Chapitre 42: Bottoms Up
I had never been to a bar before.
I went to all those "family bars"—Applebee's, Buffalo Wild Wings, etc—occasionally during my youth, and they sold beer. Probably didn't count, though.
Several different expectations warred for dominance in my mind—dark and scary? Bustling and loud? Quiet and full of burly bikers?
Devon came and picked me up shortly before nine with another man in tow—Richard, one of his friends from his previous department. Introductions were exchanged and then we were off to their "favorite place."
They chatted away in the front while I sat in the back and tried to swallow the butterflies.
At least, thanks to Mom, I didn't have to worry about my outfit. She'd told me whatever casual wear I like would be fine.
Don't know why I had been so worried.
Maybe because I didn't own any formal clothes besides work stuff.
It had been ages since I'd felt so out of my element, but it was also about time I gave up on my solitary life. Maybe Wolf would take me, maybe he wouldn't.
If he did, I didn't want to have any regrets. I didn't want to regret never experiencing things that normal humans did; getting black-out drunk or going to a bar, seeing movies with friends, or just having a good time in general.
If Wolf wouldn't accept me as I was now, then I couldn't very well burn all my bridges on Earth or else my life would be miserable.
What if he came and I decided not to go with him? What if I chickened out and wanted to stay on Earth? What if he didn't like my limp?
There were too many variables.
"Here we are!" Devon announced suddenly, pulling into the tiny parking lot beside a building. "We go here every other Friday, just in time for the paychecks."
"Sounds like a fun tradition," I remarked.
The brick face of the building was worn-down and a large sign overhead read "Beer." Hard to miss. Devon pulled into a spot and the three of us unloaded.
"Designated driver?" I was barely out of the vehicle before I brought it up.
Devon made a dismissive noise and said, "I'll be driving the two of you home. Don't worry, I know how much I can drink before things start getting dangerous."
My eyes narrowed, and I slammed the door shut. "Everyone always says that and that's how people die in drunk driving accidents."
Richard shook his head. "Don't worry. When you drink as often as we do, you learn your limits," he said with an equally dismissive tone as Devon had.
"You're federal agents, you should behave as such and use a designated driver." I sniffed and put my hands on my hips, refusing to move forward.
"Yeesh, where did you find this chick again?" Richard teased, elbowing Devon.
He chuckled. "Ah, lay off my partner. She doesn't get out often."
"I'm right here," I growled. I hated being talked about like I wasn't there.
Devon put a hand on my shoulder and steered me toward the front of the building. "Don't worry! We'll be fine. Would I lie to you?"
Only partially convinced, I made a mental note to walk home or call a taxi.
After another moment of studying their confident expressions, I said, "Whatever you say, Devon. Don't kill me."
"Trust your partner." Richard grinned, nudging me with his elbow. "I know I do!"
He was the sole reason the "jolly fat man" stereotype existed. The only thing he was missing was a thick beard. As it was, all he had was a well-groomed goatee.
I shot him a look, but he wasn't paying attention. I brushed off my arm where he'd touched me and grumbled to myself.
Devon held my arm and pulled me back a few paces while the other guy hurried up the sidewalk. He gave me a reassuring smile and I gently tugged my arm out of his grasp.
"Just lemme know when you wanna leave. I'll either take you home or pay for your cab," he offered, speaking in undertones.
His gesture made me smile and I nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."
Richard stopped at the door and glanced over at us. "What are you guys waiting for? An open invitation from God himself? Stop making out and get in here!"
Richard was not making a good first impression.
Nonetheless, Devon and I hurried to follow him inside. My partner shot me an apologetic eye-roll and smile once Richard had his back turned.
The front windows were painted with colorful letters that's read "Dumpty's" and had a drawing of Humpty Dumpty underneath holding a beer mug.
When I stepped over the threshold, I was expecting a scene straight from /Coyote Ugly/—a hundred bodies all crammed into a tiny space, music blasting through the bar, and scantily-clad women dancing on the counter.
I expected to wrestle my way to the front, shoulder-to-shoulder against sweaty men drunk off their asses. At some point, a bar fight would break out and I'd have to punch someone in the nose.
That was not the case. Far from it.
Well, the bar fight was still a possibility.
Though not empty, there certainly wasn't a hundred people inside. Maybe thirty. They were all in their own corners, in booths, or alone watching one of the large flat-screen TVs mounted near the ceiling.
The interior was modern with sleek surfaces and clean floors, even a few arcade games pushed against the wall near the entrance. Various paintings decorated the walls, but it wasn't cluttered.
A single pool table sat isolated in the middle of the room, surrounded by small, circular stands. Dart boards hung out on their own wall with a few people gathered around.
"So, what? Do we pick a table and wait, or sit at the bar?" I asked.
Despite the occasional bursts of laughter and quiet rock music playing over the various speakers, it was only loud enough that I had to speak above "inside voice" to be heard.
Richard walked ahead toward the front bar and I watched him helplessly, looking to Devon for answers. I was unsure of myself for the first time in years.
He put a hand on my shoulder and stepped up close so he could speak to me without trouble. "Lucas is waiting at the bar for us. We'll order there, and then we'll take our drinks over to a table. Just remember to tip well—you brought some cash, right?"
"Yeah, you told me to grab some, so I did. Why?"
"Just easier. Can't spend what you don't have. First drink's on me, though," he offered, allowing me to sit on the stool while he hovered behind me.
Richard slapped my partner's shoulder and guffawed. "You hear that? Devon's buying the first round!"
"Alright, Devon!" Lucas said. He worked on our forensics team.
Devon snorted and shoved Richard away. "Not for you assholes. This is Nichole's first bar experience, so it's a treat for her."
"That's really not necessary," I chimed in, trying not to blush.
"Man, she shouldn't have to buy drinks at all. Nichole, unbutton your shirt and show a little skin. You'll have them throwing drinks at you!" Richard said, grinning wolfishly. "Try to look a little available, you know?"
I didn't know him well enough to appreciate his brand of humor and I had to suppress the urge to pop him in the jaw.
"Hey leave her alone," Devon said, shifting so he was between me and Richard. "She was made unavailable the second she walked in with the three of us."
"True 'nuff." Lucas was leaning over the counter, looking for a bartender.
Rolling my eyes, decided to get the topic off how 'available' I was. "Hello? Can someone tell me what I should be ordering or something?"
"Shot of whiskey."
"Rum and coke!"
Maybe tagging along hadn't been such a good idea, after all.
I sighed heavily and rubbed my forehead. "Should I just order a beer?"
Shaking his head, Devon said, "You won't like it, no one likes their first beer. The alcohol itself isn't going to taste good no matter how you spin it, so be ready for a weird aftertaste."
I nodded. "Makes sense."
"Ideally, you should get a cocktail, but it's traditional for your first drink to be a shot, like Lucas said. We'll see where we're at from there, but you can't go wrong with a margarita," Devon finished.
"So, a shot of whiskey then?"
"That's what I recommend," Lucas chimed in. He had finally been able to flag down a bartender.
"Evening, folks." He was wearing a dark, collared shirt. White letters sewn onto the breast informed us of his name: Jared. "What can I get you?"
Richard slapped some cash on the counter. The bartender didn't blink and I experienced the overwhelming urge to apologize on my companion's behalf.
"I'll take a Corona, if you please. Keep the change, hombre."
The bartender nodded and turned to Lucas without writing anything down. "And you, boss?"
"Just give me a bottle of whiskey and a glass." He also slid a few bills across the counter.
He seemed to think about something a moment, then shook his head. "No, two, actually. Glasses, I mean. Not bottles. One bottle, two glasses."
Jared nodded and turned to me and Devon.
"First, I'd like two shots of whiskey, please. Then, she'll have a margarita and I'll just take some Miller, if you got it."
His attention turned to me and my face paled. He said, "On the rocks, frozen, or straight?"
My mouth bobbed and I turned helplessly toward Devon, my eyes wide. "Um—I don't—what's the difference?"
Devon explained. "On the rocks is with ice, frozen is . . . kind of like a slushee, and straight is without ice. I would either get it on the rocks or frozen, if I were you. Doesn't seem right, having a margarita without ice."
There were too many options.
I shook my head and turned my bewildered gaze to Jared who was patiently waiting. "Um, I guess frozen? I like slushies . . ."
He nodded and took Devon's money for the shots and his beer. I could have insisted I pay for myself, but what was the point of going to a bar if I didn't accept one free drink?
Jared counted out the cash and then I added an extra fiver as a an extra tip. Though here tried to give Devon change, he told him to keep it.
"Thank you," I said, almost in afterthought as the bartender turned away.
Jared shot me a smile before ducking beneath the counter.
Turning to Lucas, Richard asked, "Who's the second glass for? Is Rebecca joining us tonight?"
Lucas nodded. "Yeah, she gets off work late tonight, but she should be here in like," he paused to check his phone, "half an hour or something."
"Rebecca is your . . . girlfriend?" I asked.
"Wife," he said, smiling and raising his left hand to show the golden band.
"Ah, sorry."
The bartender popped back up with a set of shot glasses, Devon's Miller, and a bottle of Corona for Richard. He poured us each the shots and left a new bottle of whiskey for Lucas before disappearing to make my margarita.
I stared at the tiny glass in front of me, scrutinizing it as if it were on fire. "So, what am I supposed do?"
"Like this," Lucas snickered, picking up his shot and downing it in one gulp, complete with the head toss I recognized from movies.
He set the glass back down with a thump and grit his teeth. "Ooh that burns—first one's outta the way."
Devon raised his shot
and motioned toward mine. "We'll do it together."
"Okay," I sighed, rubbing my fingers against each other before picking it up.
Watching Devon for cues, I lifted my glass when he did and gulped down the shot a few seconds later. The aftertaste was bitter, and I could feel it as much as I tasted it.
I coughed and pushed the shot glass away, squinting and wheezing. My throat was warm.
"Oh my god what is that." I pressed my knuckles against my lips.
Laughing, Devon shook his head. He coughed once before saying, "That's the alcohol. Don't worry, your margarita won't be as bad."
The traces of liquor remained at the back of my throat for several more moments and I smacked my lips, trying to make it go away.
"Why the hell do people do this all the time? It wasn't very good at all—no offense to you." I noticed Jared in time to add the second thought.
He handed me a frosted glass with off-green, crushed ice. Salt rimmed the side. "It's an acquired taste," he said with a shrug.
Then, he left us to attend to other customers and we abandoned the bar, moving instead toward an isolated booth where we could socialize. Or whatever it was people did when they were trying to get drunk.
I sat in the corner with Devon next me, though I had to scoot over to the wall when he sat too close.
"You guys come here every other Friday?" I asked, staring at my margarita before plucking the lime wedge from the glass.
Richard shrugged. "Sometimes we rotate to a different place. Keep things fresh."
"Drinking's a little too expensive for a weekly thing, so we do it on payday instead," said Lucas.
"Right. That's what Devon said."
Devon nodded and added, "Sometimes we just go to a 24-hour joint for late dinners."
Finally, I attempted a sip of the margarita. My teeth crunched the crushed ice and I shuddered from the cold. The taste of alcohol made me cough. Still better than the shot of tequila, by a margin.
After a bit more of it, my face felt like rubber. I gently pat my cheeks, then ate a mouthful of green slush.
/Salty. Tangy. Not half bad./
Devon leaned toward me. "Did you eat before we picked you up like I said?"
"Yeah . . . a sandwich." I took another sample of my drink and shuddered when I swallowed too much and icy pain shot through my poor brain.
"Do you live exclusively off sandwiches?" he chuckled.
"No!" I pressed the heel of my palm against my temple and clenched my eyes shut, using my free hand to slap at Devon's shoulder. I missed.
"Ugh . . . brain freeze."
"Push your thumb against the roof of your mouth. That'll make you feel better," Lucas said, pouring himself another shot of whiskey before gulping it down in one swig.
He gasped and shook his head. "Burns so good."
"I'm not sticking my finger in my mouth," I snorted.
"It'll help."
"I won't!"
The two other men snickered and Devon grimaced. "How long ago did you eat?" he asked.
Shrugging, I wiped some of the salt off with my finger and, contrary to what I'd said before, stuck it in my mouth.
Immediate regret.
I gagged and took a drink of the margarita to chase the salt down. Richard guffawed at my expression and slapped his palm on the counter. Lucas was hiding snickers behind his hand.
"How long ago did you eat?" Devon asked again, frowning.
"An hour ago? Two hours ago? When I got home from work." I shot everyone a glare, daring them to keep laughing.
They did.
A fork sat before each of us, next to a spoon and on top of a napkin. It would be easy. Just pick up the fork, slam it into someone's hand . . .
Wait. Why was I thinking like that?
Devon sighed. "That's too long—you can't drink alcohol on an empty stomach."
"Don't tell me what to do."
He'd get the fork, too.
No, no. I couldn't fork my partner.
For another moment he stared at me, lips pursed, then turned in his chair to look at the front counter. "I'm gonna go get her some food."
"Alright," Richard said, finishing off his drink. "Bring me back another beer, would you?"
Lucas filled his shot glass and passed it over in front of me. Meanwhile, Richard gave Devon the cash for his drink and my partner left.
"You want another shot?" Lucas bated, passing a shot glass in front of me.
I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. "No."
"Suit yourself." He shrugged and took it himself.
Devon returned and I glared at him. "Where's my fries?"
"They're coming, relax," he teased. He handed Richard a new bottle of beer and was given some change in return.
I tilted my head back and shook the rest of the margarita into my mouth. It gave me another brain freeze, but fuck it.
My drink was gone. I had to fix that.
"Can I get another? Do they have pee-nya coll-adas here?" I asked, peering toward the bar.
Where was Jared? Jared was cool. He'd make me a drink.
They all shook their heads, but Devon spoke. "Let that one settle first. You don't want to end the night throwing up into a toilet, do you?"
I pursed my lips and sat back in my chair, arms crossed. "No."
"Don't worry," he assured me. "I ordered you some fries. Eat those, then you can get something else to drink."
Lucas nodded and dragged his bottle of whiskey further away from me. Yeah. Like I wanted any of that hog swallow again.
He said, "Yeah take it easy, you weigh like 80 pounds and alcohol poisoning is a real thing. The best way to ruin a night is a trip to the hospital."
Though my tongue was still sharp, it was starting to feel thicker and I stumbled on my words. "Says the—uh, drunk driving . . . shit lamps! And I weigh more than a hundred pounds, okay?"
Eighty pounds . . . I would have been dead. Idiots. No way they were gonna find out how much I weighed but it was more than eighty pounds.
Fuckwits.
Conversation turned after they all laughed at me, but I became fascinated with the men playing darts across the room, and then loud noises from the pool table turned my head. The paintings on the wall were interesting and caught my eye, only to lose it to the colorful neon sign flashing across the wall. It was too far to read, though.
Finally, my fries were ready. Jared signaled to us and I stood up. Devon walked me over and I thanked Jared, paid for the fries with my card, and headed back over to our booth.
"You know, I can walk by myself," I insisted, cradling the fries against my chest so I didn't drop them.
"Uh huh. We're over here," Devon snickered, steering me away from a table full of strangers.
Devon was paying more attention than I would have credited him. He took my arm, pulling me back into the right booth before I made a fool of myself. I shot everyone a glare, daring them to laugh.
This time they didn't.
Conversations started back up and I sat quietly, contemplating the culinary wonder that was my fries. They had to have been the best fries I'd ever tasted.
Even before I found the ketchup. The ketchup just made them even better.
When they were gone, Devon was true to his word and let me buy a piña colada.
Let me.
As if I wasn't an adult who could do whatever I wanted.
Jared was a peach and had it ready lickety-split. I gave him another five-dollar tip before being led back to the booth by Devon.
"Are you happy with your drink?"
I took a tentative sip to avoid yet another brain freeze and I nodded. "Yes. It's my favorite thing so far."
"I think you should stick to water after that one," he chuckled. "More fries are coming your way, too."
"Neat." I snapped that final 'T' sound.
After taking our seats, we were introduced to Lucas' wife. She'd shown up sometime after we left to order my drink, and regular conversation resumed.
We were in the middle of swapping work stories when I heard a strange buzzing noise. My piña colada was half gone and I was still nibbling fries. This time without ketchup. Fuck ketchup.
Devon shifted around next to me and I leaned away from him as he struggled to pull something from his pocket. The simplest of movements made my head spin and my stomach flop over itself.
"Stop wiggling!" If only looks could kill.
"Someone's calling me, calm down," he muttered, finally pulling his cell phone free.
He read the caller ID, then swore under his breath. "It's Dixon."
"What's that stiff want? It's Friday," Lucas groaned, pouring his wife another shot.
She was pretty. I wished I was that pretty. Her hair was fixed up, make-up on point, and nails done. My hair was frizzy and pulled into a ponytail, nor did I bother with make-up or manicures.
Devon shrugged, then put the phone to his ear. "This is Hart."
I sighed wistfully, wondering if I should try to look pretty for Wolf.
Wait, he wouldn't care. He was an alien. What was I thinking?
"We're at the bar, why what happened?" Dixon said something inaudible. "Yes, she's here too."
/She? Must mean me./
Devon glanced at me and grimaced. "I mean, I guess we could come in, but Shain's a little . . . out of it right now, I don't know how much she'd—well, not a whole lot but—alright, alright. I'll . . . buy her some water. McGrath's here too, should I—ok. Alright. Be there soon."
When he put his phone away and stood up, I narrowed my eyes and asked, "What's he want? Where we going? Why we going? I thought we were having fun. What about my fries and drink?"
Sighing, Devon sat back down. "You can bring the fries with you, just leave the basket. Finish your drink quick, though: duty calls. You two can stay here and continue the fun, though."
"What did Dixon want?" Richard asked, swirling the remains of his second beer. "You guys got something super secret going on?"
"Like we'd be able to tell you," I snorted.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm the only one here not part of the club."
"I don't know what he wanted." Devon shrugged. "He didn't say, just that Nichole and I needed to come in. I guess he tried calling your phone but obviously you didn't pick up."
I tried to finish my drink as fast as I could while also saying, "I think I left it in your car." I stuffed a few fries in my mouth, trying to chase away the inevitable brain freeze.
When it didn't work, I pushed the heels of my palms against my head and whimpered quietly.
"Idiot, you didn't have to finish it that quickly," Devon sighed, exasperated.
"Can't keep Dixon waiting," I gurgled, mouth and brain frozen.
He sighed and stood up again, shimmying out of the booth. He remembered his beer at the last second and drank the rest in one sitting.
"Well, grab your fries and let's go. We gotta stop and get you some water so you can sober up."
"I'm not drunk, limp dick." I gathered up my things, clenched my eyes shut against the pain in my skull, then dragged my ass upright.
Richard and Lucas snickered, but I missed Devon's reaction: I was trying to remember how to stand up straight.
"Damn she's fucking scrappy when she's lit," Lucas said, shaking his head and giggling like a stupid teenager.
I narrowed my eyes and considered hitting him.
That, however, would be rude. Especially in front of his wife.
So, instead, I acted like a fucking lady and just swore at him. "I'm not lit either, you all just piss me off."
"Da-amn," Richard laughed. I was glad they found this so funny.
Rebecca said nothing, just shouldered her husband a little bit.
I pointed at her and said, "Not you. You're nice. And so pretty."
"Ah . . . thanks." She tried not to look amused.
Devon rolled his eyes and gripped my arm when I forgot walking required placing one foot in front of the other.
I allowed him to brace me, then I tore my arm away and straightened my shirt. "Okay I'm fine, okay? God. Okay."
"You gonna be able to get home, Richard?" Devon asked, ignoring me.
"I'll just call a taxi."
"You sure?"
He nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Lucas here lives too far away for me to ask him for a ride. I can afford one taxi drive."
Lucas shrugged. "I'd be ok with taking you home if you didn't wanna pay for a ride."
Richard insisted. "Nah, man. It's cool. Gotta keep the taxi business alive, what with all these services you get on your phone now."
"Can we go?" I whined. "They'll figure it out, and if not, maybe we can pick him up after Dick-son tells us what he needs to tell us so late on a Friday night!"
Devon gave me one of his disarming smiles and motioned for me to walk ahead of him. "Sure. Ladies first."
My defenses came down and I said, "I don't deserve you."
"Nope. But that's alright. Let's get outta here," he laughed, urging me forward.
I could still feel him just barely touching my back, trying to be sneaky and keep me upright.
We headed outside. I tripped on the raised sidewalk. Then I failed to duck low enough when climbing into the car. I made up a few new profanities for that one.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
Imagine_Kayla
Imagine_Kayla Hello, readers!
Hope you guys had a good weekend.
Sorry about not making a second update on Friday, the bosses gave me a bunch of projects to work on so I was pretty busy. Today I had to be cashier for half my shift so I didn't get much done.
This chapter is a little longer than normal, so I hope that kind of makes up for it!
It's a more, fun and light-hearted before shit starts getting real. And it bout to get really real for realsies.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone