man that hurt me.
Would I fight him? Would I run? Would I become so angry that I’d kill him as quickly as possible, or would I take him back to my shack and let Papa have him?
Too many options, not enough answers, and that bothers me more than anything else.
I go back to sipping on my drink and keep my eyes glued to the screen.
“You like soccer?”
I roll my eyes and don’t respond.
Clearly, the man that decided I wanted company also wants to have a conversation. And he’s not from around here; not if he calls football soccer.
I use the rungs of the stool to push myself up so that I’m standing and wave the bartender over. I steal a quick glance down at the shoes the pendejo next to me is wearing before I’m satisfied that I can leave this place with a clear head.
“What do I owe you?” I ask him when he stops in front of me.
“I got it,” the stranger says.
I grit my teeth.
Reaching into my bra, I pull out some pesos, toss them on the bar top and walk out. I can’t help but chuckle and shake my head when I hear who I assume is his girlfriend scream at him for “hitting on every pussy” he sees echoing behind me.
But unlike her, I don’t need a man to take care of me, and I sure as fuck don’t need any new friends.
