She said, “Then I accept.”
“Excellent,” I said, shaking her hand. Her hand was warm and soft and just a little damp from the icy bottle. I held it for a moment, warming it up. Warming me up. For some reason, I didn’t want to let her hand go.
SANDY
Holy crap…
What the heck was I thinking?
I didn’t want to work for Rick Wright.
I wanted to kill him.
But that would have to wait.
I had to pee.
“I need to pee,” I said. He smiled. My head bobbed. The words slurred from my lips.
“In the back,” Rick said with a nod. He wouldn’t stop smiling at me. Fuck, I wish he’d stop doing that. His smile was making it hard for me to hate him. He watched me slide off the stool. “Need help?”
“No, I’m good,” I said, holding up a hand as I waddled away.
Getting drunk with Rick Wright was not part of my plan, but it seemed to be doing the trick. I had gotten close to him. He seemed to like me. At least he liked my tits because he couldn’t stop looking at them.
I clutched the purse strap hanging over my shoulder and found a restroom in the back that had the word BITCHES painted in red across the door. I went inside, flipped on the light, and locked the door. I fell back on the door and took a minute to catch my breath.
I wasn’t used to drinking. I felt sick. I set my purse on the sink and squatted in front of the toilet, thinking that my stomach was about to send all that beer back up because it was so disgusted with me.
I pushed up the toilet seat and rested my hands on the cold porcelain rim and tried to breathe. Thankfully, the restroom wasn’t a total pig sty. It was ten times cleaner than the rest of the place.
A cold sweat washed over my forehead.
I could taste vomit on the back of my tongue.
I focused on breathing slowly in and out.
After a moment, the wave of nausea passed.
I didn’t know if I was nauseous because I was tipsy or because of my encounter with Rick. I glanced at my watch. We’d been talking for over an hour. It was like having a conversation with the devil. I was sickened by it now, but when it was happening, I was completely under the spell of his charms.
I turned around to undo my pants, then pushed them and my panties down to my knees. I sat down on the toilet and took a good, long pee. I found a tissue in my purse and dabbed the sweat from my forehead. When I looked down into the purse, I saw the dull silver of the Bulldog Snub-nosed .357. For just a second, I imagined myself coming out of the restroom with the gun in my hand. I would go to the bar to kill Rick first, then into the little room where his crew sat playing cards.
I would just point the gun at their heads and pull the trigger.
How hard would that be?
Eddie Wright made it look easy.
I shook the thought away and finished peeing. I pulled up my panties and wiggled the tight jeans over my round ass and zipped them up. I washed my hands and dried them on the dispenser as I checked my reflection in the mirror.
It took a moment for me to recognize the dark-haired woman staring back at me. Her eyes were red, rimmed with dark eyeliner and mascara. Her dark lipstick was smudged from the beer bottles. I blinked at her and she blinked back. I shook my head in disgust at her. She felt the same way about me.
“Okay,” I said to my reflection. “Let’s go home.”
When I opened the door I literally jumped a foot off the ground and screamed. Standing there with his arms propped on either side of the door was Eddie Wright; the younger, greasier, more threatening version of his older brother. He wasn’t as tall as Rick, but he was muscled up and had a dangerous look in his eye, like a stick of dynamite that might go off without a moment’s notice.
He glared at me and smacked his lips. “Hey, sweet thing, you having a good time with my brother?” he asked, looking me up and down. “Damn, don’t you look good enough to eat.”