Nocturnes Read Online Free PDF

dickhead who’s an expert at ruining everything good.”
    I wipe my mouth and sit on the tile floor beside the toilet.
    When will I learn?
    I gotta pull myself together and get back to Lola. I can’t leave Nocturnes without her.
    But fuck , I’m so wasted.
    I smack the back of my head against the metal wall. It doesn’t bring the sobriety I was hoping for. Just gives me a headache.
    Why did I drink so much?
    Same reason you always drink so much. It makes you feel good. My conscience snickers.
    Okay, maybe just a few more minutes in here. Puke again, wash your face, then go back to the floor. You’ve got work to do.

    I look at the toilet. “You and I are going to be on very intimate terms by the time this night ends,” I say.
    The fingers go down the gullet once again. When all I’m left with are dry heaves, I stand, flush, and head for the sink. Bracing myself on the countertop, I study my reflection.
    It’s no wonder Lola ditched me. I look like death fucking warmed over. Bags under my eyes puff out like little water balloons. My hair is sweaty and matted to my face. Cheeks are unshaven, and my skin is clammy. The bruises from the beating Toombs gave me would give a masochist a massive, jealous hard-on. I’m sure Toombs appreciates the irony.
    The door opens and closes as guys come in and go out. I just stand there. Staring at myself. Frozen.
    I wish Toombs were here.
    What are you talking about? He fucked you over, man. You don’t need that asshole in your social life anymore.

    Nope. I don’t.
    I twist the knob and cup my hands under the stream of cold water. Splashing my face a couple of times and rinsing out my mouth, I file the unpleasant memories from the last week under “not worth my time” and slam the drawer shut.
    The door opens, and Lordy, Lordy, guess who’s here? Duane.
    He struts up to me and flashes a grin. His front gold tooth sparkles. All I can think of is Mr. Clean. Ding!
    “Here to scrub the toilets?” I say.
    Fucker cracks me with a punch I probably could have dodged if I were sober. My body spins with the impact, and I fly face first into the locked door of the nearest stall.
    “What the hell, man?” the guy inside yells.
    “Mother. Fuck.” I cradle my jaw. Here’s the pain I was looking for earlier. At least it sobers me up a little.
    “I told you I’d remove your ass if you got outta line again, pretty boy. That shit you pulled with Lola bought you some sky miles on Fly Your Ass Home Airlines.” Dude comes at me, meaty paws poised to grab me by the shoulders and have his way with me. I duck awkwardly and stumble out of his reach. The two guys using the hand dryers dart out the door.
    Holding up my mitts, I say, “Okay, man, I’m going. Don’t get your panties in a twist. I just gotta tell Lola something, and I’m out.”
    He stomps toward me. “You ain’t doing nothing but takin’ your sorry ass out of here. Management don’t like guys touching the merchandise, and you broke protocol twice tonight.”
    I scramble to the door. “But it’s Mardi Gras.”
    “I don’t give a fuck if it’s your motherfucking execution day. You don’t touch the goods. Now, we can do this the easy way or the Duane way.” His hulking shadow descends over me. The weight of it holds me in place.
    I know when I’m outgunned. Duane’s arms are packing dual M-16s to my meager .38s. I’m still drunk as fuck, which puts me at even more of a disadvantage. But despite the odds stacked against me, I kinda want to throw down with this asshole. With so much tequila in my system, I have built-in painkillers on standby. I spit a mouthful of blood on the floor.
    I commit.
    Then Jillian’s warning to behave rears its spiky battle-axe of a head and jabs a hole in my inflated bravado. I blow out my breath long and hard. Shit.
    “Okay, man. I’ll go.”
    “You want me to hold your hand as I walk you to the door?”
    “Nah, I’m good.” I work my sore jaw and lead the way out.
    As I pass the