“Being that I don’t give a shit, I think you should shut your goddamn mouth.” I flash a bright smile at Becky as she slides a whiskey on our table. Her tits graze my arm as she leans over the table. “I’ve got the next round, Becky. Load up these assholes so I don’t have to listen to them anymore.”
“Ol’ Scrooge is prying open his bank vault tonight? Did someone swallow your dick on the way to the bar tonight?” Paxton eyes me over his glass but he points to Becky for another.
“Nah. This McArthur case is open and shut, and that means cash money, boys. That fucker better pay out quick.”
“You’re working the David McArthur divorce?” Becky gasps a little. “The director? Isn’t his wife some humanitarian? That’s you?”
“Of course. Who else do you think would be badass enough to take on that titan’s empire?” I spread my arms wide. “You really think there’s another lawyer with half the balls I’ve got anywhere in Los Angeles?”
“Uh, hello.” Paxton clears his throat. “My name is Paxton and I routinely kick your ass in court.”
“Shut the fuck up. Don’t listen to him, Becky. He’s criminal, I’m family. We only see each other in court when he’s crying in his shoes about losing another client to the system and I’m walking happy clients back out to their cars.” I throw my arm to wave him off a little too hard and knock into a busty blonde. “Oh shi—”
“Eric Stevens.” Her eyes narrow before I can fake an apology about getting her shirt damp. “I thought that was you.”
“I’m — sorry?” I look over to Paxton, but he’s got no fucking clue who she is either. However, when an opportunity presents itself… “Pardon me, miss. Can I buy you a drink to make up for ruining your very lovely shirt?”
“Fuck you.” She tosses her hair and storms off, shaking her ass with an extra pop. My head cocks sideways, watching her walk away, and someone swats me.
“Don’t worry, Becky. Your ass is nicer.” Really, I’d have to compare the two, but one should never insult the waitress with a heavy hand and a spotty memory.
“Always the charmer.” Becky laughs with a bite and leaves us.
“Rebecca.” Geoff leans over.
“Is your stage name?” Paxton and I fist bump.
“The girl? The blonde. Her name is Rebecca. You took her home last month, probably fucked her, and probably never called her back.”
I had no recollection of this whatsoever. “Probably.”
“What about that those two over there?” Paxton nods across the small bar to a pair of brunettes gesturing rapidly with wine glasses, telling some sort of animated story I didn’t care to follow.
“They look like your type.”
“All women are our types.” Paxton says, slamming his palm on the table. “Becky! Wine!”
Becky doesn’t look impressed when Paxton points to them, but I don’t need to wow her. A few loose compliments on a slow night and I could have that jealous frown wrapped around my cock in the bathroom in a hot minute. Becky is a hot back-up and these ladies are hot de novos. But for some reason, I’m not in the mood for any of them.
“Which one do you want?” Paxton asks. Geoff scoffs and busies himself in his phone, which is in his best interest if he doesn’t want me to knock him out. This is Man Hour, not toddler fucking playtime. “I kinda dig in the one in the red.”
I shrug.
The waitress feeds a bottle to the table before Paxton goes over to say hi. Generally the top priority is making sure they aren’t too drunk to cause trouble and are as hot as they look up close as they do far away. There is such a thing as Distant Hot.
“Ever think about acting like a decent human once in a while?” Geoff tosses out, still not looking up from his phone. “You know, being loyal and shit?”
“Loyal?” I roll my eyes and lay a heavy hand on his shoulder. He shrugs me off but I put it back with a tight squeeze. “Geoff, let me explain something to you. I bust my ass eighty to ninety hours a week while rich fucks in Hollywood divorce their arm-candy wives or their trophy husbands to go fuck the mailman for the rest of their fucked little lives. With me in the goddamn middle of their bullshit. Once a week, I let my dick loose. I earned that shit.”
Though I know that tonight my dick is staying in my pants, but Geoff doesn’t need to know that.
“Whatever.” Geoff slides out of the seat and throws a twenty on the table. “I’ll see you next week.”
“Whatever.” I shoot him the finger as he walks away and drain my glass.