house!"
I accepted the Screwball happily, wondering at the occasion. Slam wasn't generally in such a good mood, preferring to sulk until someone ordered something, or until one of his preferred patrons entered, when he would start a bit of a conversation. "So, what's the occasion, Slammer?"
"It's not that often that I have my three favorite people in for a drink all at the same time. I missed you guys, here. Got nothing but the refuse that all the other bars throw out." Slam grunted, his deep guttural tone caused by a bad fall off of a halfpipe that had given him both his reedy, ruined voice, and a slight limp. "Besides, nobody can put away quite as much alcohol and still walk themselves out of here as Grace."
"Nope." I laughed shamelessly. It was true. I liked me my legal substances.
And it probably helped that I really could walk straight and even drive myself home even when I was slopping drunk. Nobody could quite figure out how, including myself. I rarely remembered getting home, at all.
So I downed the first drink and moved on to the next one fairly quickly. "Yeager shots? You trying to kill us, Slam?"
Julia just elbowed me in the ribs, and gestured toward some random guy in the corner. "That guy's been looking at you since you came in, Gracie. I think you have a stalker…"
I studied my 'stalker' for a few moments. He was a pretty good-looking guy… hm. Too bad he's been staring at me in that creepy-as-hell-I-know-who-you-are-but-you-don't-know-who-I-am kind of way.
I turned back around and tried to ignore it. If I got enough alcohol in me, I could just about ignore anything. That was my intention.
And about three and a half Yeager shots later, I was loose-tongued enough to very loudly tell him to fuck off when he tapped me on the shoulder. He just grinned, nodded once, and swept away, leaving a crumpled note on the table beside one of my empty glasses. Ah, so that's what this is about.
I was still clear-headed enough to open up the note and read it without difficulty, even though the flickering neon Budweiser sign behind Slam was beginning to look hazy.
The note cryptically stated;
'Pleased to meet my newest colleague.'
In tiny, flowing script. Wow, my stalker-turned-colleague has pretty handwriting… and then I caught the little footnote:
Come back here, same time tomorrow. '
Don't worry, Kendall called me.'
And so my stalker had credentials… of course he would, not many people knew where to find me, unless they called through Kendall. And so therefore, I had another job to do. Damn, I thought, as I reached the conclusion at the end of the trail of deductive reasoning. I really hate my job.
That was probably the best thought I'd ever had in my life. Would've helped me quite a bit if I'd thought it up sober.
CHAPTER 3
"I think I may have had a few too many." I grumbled, headache and sickness fully in place. "This sucks."
"Get over it, Grace. At least you got to drive yourself home. I had to go back and get my car this morning." Julia groused, a little grumpy.
"Hm. Come on, ladies, go take a chill pill." Daisuke teased, not hung over on the least, and he'd nearly matched me drink-for-drink.
"What's your secret, Dai?" Julia asked with mild wonder. "Seriously."
"Not telling. I have too much fun watching you two suffer out your headaches." And with that, he gave a cheery little wave and wandered off in the direction of his room.
Julia got a little grumpier. "You know, I really hate him sometimes." And wandered off, too, leaving me alone on one of the red couches, feeling completely trashed. Maybe it wasn't such a healthy idea to go out and get shitfaced on a regular basis.
It was already dark outside; as I had effectively slept the day away, as I generally do when I'd been partying the previous night. And now, I had to haul my butt up, because I had other things to do tonight. Damn.
I wandered back into the
I accepted the Screwball happily, wondering at the occasion. Slam wasn't generally in such a good mood, preferring to sulk until someone ordered something, or until one of his preferred patrons entered, when he would start a bit of a conversation. "So, what's the occasion, Slammer?"
"It's not that often that I have my three favorite people in for a drink all at the same time. I missed you guys, here. Got nothing but the refuse that all the other bars throw out." Slam grunted, his deep guttural tone caused by a bad fall off of a halfpipe that had given him both his reedy, ruined voice, and a slight limp. "Besides, nobody can put away quite as much alcohol and still walk themselves out of here as Grace."
"Nope." I laughed shamelessly. It was true. I liked me my legal substances.
And it probably helped that I really could walk straight and even drive myself home even when I was slopping drunk. Nobody could quite figure out how, including myself. I rarely remembered getting home, at all.
So I downed the first drink and moved on to the next one fairly quickly. "Yeager shots? You trying to kill us, Slam?"
Julia just elbowed me in the ribs, and gestured toward some random guy in the corner. "That guy's been looking at you since you came in, Gracie. I think you have a stalker…"
I studied my 'stalker' for a few moments. He was a pretty good-looking guy… hm. Too bad he's been staring at me in that creepy-as-hell-I-know-who-you-are-but-you-don't-know-who-I-am kind of way.
I turned back around and tried to ignore it. If I got enough alcohol in me, I could just about ignore anything. That was my intention.
And about three and a half Yeager shots later, I was loose-tongued enough to very loudly tell him to fuck off when he tapped me on the shoulder. He just grinned, nodded once, and swept away, leaving a crumpled note on the table beside one of my empty glasses. Ah, so that's what this is about.
I was still clear-headed enough to open up the note and read it without difficulty, even though the flickering neon Budweiser sign behind Slam was beginning to look hazy.
The note cryptically stated;
'Pleased to meet my newest colleague.'
In tiny, flowing script. Wow, my stalker-turned-colleague has pretty handwriting… and then I caught the little footnote:
Come back here, same time tomorrow. '
Don't worry, Kendall called me.'
And so my stalker had credentials… of course he would, not many people knew where to find me, unless they called through Kendall. And so therefore, I had another job to do. Damn, I thought, as I reached the conclusion at the end of the trail of deductive reasoning. I really hate my job.
That was probably the best thought I'd ever had in my life. Would've helped me quite a bit if I'd thought it up sober.
CHAPTER 3
"I think I may have had a few too many." I grumbled, headache and sickness fully in place. "This sucks."
"Get over it, Grace. At least you got to drive yourself home. I had to go back and get my car this morning." Julia groused, a little grumpy.
"Hm. Come on, ladies, go take a chill pill." Daisuke teased, not hung over on the least, and he'd nearly matched me drink-for-drink.
"What's your secret, Dai?" Julia asked with mild wonder. "Seriously."
"Not telling. I have too much fun watching you two suffer out your headaches." And with that, he gave a cheery little wave and wandered off in the direction of his room.
Julia got a little grumpier. "You know, I really hate him sometimes." And wandered off, too, leaving me alone on one of the red couches, feeling completely trashed. Maybe it wasn't such a healthy idea to go out and get shitfaced on a regular basis.
It was already dark outside; as I had effectively slept the day away, as I generally do when I'd been partying the previous night. And now, I had to haul my butt up, because I had other things to do tonight. Damn.
I wandered back into the
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