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He shakes his head. "No," he says while pointing to me. "He is. The only thing I want is some whiskey if you have it."
I glance at my watch again. Lou-Lou's definitely back home now. "When will she be here?" I ask Shane.
He looks at the clock on the wall. "In about 20 minutes. But if you're looking for a quick screw, trust me...she's not it," he says before turning to a different set of customers.
Images of Lou-Lou with DeLuca flash through my head.
"If she's hot, I'll have no problem giving her a long and slow screw," I say under my breath.
Jesus, I need a fucking drink. I need to stop thinking about her. I look at Shane and gesture to Jackson's drink, letting him know I'll have the same.
Tyrone looks at me and shakes his head. "I already told you, man. You can screw as many women as you want. It's not going to keep your mind off of Lou-Lou. Just talk to her."
"Drop it," I bark, because Lou-Lou and I have absolutely nothing to talk about.
Jackson finishes his drink and puts money on the bar. "Ready to go?"
Hell no. I'm not going back to the apartment right now. Not without a distraction at least.
It's clear tonight's not going to end with me bringing home pussy...but I'll be damned if it's not going to end with me being three-sheets to the fucking wind.
It will be hard to think about her if I'm passed out drunk.
I shrug."Nah. We're here now. We might as well stay awhile."
I swirl the amber liquid around my glass and down it. "We came here to drink our troubles away anyway."
Jackson clicks his empty glass against mine. "I'll drink to that."
Three games of darts and five rounds later we walk back to the bar for another round.
Or in Jackson's case....stumble because instead of just having one shot of 151 like Tyrone and me. The fucker slammed three shots of 151.
Worst part is? Jackson doesn't ever drink.
I've got a heavy buzz going on, but it's not enough. She's still at the forefront of my mind and I fucking hate it.
The bar's semi-crowded now, so we're forced to take the last three seats at the end of the bar.
My eyes immediately zone in on what looks like an almost exact replica of Lou-Lou. At least from the back it does.
My dick twitches for the first time in fucking ever as I take in her long, dark, shiny hair and mini skirt.
When she bends over the large cooler, her skirt rises and my mind flashes back to every single time Lou-Lou would raise her perfect little ass in the air for me before I'd take her hard and deep from behind.
I bring my knuckle to my mouth and bite it. "Fuck me that's hot."
I'm brought out of my haze when I notice Tyrone shaking his head while looking down at his lap. "My dick belongs to Shelby. This is Shelby's dick," he chants to himself.
What the actual fuck?
Jackson and I burst out laughing. It's probably the alcohol, but it feels fucking good to laugh again after months of nothing but non-stop heartache.
"Goddamn, man," Jackson says to Tyrone, clearly unaware of the way his words are starting to slur.
I decide to have another look at the brunette. I quickly realize it's not Lou-Lou's twin after all due to the 2-3 inch height difference.
"How can you ignore that?" Jackson continues. "Even I'm looking at her."
It's at that moment the brunette bartender turns around and I feel myself instantly sober up.
Fuck me. Forget the hair...what the hell is Alyssa Ta
I can't focus on that, though because Jackson's still rambling on and on in his drunken stupor.
Shit.
He points in her direction and ignores my tap on his shoulder.
"I mean, she sure as fuck is putting it all out there," he declares to the entire bar while I debate the pros and cons of knocking his lights out so he stops talking. "She's obviously looking for attention and a good time."
That's when he turns to me. I shake my head at him and give him a warning glance.
Shut up, brother. For the love of God...just shut up.
Sir-drinks-a-lot proceeds to ignore both my head shake and my warning glance and says, "Looks like you found your quick fuck after all. I bet you won't even have to take her home to get it."
Before Tyrone and I can stop him, he swipes his hand in the air. "Hey, hot stuff," he calls out. "Thanks for the free show. But can I get another glass of whiskey?"
No, the fuck you can't.
Tyrone and I look at Alyssa and shake our heads, letting her know he's officially cut off.
When Jackson turns his head and finally faces her, his eyes open wide.
He turns to Tyrone. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"
Tyrone puts a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, brother. And I think it's time to get you home." He casts a sympathetic glance at Alyssa. "Look, he's really drunk right now. He doesn't know what he's saying."
I nod. "It's true, Alyssa. He's not exactly himself at the moment."
Despite Tyrone and I coming to his defense, she's understandably still pissed.
When she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him, Jackson lets out a groan.
Tyrone and I exchange a glance and nod. It's definitely time to call it a night.
Jackson puts one arm around me and the other around Tyrone and we all stand up. But bigmouth's not done yet. "You guys better get me home before her FBI—sugar daddy... and I do mean daddy because he's old enough to be her daddy...arrests me," Jackson yells.
"Fuck," I mutter, knowing exactly what FBI agent he's referring to.
"Bro...shut up," Tyrone yells.
I notice Alyssa reach for the glass of whiskey beside her and I know exactly what's going to happen. I could warn Jackson...but in all honesty? He deserves it.
Before he knows what hit him, the glass of whiskey is thrown in his face and Alyssa storms off.
We lug a nearly passed out Jackson through the front door of his apartment.
"Dammit, Jackson," Tyrone mutters. "No more of Momma's food for you. It was hell on earth dragging your drunk ass up all them steps."
Jackson hangs his head and begins snoring.
"Looks like he's sleeping in your bed tonight," I inform Tyrone. "Set an alarm and make sure to check on him every half hour."
"Awe, hell," Tyrone says. He leans over Jackson's ear. "Ya hear that, drunkie? I'm the one who gets punished because you can't hold your liquor worth a damn."
I roll my eyes. "If you don't want to do it we can bring him over to my apartment and I'll take care of him."
"It's not that." He looks sheepish. "It's just—Jackson likes to cuddle in his sleep."
At that, Jackson snorts and mumbles something neither of us can decipher before slurring, "I'm big spoon."
Tyrone makes a face and I burst out laughing for the second time that night as we haul him face down on Tyrone's bed.
I grab a pot in case he needs to puke and put a cool washcloth on his head. Tyrone walks in a moment later with a bottle of water and we sit him up so he can take a few sips.
His eyes are droopy and he begins swaying. "I love you, guys."