Read Online WORTHY, Part 2 by Lexie Ray - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lexie Ray
Tags: Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Sagas, Short Stories, Contemporary Fiction, Contemporary Women, Women's Fiction, New Adult & College
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their hips.
A cocktail waitress arrived with a tray, and I opened my mouth to order something, but she instead set down a trio of bottles: vodka, rum, and tequila. Another waitress set down a number of glasses, a bucket of ice, and carafes of different juices. Apparently, VIP meant that we could act as our own bartenders. I didn’t know if that was awesome or dangerous. Probably an exotic mixture of both.
“Let me do the pleasures,” Brock said, grabbing the bottle of tequila. “Let’s do a shot to get warmed up.”
Warmed up? I’d been getting warmed up all evening. I remember how the previous tequila shot had curdled in my stomach.
“I think I’m going to pass on a shot,” I said. “Maybe I’d just better have some of that orange juice.”
“Pass on a tequila shot?” Jane shrieked. “Never! What’s your problem, Michelle?”
“I don’t think I can do it,” I confessed. “The one we took before we left the compound nearly got me.”
“Well, with that attitude, of course you can’t,” she said. “Now, repeat after me: I am going to make this tequila shot my bitch.”
“I am going to make this tequila shot my bitch?”
“With more conviction!” Brock roared, drizzling the foul liquor into three shot glasses.
“I am going to make this tequila shot my bitch!” I hollered, surprised that I could hear myself at all over the music. It wasn’t as loud up here as it had been when we’d first walked in downstairs.
“That’s my sister,” Jane said, grinning at me and holding her shot glass aloft. “Here’s to a night we’ll never forget — well, who am I kidding? Of course we’re going to forget it!”
The tequila hit me the same as before, blending with the salt in a vaguely unpleasant way, but the immediate bite down on the lime made my stomach not only tolerate the shot, but accept it.
“You’re getting better at this,” Jane laughed. “I am seeing very good progress, Michelle. Excellent work.”
“I am now taking drink orders,” Brock said. “Mrs. Wharton?”
“Enough with the Mrs. Wharton!” Jane berated him, slapping him on the arm. “Seriously!”
“I’d be more surprised if I didn’t find Amelia down there dancing,” Brock remarked, following my gaze to the crowd below.
“We’ll take two vodka cranberries,” Jane said. “And no more talk of my mother, please.”
I was soon clutching yet another beverage with yet another kind of liquor sloshing around in it, but I was only too happy to slurp on it with a tiny swivel straw.
“So tell me, Michelle,” Brock said, looking at me. He was pretty handsome once you got past the fact that he was a crude idiot, and I could kind of understand why Jane kept him around. “How’s married life?”
“She hasn’t had a chance to enjoy it yet, remember?” Jane interjected, rolling her eyes. “Jesus, Brock, you can be so dense sometimes. Jonathan had to leave the wedding.”
“He left the wedding?” Brock asked, looking genuinely confused. “Damn. I really was wasted that night.”
“We both were,” Jane said, shaking her head. “But even I remember that. Poor Michelle’s been on her own ever since.”
“That’s a damn shame,” Brock said, patting my hand. “On behalf of my friend, I apologize. He is an asshole for leaving you.”
“He’s not an asshole,” I protested. “He had to go. I totally understand. It’ll be fine when he gets back.”
“It’s fine now,” Jane said. “We’re going to have a good time and not get bogged down in all of this sad, silly talk.”
“I know,” Brock said. “Let’s play a drinking game.”
“What for?” I asked, confused. “We’re already drinking.”
“Please excuse my sheltered sister,” Jane said. “She has lived a sheltered life and before this evening, had never even taken a tequila shot. You’ve never played a drinking game
A cocktail waitress arrived with a tray, and I opened my mouth to order something, but she instead set down a trio of bottles: vodka, rum, and tequila. Another waitress set down a number of glasses, a bucket of ice, and carafes of different juices. Apparently, VIP meant that we could act as our own bartenders. I didn’t know if that was awesome or dangerous. Probably an exotic mixture of both.
“Let me do the pleasures,” Brock said, grabbing the bottle of tequila. “Let’s do a shot to get warmed up.”
Warmed up? I’d been getting warmed up all evening. I remember how the previous tequila shot had curdled in my stomach.
“I think I’m going to pass on a shot,” I said. “Maybe I’d just better have some of that orange juice.”
“Pass on a tequila shot?” Jane shrieked. “Never! What’s your problem, Michelle?”
“I don’t think I can do it,” I confessed. “The one we took before we left the compound nearly got me.”
“Well, with that attitude, of course you can’t,” she said. “Now, repeat after me: I am going to make this tequila shot my bitch.”
“I am going to make this tequila shot my bitch?”
“With more conviction!” Brock roared, drizzling the foul liquor into three shot glasses.
“I am going to make this tequila shot my bitch!” I hollered, surprised that I could hear myself at all over the music. It wasn’t as loud up here as it had been when we’d first walked in downstairs.
“That’s my sister,” Jane said, grinning at me and holding her shot glass aloft. “Here’s to a night we’ll never forget — well, who am I kidding? Of course we’re going to forget it!”
The tequila hit me the same as before, blending with the salt in a vaguely unpleasant way, but the immediate bite down on the lime made my stomach not only tolerate the shot, but accept it.
“You’re getting better at this,” Jane laughed. “I am seeing very good progress, Michelle. Excellent work.”
“I am now taking drink orders,” Brock said. “Mrs. Wharton?”
“Enough with the Mrs. Wharton!” Jane berated him, slapping him on the arm. “Seriously!”
“I’d be more surprised if I didn’t find Amelia down there dancing,” Brock remarked, following my gaze to the crowd below.
“We’ll take two vodka cranberries,” Jane said. “And no more talk of my mother, please.”
I was soon clutching yet another beverage with yet another kind of liquor sloshing around in it, but I was only too happy to slurp on it with a tiny swivel straw.
“So tell me, Michelle,” Brock said, looking at me. He was pretty handsome once you got past the fact that he was a crude idiot, and I could kind of understand why Jane kept him around. “How’s married life?”
“She hasn’t had a chance to enjoy it yet, remember?” Jane interjected, rolling her eyes. “Jesus, Brock, you can be so dense sometimes. Jonathan had to leave the wedding.”
“He left the wedding?” Brock asked, looking genuinely confused. “Damn. I really was wasted that night.”
“We both were,” Jane said, shaking her head. “But even I remember that. Poor Michelle’s been on her own ever since.”
“That’s a damn shame,” Brock said, patting my hand. “On behalf of my friend, I apologize. He is an asshole for leaving you.”
“He’s not an asshole,” I protested. “He had to go. I totally understand. It’ll be fine when he gets back.”
“It’s fine now,” Jane said. “We’re going to have a good time and not get bogged down in all of this sad, silly talk.”
“I know,” Brock said. “Let’s play a drinking game.”
“What for?” I asked, confused. “We’re already drinking.”
“Please excuse my sheltered sister,” Jane said. “She has lived a sheltered life and before this evening, had never even taken a tequila shot. You’ve never played a drinking game
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