Read Online Iron (The Warding Book 1) by Robin L. Cole - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Robin L. Cole
Tags: Urban Fantasy
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again, I texted, “ I’m still down. Just need to clean up and get pretty. Still meeting at your place at 8, right?”
~*~
By 1 a.m. I was tipsy as hell and wondering why I had ever let myself become crippled by fear. Jenni and I had gone through one club, three bars, and enough liquor to make my liver weep. Though the night had started off with some jitters, I was glad I had forced myself out of my self-imposed fortress of solitude. The fresh air (and copious amounts of booze) had done me good. The world was looking brighter by the moment, my earlier fears becoming distant, crazy memories I was glad to leave behind.
Luckily, I managed to talk Jenni out of our usual last stop at Gilroy’s. Discounted drinks or no, I just couldn’t handle that place—not yet. I might have overdone it on my impassioned speech about how she shouldn’t have to spend the end of her night off at her place of employment. I was half in the bag by that point so it’s entirely possible. I’m not even sure if she really bought it or not but, either way, she let it slide.
Instead we wound up at Harbin’s, a low key hole-in-the-wall down the block from Jenni’s apartment. The bartender there had gone to ‘tending school with Jenni and had a bit of a crush on her. That was both convenient—hello free drinks!—and awkward, since she happened to be very much taken and he knew it. Worse still, I knew that he knew it, and hated that he continued to hit on her anyway. I had the feeling I’d spend the remainder of the night running interference if he got too handsy but; whatever. It was still better than having to walk back through Gilroy’s door. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to look at that place the same way again.
Once in the bar, I shoved my coat into Jenni’s arms and made a beeline for the bathroom. It was our usual ritual at the last stop of the night. I had a bladder the size of a pea, so she always procured us a table and a round of drinks while I dashed off to the ladies room. Thankfully there was an open stall, so I didn’t leave her waiting long. I weaved my way over to the back corner, keeping an eye on my treacherous feet. I was glad that I had broken the rules of high fashion and worn flats—and even more glad that there wasn’t much of a crowd in the bar to navigate, given how stumble-y I was.
When I made it to our table and slid into my seat, I was thrilled to see a full glass of wine awaiting me. Jenni was talking with Bryan, who had left his post at the bar to chat her up. Predictable. He loomed between us, a wall of determined stupidity. As usual his back was to me, so that all I could see was a wall of black fabric. I crossed my eyes and stuck my tongue out at him. Jenni stifled a laugh mid-sentence, giving me the mean little thrill of satisfaction I so longed for.
While they chatted, I rifled through my purse for some lip balm. Eventually she would ease my welcome into the break in conversation. Bryan would never acknowledge me himself. I was pretty certain he saw me as the final hurdle in his on-going quest to get her in the sack. He should have realized how lucky he was to be dealing with my puny five-foot-four ass. If not for me, he would have been facing down six feet of angry, muscled marine.
I heard the scrape of the chair between us being pulled out. “—the new girl, Ramona. I’ve got to stick around to keep an eye on her, but she’s got this. I can hang for a bit.”
Balls.
My stint as No Touchy Referee was starting early. Lucky me. The depths of my purse had just become the most interesting place in the world. Anything—even handbag lint—was interesting if it kept me from having to make eye contact and small talk with that douche-nozzle. The joy must have showed on my face, because Jenni chimed in brightly, “And you remember my friend Caitlin, right? We’re celebrating her belated birthday tonight!”
Traitor. I took my sweet time turning away and hanging my purse on the back of
~*~
By 1 a.m. I was tipsy as hell and wondering why I had ever let myself become crippled by fear. Jenni and I had gone through one club, three bars, and enough liquor to make my liver weep. Though the night had started off with some jitters, I was glad I had forced myself out of my self-imposed fortress of solitude. The fresh air (and copious amounts of booze) had done me good. The world was looking brighter by the moment, my earlier fears becoming distant, crazy memories I was glad to leave behind.
Luckily, I managed to talk Jenni out of our usual last stop at Gilroy’s. Discounted drinks or no, I just couldn’t handle that place—not yet. I might have overdone it on my impassioned speech about how she shouldn’t have to spend the end of her night off at her place of employment. I was half in the bag by that point so it’s entirely possible. I’m not even sure if she really bought it or not but, either way, she let it slide.
Instead we wound up at Harbin’s, a low key hole-in-the-wall down the block from Jenni’s apartment. The bartender there had gone to ‘tending school with Jenni and had a bit of a crush on her. That was both convenient—hello free drinks!—and awkward, since she happened to be very much taken and he knew it. Worse still, I knew that he knew it, and hated that he continued to hit on her anyway. I had the feeling I’d spend the remainder of the night running interference if he got too handsy but; whatever. It was still better than having to walk back through Gilroy’s door. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to look at that place the same way again.
Once in the bar, I shoved my coat into Jenni’s arms and made a beeline for the bathroom. It was our usual ritual at the last stop of the night. I had a bladder the size of a pea, so she always procured us a table and a round of drinks while I dashed off to the ladies room. Thankfully there was an open stall, so I didn’t leave her waiting long. I weaved my way over to the back corner, keeping an eye on my treacherous feet. I was glad that I had broken the rules of high fashion and worn flats—and even more glad that there wasn’t much of a crowd in the bar to navigate, given how stumble-y I was.
When I made it to our table and slid into my seat, I was thrilled to see a full glass of wine awaiting me. Jenni was talking with Bryan, who had left his post at the bar to chat her up. Predictable. He loomed between us, a wall of determined stupidity. As usual his back was to me, so that all I could see was a wall of black fabric. I crossed my eyes and stuck my tongue out at him. Jenni stifled a laugh mid-sentence, giving me the mean little thrill of satisfaction I so longed for.
While they chatted, I rifled through my purse for some lip balm. Eventually she would ease my welcome into the break in conversation. Bryan would never acknowledge me himself. I was pretty certain he saw me as the final hurdle in his on-going quest to get her in the sack. He should have realized how lucky he was to be dealing with my puny five-foot-four ass. If not for me, he would have been facing down six feet of angry, muscled marine.
I heard the scrape of the chair between us being pulled out. “—the new girl, Ramona. I’ve got to stick around to keep an eye on her, but she’s got this. I can hang for a bit.”
Balls.
My stint as No Touchy Referee was starting early. Lucky me. The depths of my purse had just become the most interesting place in the world. Anything—even handbag lint—was interesting if it kept me from having to make eye contact and small talk with that douche-nozzle. The joy must have showed on my face, because Jenni chimed in brightly, “And you remember my friend Caitlin, right? We’re celebrating her belated birthday tonight!”
Traitor. I took my sweet time turning away and hanging my purse on the back of
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