by Izzy Sweet
“Shush,” I hiss at her and shoot a glance towards the bartender. Seriously, she’s going to get us tossed out before we even order our first drink.
The woman standing behind the counter gives us the stink eye and crosses her thin arms over her ginormous fake breasts. She’s got that awful bright red hair that’s so unnatural you just know it came out of a box. She probably does it in an attempt to look younger, but it only ages her. If I had to guess at her age, I’d put her in her mid to late thirties. Give or take a decade, depending on if she smokes or not.
Amanda’s not wrong. The place is indeed a dump, but it’s also the perfect hidey-hole for drinking and having a good time without it ending up in the gossip rags. As a group of girls that are always in the spotlight because of our famous fathers, we want to drink and have a good time without worrying about who could be watching.
Amanda just shrugs her shoulders, completely unapologetic. I sigh and drag our little group over to one of the few open tables that actually has stools.
“Seriously, who names their bar The River Waters?” Amanda goes on with a wrinkle in her nose as we each take a stool. “It’s almost like they don’t want anyone drinking here…”
Looking around the place, I don’t think the bar’s unfortunate name is what keeps most people from coming in. The lighting is dim and the air is thick and hazy with cigarette smoke. Apparently the no-smoking ban in public spaces the city passed a couple of years ago doesn’t apply here.
Heavy metal blasts from the back where a few unsavory looking fellows with long, dingy hair and bushy beards play pool and drink beer. If I’m not mistaken, the leather vests they wear declare they belong to some type of motorcycle club or biker gang. Hanging on the wood paneled walls are posters of half-naked women with enormous fake breasts that are so old they’re covered in dust and a film of brown.
This place is in a desperate need of a good scrubbing from top to bottom.
Setting my purse down, it seems to stick to the table and I change my mind. This place is definitely in need of a fire. They should just probably burn it down and start all over again.
“I don’t want to be drinking here,” Lindsey whines unhappily and flips her blonde hair over her shoulder before shooting me a glare.
You’d think after all the pre-partying we did back at Sophia’s condo that she’d loosen up enough to pull the stick out of her ass. But then again, her father is one of the richest real estate investors in Garden City, and she’s used to all the glitz and glamor money can buy.
I sigh again and start to wonder if maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all…
But then Sophia seems to bristle, taking Lindsey’s glare personally. “Oh shut up, Lindsey. You’re such a fucking snob.”
Lindsey sniffs and begins to shrink under Sophia’s hard look like someone just sucked the air out of her.
“I don’t see why we couldn’t just drink back at our place,” she whines softer now. Looking down at the table, she makes a face of disgust as she watches me try to free my now stuck purse. “At least there we won’t catch any incurable diseases.”
Sophia rolls her eyes hard and shakes her head, her blonde curls bouncing around her heart-shaped face. “We always party at our place. It’s boring.”
Amanda’s green eyes light up. “I know a few guys—“
She doesn’t get to finish before Sophia cuts her off. “No, dammit. We already talked about this.” She shoots me a can-you-believe-these-idiots look before going on. “You know we can’t have anything showing up on social media. If Beth’s father finds out she was out partying, he’ll lock her up and throw away the key.”
Ugh. Just hearing that said out loud is enough to kill the buzz I had going on. Both Amanda and Lindsey look at me sympathetically, and I couldn’t feel more like a loser if I tried.
Yeah, I’m sheltered and my father is way overbearing. It’s his way or his way, there’s no arguing.
You see my father is Senator Richard Norton, and to him appearances are everything. His career and his connections depend upon it. He’s planned every aspect of my life, from the schools I’ve attended, to the hobbies I enjoy, to the friends I keep, and even the guys I date.
And God help me if I try to defy him.
In the past, he hasn’t been above locking me in my room and withholding food until I give in.
“Look around, ladies,” Sophia goes on. She’s the sober one of the group, acting tonight as our designated driver. “No one here knows who we are. No one gives a shit.”
“I think that guy over there gives a shit.” Lindsey shudders, and we all follow her line of sight to the man sitting at the bar.
He’s huge and intimidating, his large body looking as if it needs two stools rather than the one he’s sitting on. With his head of dirty blonde hair, bushy beard, tattoos, worn jeans, and black t-shirt, he looks exactly like the type of guy you’d find in a place like this.
My eyes meet his for the briefest of moments and I feel this strange jolt before looking away.
Lindsey shudders dramatically. “He’s probably casing us. Sizing us up for how much we’re worth.”
“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Sophia groans and then glances at the guy. She looks thoughtful for a moment then says, “Just hold on to your purse.”
Speaking of purses, I give mine one last hard tug and it peels away from the table, leaving a swath of designer logo covered fabric behind.
“Great,” I mutter, and inspect the damage done to the purse my father gifted me for my birthday. The entire middle of the bottom has been ripped off.
“Oh, that sucks,” Lindsey says, sounding just a little too cheerful to my ears.
I shoot her a dirty look, but before I can say anything nasty, Sophia jumps in. “Drinks. We need drinks.”
She jumps up from her stool and grabs me by the arm, dragging me off of my own stool before I know what’s happening. “What does a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?”
Dragging me up to the bar with her, she mutters, “Just ignore them. They’ll loosen up once we get a few drinks in them.”
Maybe, or maybe not, I think to myself. Lindsey has always been the stick-in-the-mud of our little group. I don’t think I can remember a single time we’ve gone somewhere and she didn’t complain about something. It’s almost like she just has to find something wrong.
Amanda, on the other hand, tends to loosen up a little too much when she gets a couple of drinks in her. I wouldn’t be surprised if we have to pull her off a table before the night is over.
Sophia flashes a bright smile at Mr. Tall, Dark, and Intimidating, before turning that smile on the bartender.
“I’d like four cosmos please,” she orders sweetly, turning on her charm.
“We don’t serve those kind of drinks here, honey,” the bartender responds with a contemptuous smirk.
Mr. Intimidating snorts and takes a big drink from his beer.
Sophia’s eyes flick towards him then back to the bartender and her smile tightens. “Alright, then we’ll have four vodka cranberries.”
The bartender shakes her head and I can’t help but be amazed that her hair barely moves. “We don’t serve those either.”
Sophia scowls. “Rum and cokes?”
The bartender’s burgundy lips peel back in a sneer. “Nope.”
“What do you serve then?” Sophia groans.
The bartender opens her mouth, probably to brush us off again in hopes of getting us to leave, but then Mr. Intimidating speaks up. “Whiskey, beer, and tequila. Take your pick.”
He looks directly at me then and I feel that jolt again. Butterflies take flight in my stomach, and as if he can see it, his lips slowly curl into a smirk.
“That’s it?” Sophia asks with disbelief.
“That’s it,” Mr. Intimidating grunts, tearing his gaze away from me to look to her then back down at his beer and plate.
My face flushes with heat and finally I feel like I can breathe again.<
br />
I must be really drunk if I’m starting to feel a connection with a guy like him. He might as well have bad news tattooed right on his forehead.
Sophia looks over at me and I’m so ready to go. I’m ready to bolt like a startled rabbit.
“Sophia…” I say, but she turns back to the bartender, ignoring me. “Tequila it is!”
Oh god, I groan inwardly. I just know this isn’t going to end well. I know Sophia wants to have a girl’s night out because we haven’t had one in over a year, but I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this, and it’s not just because of the crummy place we’re in.
There’s just this dark cloud hanging over my head. A sense of dread and foreboding floating around in the back of my brain.
It could be because we haven’t been here for more than two minutes, and Amanda and Lindsey are already complaining. Or it could be because the last time my father caught me out by having his goon hack into my Snapchat, he withdrew me from college and forced me to move back home.
His reasoning was that if I’m going to act like a whore with no care for the wholesome image he’s built, then I don’t deserve the money he’s worked so hard for.
Now I’m trapped at home, under pretty much 24-hour surveillance, and I have a weekly allowance that he completely controls.
The only reason I’m even out tonight is because he had a trip to DC suddenly sprung on him at the last minute and he didn’t have enough time to tell his goons to keep me locked in.
The bartender shoots Mr. Intimidating a look as if she needs his approval before she pours the shots. He looks up from his plate of food long enough to nod his head at her.
With a sigh and a mutter, the bartender turns around and grabs a dusty bottle of tequila off the bottom shelf.
“Not that one, Missy,” Mr. Intimidating growls, his head popping up. “Grab the one off the top shelf.”
The bartender shoots him a startled look, but he just stares at her as if there will be no arguments. With a curse, she turns back around and slams the bottle back down on the shelf causing a small cloud of dust to puff up.
Sophia smirks triumphantly as the bartender grabs a bottle of silver tequila off the top shelf and turns back, pouring our shots.
“That will be forty dollars,” Missy says expectantly and cocks her hip.
Sophia just rolls her eyes and digs around in her purse. After a moment, she pulls out three bills and slaps them down on the table.
The bartender quickly grabs up the cash, counts it, and proceeds to stuff it down her bra.
“Hey…” Sophia says to Mr. Intimidating just as I reach for two of the shots.
“Yeah?” he grunts, glancing up.
“I didn’t catch your name? I’m Sophia and my friend here is Beth.” She sticks out her hand and he looks at it as if it will bite him or something.
“Johnathan,” he says and looks towards me. Once again, there’s that little jolt and I feel a little breathless.
Now that we’re closer, and I can get a really good look at him, he seems even bigger than he did from afar.
With a start, I realize his face is actually quite handsome.
With his beard and ruffled hair, there’s a rough, untamed gruffness to him that I’m not used to seeing on a daily basis. Most of the men in my life are clean-shaven, sharply dressed, and polished to the point that they’re almost girlish.
This guy, though, there’s nothing polished about him. He’s rough and gruff all over.
My father would hate him. He’d probably have me committed if he found out I was even near a guy like him.
“Nice to meet you, Johnathan,” Sophia says and drops her hand once she realizes he isn’t going to shake it.
Johnathan nods his head and starts to turn away from us.
“Hey, Johnathan,” Sophia says, pulling his attention back.
Johnathan arches a brow at her.
Sophia smiles and says sweetly, “May we borrow your salt?”
“Sure,” Johnathan says and slides the shaker of salt that was next to his plate over to us.
“Thank you, Johnathan,” Sophia says, her smile growing even wider.
He grunts and his eyes slide back to mine, lingering. I swear it’s a force of will for me to turn away.
Picking up our shots and newly acquired salt shaker, we start to carry it all back to Lindsey and Amanda.
“He’s totally into you,” Sophia giggles as we walk.
I cast a glance over my shoulder and sure enough Johnathan’s eyes are locked on me. I can feel his eyes on my ass, searing me with heat.
I shake my head. “My father would have an aneurism if I hooked up with a guy like that.”
“That’s why you should totally do it!” Sophia says, her eyes lighting up.
“I can’t,” I protest with a laugh. “I’m still in deep shit from the last time we went out.”
Sophia’s face sobers and she comes to a sudden stop. “You know I worry about you. It’s not… healthy for your father to keep you locked up.”
The dark cloud over my head seems to swell and grow bigger, and I force a smile in an attempt to block it out. “It’s only temporary. He’ll get over it eventually…”
Sophia looks me in the eye and says, “You know you can move in with me. You’re a grown woman, you don’t have to put up with this shit.”
I know she means well, and I know she is being completely sincere. She is worried. She’s always worried about me. She’s my best friend and she’s been looking out for me since we were in Kindergarten. But even she doesn’t know the full extent of my father’s control.
Over the years, since my mother passed, it’s only grown worse.
I shake my head. “You know I can’t.”
I can’t because my father wouldn’t let me get away that easily, and helping me would only cause trouble for her. Her father might be the Chief of Police in Garden City, but even he isn’t untouchable.
Sophia continues to look me long and hard in the eyes, but I stand my ground. I’d never do anything to put her in jeopardy. She means too much to me. And this shit with my father is my problem. I’ll figure a different way out. Even if I have to marry the sleazy son of one of his political allies, I’ll find a way to get myself out from under his thumb.
“Fine,” she finally gives in with a sigh. “Have it your way, but tonight I’m going to make sure you have some fun.”
“Fun sounds good,” I smile at her and we start walking again.
“Took you long enough,” Lindsey says with pout.
Sophia rolls her eyes as she sets two shots and the shaker down on the table. “We were getting friendly with the locals.”
Amanda shoots a look over her shoulder at the bar. “They don’t look very friendly…”
Sophia pushes the two shots she carried over towards Amanda and Lindsey. “Have a drink and loosen up. We’re here to have fun, ladies!”
Amanda and Lindsey pick up their little glasses, throw back their shots, and immediately start to grumble about how harsh the tequila is.
Picking up the salt shaker, I can’t help but glance towards the bar. There’s like some invisible cord that keeps tugging me in that direction.
Johnathan is still there, turned towards me now with his beer gripped in his big hand. I lick my hand between my thumb and forefinger and see his eyes flash with heat as he watches my tongue come out of my mouth.
Fun, yeah, we’re here for fun. I throw my shot back and feel the tequila burn its way down my throat.
I should probably take Sophia’s advice and loosen up a little, I think as I lower my now empty shot glass.
Sophia pushes the fourth shot towards me with a twinkle in her eye and a smirk.
Yeah, she’s totally trying to get me drunk.
3
Johnathan
It’s fucking hot as balls in this fucking sweatbox of a city. I could use a good nap, a bottle of cold tequila, and a hot pussy snuggled right up against my leg just humping it in ant
icipation.
But that’s not how shit works now.
Maybe in the bygone days of being in the family, but with the ever-present war going on, it’s work, work, and death.
I’ve taken on a lot of shit jobs over the last year. Ever since Lucifer, my boss, took Lilith to be his lovely bride, it’s been one fire after the other we either have to put out or start. Shit, the Yakuza getting kicked the fuck out of Garden city was a monumental fucking task. That the Russians are now trying to claim their territory as their own is making things quite explosive.
I often question if Lucifer would have taken the woman if he had known the shit path it would lead us down.
When I think of war, though, I imagine trenches dug out, lines drawn on some arbitrary map, bullets and grenades flying all over the place.
Not this land grab of property and back room deals with lawyers and politicians.
Sure, there’s enough death going on to keep the Reaper himself busy, but I’m not good at the political shit that Lucifer seems to thrive at. He’s been putting blockades around every empty storefront he can that the Russians could possibly be interested in.
If he doesn’t buy ‘em, the fucking Italians do.
The fucking Italians… What the fuck should I say about those damn bastards? They sure as fuck have paid us back with interest when it comes to being our allies. Ever since we started giving them real estate at the docks, and then the formerly controlled Yakuza areas, they have been at our beck and call.
Yeah, they’re helpful all right, but it comes at a cost.
If you ask me, a fucking big one.
We have to be the big brother who fucking protects ‘em. Like last night, I had to be the backup for one of their big deals. They shipped some grade A weapons from our docks out to Ohio, where they’ve been fucking around with the Irish.
It seems to me, for a good while, all the big power houses like the Italians, the Irish, the Russians, the Yakuza, and Lucifer’s group in Garden City, have been busting our heads against a wall fighting with each other. It makes me wonder if an actual widespread war will start up like it did back in the forties.