“We’re going to the bar for shots.”
“We are?”
“It’s the only way to round up a night like this.”
“Okay.”
We throw our trash in the bin and hurry back to the car. I turn towards the north side, but Lexa directs me back to the West End.
We pull up outside a very dark, dirty bar with covered windows. It had a bright sign once, but now the words are so broken, it’s impossible to tell what they might have said.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask hesitantly.
“Yep,” she answers. “It’s a good place. We used to sneak in when we were sixteen, and Carly would give us glasses of champagne—that we later found out was apple juice and mineral water.”
“Nice trick,” I chuckle. “Carly’s the owner?”
“Yeah. It’s family-run.”
Lexa leads me through the front door, and the place is even worse than I imagined from seeing the state of the outside. It’s extremely dark, with crowded tables almost completely hidden against the walls and corners. The air is lined with shifting waves of smoke.
I stumble along behind Lexa, knowing that if she weren’t holding my hand, I’d probably turn around and run.
“Hey, hey!” Lexa says, sitting down on a bar stool. “Is that you, Bobby?”
“Is thatyou, Lexa?”
A short, dark-haired woman shuffles over, and they briefly hug over the bar. I sit down awkwardly, trying not to draw attention to myself.
“So you’re back. The rumorsaretrue,” Bobby flicks her eyes in my direction. “How’s married life?”
“Just fine,” Lexa answers, shoving the topic aside. “We’re celebrating. Pour some shots of bourbon, will you?”
“Yeah, I could definitely use some Jim Beam,” I say without thinking.
Both girls look at me with amused expressions.
“What did he just say?” Bobby asks.
“No idea,” Lexa shakes her head. “Must be a foreign language.”
“What?” I mumble, completely lost.
Bobby leans down and grabs two shot glasses. She smacks them down on the bar, then turns to get a tall bottle without a label, half filled with incredibly dark liquid.
“Raw bourbon,” she announces, pouring two shots. “Off-label. We can’t afford any name brands down here.”
“I didn’t know such a thing existed,” I say, picking up the small glass to look deeply into it.
Lexa grabs hers, downs it in one gulp, and smacks her glass on the table. My hand trembles a little as I bring the shot to my lips.
Is this stuff going to send me blind?
There’s no time for fear—the girls are staring at me, ready to pass judgment. I slam down the alcohol and drop the glass to the counter, waiting for the ill effects.
To my surprise, there are none. The bourbon doesn’t burn as much as I thought it would, and complex flavors dance across my tongue.
“Another?” Bobby asks, raising an eyebrow.
