“Welcome to my home away from home,” says Colin, taking a big swig of his beer.
I look around in disgust. “You can do better, Colin. Seriously. Ew.”
Mick leans over and says, “Don’t be so stuck up.”
My jaw drops open and I stare at him. How rude.
“What?” he asks, all innocence.
“You just called me stuck up!”
“So? You act like you can’t have a good time in a dive bar.” He shrugs, completely not caring that he just used break-up words with me. He’s so lucky he’s not my boyfriend.
I snort. “Sha. Right. I could have a good time anywhere. I could have a good time in a garbage dump.” Good work, Quin. That was sexy. I battle not to roll my eyes at my own self. I am so losing my touch.
“Sounds interesting,” Mick says, just before taking a long swig of his drink.
“Are you supposed to be drinking while you’re on that pain medication?” I’m going to go ahead and forgive him for calling me stuck up. He’s definitely on drugs.
“Probably not.” He takes another swig and nods at someone across the room.
I look over to the same spot and see a girl standing there who forgot to tuck her boobs into her shirt before she left the house this morning. She’s giving Mick one of those bring-your-dick-over-here looks, but he’s not moving.
I have to admire his ability to play hard to get. She’s not the ugliest girl in the world and she is pretty much offering up, at the very least, a titty fuck with that get-up she’s wearing. I’m pretty sure she’ll be happy to do it in the bathroom too; he wouldn’t even need to go outside first.
I groan inwardly as her stance shifts and her expression goes first to frustrated and then to determined. This chick is about to give in and break the number one rule of bar flirting: Never ever be the one to come over. I shake my head as she starts to move in our direction. Dumb ho.
“So what happened at the meeting?” Colin asks. He puts his empty mug down on the bar and signals the bartender for another. I still haven’t taken a single sip of mine. I have an issue with beer for brunch, I guess, but at least I have something to do with my hands, which is better than slapping stupid faces of bimbo girls. Hannah Hootersville is here now, running her fingers all over Mick’s chest as she talks softly to him and smiles like a dingbat.
I can’t take any more of it. Ten seconds and I’m ready to snap. “Are you blind?” I ask her leaning over and saying it loud enough so that Mick and Colin can hear too.
She frowns at me, all her flirting happiness disappearing like a puff of smoke. Her hand freezes on Mick’s boob. “No.”
“Oh.” I shrug, looking around all casual, acting like I didn’t just pull the pin and drop an insult grenade on her head.
“Why would you ask that? Do I look blind?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess it was the way you were reading Mick’s chest like he had braille all over it or something. My bad.” I give her a tight smile and then go back to facing Colin. “So, yeah, it was terrible …”
Before I can get any more of my story out, something hits me in the shoulder.
My eyes bug out as I turn to see what the hell is going on. Hannah Hootersville is standing there, ready for a fight, her legs spread a little apart and her small hands fisted at her sides.
“Did you just hit me?” I cannot believe this girl would be so stupid.
“Yeah, I just hit you.” She flips her dried-out, scraggly, fake-blond hair over her shoulder and sticks her flubbery chest out. “What are you going to do about it?”
I shrug before shoving my beer into Colin’s chest. “One word.” My fist flies out and pops her in the chest. “Boob punch!” My hand sinks in about six inches before coming into contact with her ribs. Good thing silicon boobies are tough.
She bends over, grasping at her chest with both arms. “That’s two words, you bitch!” she squeals.
“Whatever!” I yell back, taking a step towards her as she backs up.
Colin jumps in front of me, blocking my progress. Mick reverses away from our little group, holding onto his stomach.
I immediately feel awful as I see the scene unfolding around me. I forget the girl completely. “Holy shit, Mick, I forgot about your stomach. Are you okay? How’s your spleen?” I come towards him with my hands held out.
He continues to back away, his hands held up in a defensive position. “I don’t have a spleen anymore, remember?” He half laughs, but it sounds like it’s laced with pain. “Just keep those weapons away from me right now, okay? I just got out of the hospital, and I don’t want to go back in anytime soon.”