Read Online More Than Water by Renee Ericson - Free Book Online Page A

her half-full pint. “Same as the last time would be great.”
    “You got it.”
    “And, EJ?” Chandra calls as I turn toward the rear of the bar. “I’ll be sure to…” She winks and gestures toward the vacant seat where Anthony was seated, indicating that she will help to take care of the narcissistic dickwad.
    Thanks , I mouth.
    Then, I head to the restroom, pausing only for a moment more when I spy Anthony heading back to our table. Sure, I’m avoiding him like a child afraid of clowns at a circus, but this guy is one freak show I’ve had enough of for a night.
    After freshening up, I circle toward the bar and order a drink for Chandra and myself.
    “Here you are,” the bartender says, sliding the beverages in my direction.
    I pay the gal, leaving a generous tip because working around the holidays likely blows ass chunks, and I grab the two cold drinks. Turning around to walk back to where Chandra and Jeremy’s friends are seated, my attention is caught by a table of men hollering boisterously to my right. Three guys laughing and chanting while the fourth slams a shot glass and then places it in the middle of the table with a collection of other empties.
    I recognize one of the laughers and chanters as my coworker.
    Foster slaps the hard wooden surface in front of him and then shoots up from his seat before heading straight in my direction.
    “Hey,” I say. “Fancy seeing you here.”
    “EJ?” He squints his blue orbs behind his black frames. “Did you change your hair?”
    “Yeah. Red. It was time for something new. No one wants to look like a snow cone for too long.”
    “So, you splashed a little color onto yours. I got ya.”
    He’s in a good mood tonight. I’m glad that someone is.
    Foster sidles between the bar and me. “I thought you were in New York for the holiday weekend.”
    “I was, but I decided to come back early. Change of plans.”
    He raises his hand, signaling for the barkeep. “Couldn’t grow fins fast enough?”
    “What? Are you drunk? How much have you had to drink?”
    “In ounces or alcohol content?”
    “Don’t talk nerdy to me.”
    “Har, har. Hardy, har, har.”
    A small spurt of laughter escapes my lips. I’m laughing with him, beside him.
    “I assume you spent the holiday with your parents?” Foster continues.
    “Yeah, just like every year.”
    He leans a little closer, and the scent of whiskey wafts off his breath. “And you couldn’t grow fins?”
    I narrow my eyes.
    “To change into a mermaid,” he says slyly.
    “You remembered,” I say, impressed that he recalled the somewhat serious conversation we’d shared a few weeks back.
    Tapping his forehead, he replies, “Big brain.”
    “Extremely.”
    The bartender arrives, and Foster places an order for sixteen shots of flavored vodka, which is pure insanity. Without any question, she sets the glasses on a tray and then begins to fill them with the strong clear liquid.
    “Party hard,” I say as the last glass is being filled. “Nothing like a vat of rocket fuel to warm you up on a cool evening.”
    Foster pulls out his wallet, gives the woman a few bills, tells her to keep the change, and then lifts the tray from the bar.
    “Are you starting a fraternity house?” I ask.
    “Nope. Drinking game. Care to join?”
    “I would kick your ass at quarters, and I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends.”
    Slowly walking back toward his table, carrying his tray of rocket fuel for the soul, he says, “Not quarters.”
    With my interest piqued, I follow at his side while holding my beer in one hand and Chandra’s in the other. I should be getting back, so I don’t worry my roommate, but a few more minutes can’t hurt. Besides, the longer I avoid Anthony’s company, the better.
    “Then, what are you playing?” I ask when we are with his companions.
    His friends all stop talking, lifting their gazes to Foster and me.
    “It’s elemental,” Foster states, divvying up the shot glasses