enjoy myself. "Hey Rosie!" the blond biker shouted. "Three over here!"
J. uncovered his eyes and shot me a mock-bashful look over the palm of his hand. "Emmy, I apologize for my brother over here. Case gets excited easily."
I looked back and forth, hesitant, from J.'s smooth mahogany skin to Case's pale, reddened face. "Bro...ther?" I sputtered, then immediately blushed.
J. just looked amused. "Brothers. M.C. brotherhood."
He leaned forward, ducking out of Case's increasingly unsteady grasp. "You'd know what I meant if you belonged to a club," he teased, fluttering the hem of my T-shirt. "Instead of being a lone wolf like you are."
"Lone wolf, is that what I am?" I sat back on my stool. "I kind of like that."
"Oh Jesus, I'm gonna need more to drink if I have to listen to you two," Case complained. He reached over us to grab the shots that had just been delivered by a plump, middle-aged woman.
"Thanks Rosie, keep 'em comin'." He spun around between our two stools and leaned against the bar for support. "What's your name again, gorgeous?" he blinked at me.
"Emilia. Emmy," I repeated.
He nodded and handed me a shot glass filled to the brim with amber colored liquid. "This shit burns, Emmy" he warned, and raised his glass.
I looked at J., who nodded encouragingly. I brought the glass to my lips and winced.
"It smells like gasoline," I complained.
"Tastes worse too!" Case grinned. "Cheers!"
I was suddenly looking at myself from the outside in. Me, Emilia, the fianceé of Robert Whitestone III, heir to the Whitestone fortune and the toast of Philadelphia high-society, drinking cheap whiskey with bikers. I had to laugh.
Then I knocked back the shot in one swallow, just like my dad taught me.
The bourbon hit my throat like wildfire, burning a savage trail all the way down into my stomach. I felt my eyes water and squeezed them shut as I tried to suppress a cough behind my hand.
"Need a chaser?" J. was right there when I opened my eyes, wiggling a pint of beer invitingly. Case was already pounding his.
I lunged for the beer wordlessly and poured two-thirds of it down my open throat before I quenched the burn.
Case whooped and J. raised his eyebrows in approval. "So you've done some drinking before, huh?"
The burning settled into a dull, pleasant warmth that radiated out of my stomach and made my limbs droop.
"You could say it's a family tradition," I replied airily, then immediately regretted it.
No one wanted to hear my self-pity. Robert had drilled that into my head just as often as he had grilled me for stories of my dad's drunken rampages. It was almost as if he liked picking at my pain.
"Heh, I hear that," J. nodded, and I saw the telltale knowledge behind his eyes. He knew what I wasn't saying. I braced myself for the questions, readying my lies.
But instead of poking at me, he just sighed. "Want another?"
I leaned forward slightly, testing my limbs. "I'm going to need some food in my belly if I'm going to keep drinking," I realized.
"Let's fix that then!" Case shouted. "Rosie!"
"Case?" J. asked.
"Yeah?"
"Go away."
I cringed, ready for Case to take offense. I had never heard someone speak so plainly before.
Case only nodded.
"Got it. Probably my shift with the bikes anyway. Crash is most likely in a pretty foul mood about missing the party." He stepped between us, but stopped just over my shoulder. He bent towards me, his pale blue eyes bloodshot and unfocused. "Wish I had gotten to you first, Emmy. You're fuckin' gorgeous, you know that?"
"Uh," I stammered, ducking away from the hot stench of whiskey on his breath. "Thank you?"
He looked at me a second. "You don't know it," he realized, widening his icy eyes. "Well you are." He stood back up. "I'm an expert."
"Go the fuck away, Case," J. called out amiably.
"Going!" The huge blond biker staggered to the door and pushed it open, letting in a blast of heat from the summer night.
"Fuckin' idiot." J. shook his head. "Hope he didn't freak you
J. uncovered his eyes and shot me a mock-bashful look over the palm of his hand. "Emmy, I apologize for my brother over here. Case gets excited easily."
I looked back and forth, hesitant, from J.'s smooth mahogany skin to Case's pale, reddened face. "Bro...ther?" I sputtered, then immediately blushed.
J. just looked amused. "Brothers. M.C. brotherhood."
He leaned forward, ducking out of Case's increasingly unsteady grasp. "You'd know what I meant if you belonged to a club," he teased, fluttering the hem of my T-shirt. "Instead of being a lone wolf like you are."
"Lone wolf, is that what I am?" I sat back on my stool. "I kind of like that."
"Oh Jesus, I'm gonna need more to drink if I have to listen to you two," Case complained. He reached over us to grab the shots that had just been delivered by a plump, middle-aged woman.
"Thanks Rosie, keep 'em comin'." He spun around between our two stools and leaned against the bar for support. "What's your name again, gorgeous?" he blinked at me.
"Emilia. Emmy," I repeated.
He nodded and handed me a shot glass filled to the brim with amber colored liquid. "This shit burns, Emmy" he warned, and raised his glass.
I looked at J., who nodded encouragingly. I brought the glass to my lips and winced.
"It smells like gasoline," I complained.
"Tastes worse too!" Case grinned. "Cheers!"
I was suddenly looking at myself from the outside in. Me, Emilia, the fianceé of Robert Whitestone III, heir to the Whitestone fortune and the toast of Philadelphia high-society, drinking cheap whiskey with bikers. I had to laugh.
Then I knocked back the shot in one swallow, just like my dad taught me.
The bourbon hit my throat like wildfire, burning a savage trail all the way down into my stomach. I felt my eyes water and squeezed them shut as I tried to suppress a cough behind my hand.
"Need a chaser?" J. was right there when I opened my eyes, wiggling a pint of beer invitingly. Case was already pounding his.
I lunged for the beer wordlessly and poured two-thirds of it down my open throat before I quenched the burn.
Case whooped and J. raised his eyebrows in approval. "So you've done some drinking before, huh?"
The burning settled into a dull, pleasant warmth that radiated out of my stomach and made my limbs droop.
"You could say it's a family tradition," I replied airily, then immediately regretted it.
No one wanted to hear my self-pity. Robert had drilled that into my head just as often as he had grilled me for stories of my dad's drunken rampages. It was almost as if he liked picking at my pain.
"Heh, I hear that," J. nodded, and I saw the telltale knowledge behind his eyes. He knew what I wasn't saying. I braced myself for the questions, readying my lies.
But instead of poking at me, he just sighed. "Want another?"
I leaned forward slightly, testing my limbs. "I'm going to need some food in my belly if I'm going to keep drinking," I realized.
"Let's fix that then!" Case shouted. "Rosie!"
"Case?" J. asked.
"Yeah?"
"Go away."
I cringed, ready for Case to take offense. I had never heard someone speak so plainly before.
Case only nodded.
"Got it. Probably my shift with the bikes anyway. Crash is most likely in a pretty foul mood about missing the party." He stepped between us, but stopped just over my shoulder. He bent towards me, his pale blue eyes bloodshot and unfocused. "Wish I had gotten to you first, Emmy. You're fuckin' gorgeous, you know that?"
"Uh," I stammered, ducking away from the hot stench of whiskey on his breath. "Thank you?"
He looked at me a second. "You don't know it," he realized, widening his icy eyes. "Well you are." He stood back up. "I'm an expert."
"Go the fuck away, Case," J. called out amiably.
"Going!" The huge blond biker staggered to the door and pushed it open, letting in a blast of heat from the summer night.
"Fuckin' idiot." J. shook his head. "Hope he didn't freak you
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