Jay tossed the Jack back and chased it with about half the beer, drinking quickly enough to get a little bit of brain freeze.
“I don’t need Zach,” he muttered, still thinking about that fucking scoff. “Or anybody else who thinks it’s their job to mind my business. Including you.”
“Okay,” Duncan said. “Can we just drink and find some chicks to play with until there’s an asshole we want to punch repeatedly?”
Again, Duncan was right. They were at the Dawg, they had cash in their pockets, drinks in their hands, and the whole night before them. Jay didn’t want to bring his shit in here tonight.
“Yeah, sorry. I’ll shake it off.” With that, he made a show of shaking like a dog trying to rid himself of fleas.
Duncan grinned.
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~oOo~
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“Her.” Jay nodded todirect Duncan’s attention to the cute little blonde in the Daisy Dukes and tiny t-shirt emblazoned with the wordsJuicy and Delicious. “She’s got a friend, too. Cute little redhead, just your type.”
They were almost four pints in. Jay had had a couple shots as well. The clock was climbing toward ten and the place was hopping, but underneath the crowd and loud music, things in the Dawg had been surprisingly dull for a Friday night. Until a few minutes ago, he’d been ready to bail on the night entirely—or at least head over to the dancing-girls side of the place.
After a pretty disastrous situation a couple years back with a girl he’d picked up right here at the Dawg, where she’d sort of stalked him after and ended up standing in the middle of the clubhouse screaming all kinds of threats that werewaymore dangerous for her than for him or the club, Jay had sworn off random hookups entirely. For, like, more than a year, he’d banged only sweetbutts.
Butfuck, that got boring. Eventually, he’d needed more variety, but he tried to be careful about how he went about it—not going to the girl’s place for the hookup, for example. Finding a motel instead, if he was especially hot for her, or, more likely, just a dark corner somewhere. He was getting pretty good at figuring which chicks would be game for a dark-corner fuck.
The blonde who had his attention right now probably wasn’t a dark-corner fuck, but there was still some potential over there.
“I don’t have a type, besides hot and into it.” Duncan countered, but he looked—and then laughed. “They’re with guys, Jay. You tryin’ to get your fight and your fuck from the same move, like a buy-one-get-one?”
That was the crux of the potential, yes. But there was more to it. “Maybe, but not like you think. Watch for a sec. They’re not with those guys.”
He’d clocked Daisy about five minutes earlier, then dismissed her as taken—but when he’d looked over again, he’d noticed something off. He couldn’t say for sure what that first something was, but after a few minutes of study, it was clear that those guys wanted to get with the girls, but their presence wasn’t welcome. The girls’ body language was off.
Jay knew, because he’d been told often enough, that sometimes he missed a girl’s body language when it wasn’t going his way. He sometimes muffed mixed signals, when a girl changed her mind, and he occasionally fast-forwarded through the flirting and jumped ahead of the place a girl was ready to be. Maybe he’d taken liberties with a waitress or two; sometimes their interest in a good tip made the line between friendly customer service and a come-on a little fuzzy. But he could tell when a girl was not into it at all.
These girls were not into it at all. But they weren’t dusting the guys with them. That was interesting. If he played it right, there could be some hero worship in his future. That would go a long way toward cleaning up the day.
The guys were both pretty big. One was probably six-three or so, which put him about Duncan’s height but three inches taller than Jay. But that guy didn’t have much meat on him. The other guy was Jay’s height or a little shorter, but built farm-strong, with big arms and a barrel chest that would turn into a beer belly in about ten years.
Unlike his perfect fucking brother, Jay struggled to get and keep bulk. Also unlike Duncan, actually. But he was plenty strong and not precious about fighting dirty. He could hold his own in a fight.
“They look scared,” Duncan observed, setting his glass down.
“That’s what I mean. They’re smiling at the guys, but it looks nervous to me. They keep looking at each other, too. I don’t know why they’re not walkin’ away, though.”
“They’re humoring them. They’re afraid to make a fuss.”
Humoring. Jay had been looking for just that word to describe what he was seeing. “Yep. So I’m thinking they’dappreciatea rescue.”
Duncan laughed and shook his head. “Of course you’re looking for the payoff.”
Jay shrugged. “Why not? If a pretty blonde wants to thank me for dealing with an asshole she can’t shake, it would be rude to reject her, right?”
Duncan picked up his glass again and drained it. “Okay. Let’s tear it up.”
Jay finished his beer, too. He slipped his left hand into his pocket and pushed his fingers through the brass knuckles there. He was right-handed, so putting the knuckles on his left was hardly even fighting dirty.
In tandem, they stepped away from the bar, wended their way across the dance floor, and approached the rough-hewn rail that served as its border on the far side.