She tossed her ID at Kody and he slapped it against his chest. He glanced at it, and then handed it back, looking at me expectantly. I handed him my driver’s license.
“Thought you were leaving town?” he asked, glancing down before returning the thin plastic card to me.
“Long story,” I said, stuffing my license into my back pocket. My jeans were so tight I was amazed I could fit anything besides my ass back there.
Kody opened the oversize red door, and Raegan smiled sweetly. “Thanks, baby.”
“Love you. Be good.”
“I’m always good,” she said, winking.
“See you when I get off work?”
“Yep.” She pulled me through the door.
“You are the weirdest couple,” I said over the bass. It was buzzing in my chest, and I was fairly certain every beat made my bones shake.
“Yep,” Raegan said again.
The dance floor was already packed with sweaty, drunk college kids. The fall semester was in full swing. Raegan walked over to the bar and stood at the end. Jorie winked at her.
“Want me to clear you out some seats?” she asked.
Raegan shook her head. “You’re just offering because you want my tips from last night!”
Jorie laughed. Her long, platinum blond hair fell in loose waves past her shoulders, with a few black peekaboo strands. She wore a black minidress and combat boots, and was pushing buttons on the cash register to ring someone up while she talked to us. We had all learned to multitask and move like every tip was a hundred-dollar bill. If you could bartend fast enough, you stood a chance of working the east bar, and the tips made there could pay a month’s worth of bills in a weekend.
That was where I’d been tending bar for a year, placed just three months after I was hired at the Red Door. Raegan worked right beside me, and together we kept that machine greased like a stripper in a plastic pool full of baby oil. Jorie and the other bartender, Blia, worked the south bar at the entrance. It was basically a kiosk, and they loved it when Raegan or I were out of town.
“So? What are you drinking?” Jorie asked.
Raegan looked at me, and then back at Jorie. “Whiskey sours.”
I made a face. “Minus the sour, please.”
Once Jorie passed us our drinks, Raegan and I found an empty table and sat, shocked at our luck. Weekends were always packed, and an open table at ten thirty wasn’t common.
I held a brand-new pack of cigarettes in my hand and hit the end of it against my palm to pack them, then tore off the plastic, flipping the top. Even though the Red was so smoky that just sitting there made me feel like I was smoking an entire pack of cigarettes, it was nice to sit at a table and relax. When I was working, I usually had time for one drag and the rest burned away, unsmoked.
Raegan watched me light it. “I want one.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do!”
“You haven’t smoked in two months, Raegan. You’ll blame me tomorrow for ruining your streak.”
She gestured at the room. “I’m smoking! Right now!”
I narrowed my eyes at her. Raegan was exotically beautiful, with long, chestnut-brown hair, bronze skin, and honey-brown eyes. Her nose was perfectly small, not too round or too pointy, and her skin made her look like she came fresh off of a Neutrogena commercial. We met in elementary school, and I was instantly drawn to her brutal honesty. Raegan could be incredibly intimidating, even for Kody, who, at six foot four, was over a foot taller than she was. Her personality was charming to those she loved, and repellent to those she didn’t.
I was the opposite of exotic. My tousled brown bob and heavy bangs were easy to maintain, but not a lot of men found it sexy. Not a lot of men found me sexy in general. I was the girl next door, your brother’s best friend. Growing up with three brothers and our cousin Colin, I could have been a tomboy if my subtle but still present curves hadn’t ousted me from the boys-only clubhouse at fourteen.
“Don’t be that girl,” I said. “If you want one, go buy your own.”
She crossed her arms, pouting. “That’s why I quit. They’re f**king expensive.”
I stared at the burning paper and tobacco nestled between my fingers. “That is a fact my broke ass continues to make note of.”
The song switched from something everyone wanted to dance to, to a song no one wanted to dance to, and dozens of people began making their way off the dance floor. Two girls walked up to our table and traded glances.
“That’s our table,” the blonde said.
Raegan barely acknowledged them.
“Excuse me, bitch, she’s talking to you,” the brunette said, setting her beer on the table.
“Raegan,” I warned.
Raegan looked at me with a blank face, and then up at the girl with the same expression. “It was your table. Now it’s ours.”
“We were here first,” the blonde hissed.
“And now you’re not,” Raegan said. She picked up the unwelcome beer bottle and tossed it across the floor. It spilled out onto the dark, tightly stitched carpet. “Fetch.”
The brunette watched her beer slide across the floor, and then took a step toward Raegan, but her friend grabbed both of her arms. Raegan offered an unimpressed laugh, and then turned her gaze toward the dance floor. The brunette finally followed her friend to the bar.
I took a drag from my cigarette. “I thought we were going to have a good time tonight.”
“That was fun, right?”
I shook my head, stifling a smile. Raegan was a great friend, but I wouldn’t cross her. Growing up with so many boys in the house, I’d had enough fighting to last a lifetime. They didn’t baby me. If I didn’t fight back, they’d just fight dirtier until I did. And I always did.
Raegan didn’t have an excuse. She was just a scrappy bitch. “Oh, look. Megan’s here,” she said, pointing to the blue-eyed, crow-headed beauty on the dance floor. I shook my head. She was out there with Travis Maddox, basically getting screwed in front of everyone on the dance floor.
“Oh, those Maddox boys,” Raegan said.
“Yeah,” I said, downing my whiskey. “This was a bad idea. I’m not feeling clubby tonight.”
“Oh, stop.” Raegan gulped her whiskey sour and then stood. “The whine bags are still eyeing this table. I’m going to get us another round. You know the beginning of the night starts off slow.”