No one slipped anything in her drink. But the only reason I hadn’t said anything was because I knew there wasn’t a point. I knew the lifestyle. There was no use in trying to get someone who’s strung out to sober up.
Misty was a grown woman looking to turn a trick. She got fucked up to get the job done. Not my place to judge, and not my place to stop someone from making their paycheck.
But Brooke smelled like expensive perfume, high end makeup, and books—oddly enough. That was an unmistakable scent, and not one I smelled often on people. Teacher, maybe? I wasn’t sure of her profession, but her natural scent beneath the artificial one told me she was a Witch. There was something else there too, but at the very least, she had Witch ancestors.
Eyes still glued to her, I bumped my elbow into Emory’s. “What’s she drinking?”
“Just Pepsi,” he said. “Why? You trying to take her home?”
I lifted a shoulder, watching her tap on Tommy’s shoulder. “Just wanna make sure she’s not walking over there shitfaced.”
“Nah, she’s sober.” He collected his tip from the counter and wiped the bar top with a dishrag. “So you’re clear either way.”
I huffed, zoning in on their conversation, tilting my ear that direction slightly.
“Declan said you were here a few nights ago with a friend of mine,” she said. “I was hoping I could ask you a couple questions.”
Tommy laid his hand of cards face down on the table. A smile edged up his cheeks as he leaned back in his seat. “I might’ve. She a pretty little thing like you?”
Brooke’s hand clenched to a fist at her side. She set the photo on top of his cards. “You tell me.”
He shot her another smirk before glancing at the tabletop. His smile stayed, but his brow arched. “Maybe she looks familiar.”
“Maybe?” Brooke asked, tone sharpening. “Or she does?”
“I’m not sure.” He slid the photo back her way, smile widening. “She ain’t as pretty as you though.”
I heard her stomach gurgle.
I laughed.
“What?” Emory asked.
I shook my head, still focusing on their conversation.
“Listen, I’m just looking for my friend,” Brooke said. “I need to bring her home. Are you gonna help me or not?”
“That depends. What’re you gonna do for me?”
Another gurgle in her stomach.
“What do you want?” Brooke asked.
Tommy held her gaze for a moment, glancing between her eyes, then looking down at the table. His smile stretched. “You know how to play?”
Brooke glanced at the table. “Spades?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Brooke traced her tongue along her teeth. “What’re you getting at? We talk over a game?”
“You beat me, and I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know.” He glanced her over. “You’re a Witch, ain’t you? Beat me in a game, and I’ll let you read my mind. You can see every memory I got from that night.”
“And if I lose?”
“Then we go back to my place, and I’ll tell you everything there.” His hand that’d rested on the armrest lifted, grazing down her back and squeezing her ass.
She jolted, pawing his hand away, but only managing to push it up to her waist. “Don’t touch me.”