Out of Bounds (The Summer Games #2)(13)

“What the—”

She shrugged. “I was going to sneak out after everyone went to sleep. This is a much better option though.”

Rosie clung onto the door. “I’m happy to go, but do you guys think it’s a good idea?”

Lexi shook her head. “Rosie, Rosie, Rosie. You beautiful little starfish. Get your ass in some tight jeans and buck up. With any luck tonight, you might not need a vibrator after all.”

I laughed. “You guys have ten minutes to get ready.”

“What about June?” Rosie asked.

Oh right. June. I’d nearly forgotten about her. It’d be rude to leave her out, so I spun on my heel and walked down to the end of the hall. I pressed my ear to her door, waiting for the telltale sound of classical music. There was no music, but I could hear her on the phone.

“Yeah, we had a short workout today, nothing too intense.”

Silence.

“Oh believe me, Mom, they’re not any competition.”

She laughed and I braced myself against the door, listening.

“Brie’s probably the closest to my level, but she’s never been to the Olympics before. I, for one, won’t be surprised when she chokes.”

I waited a few more minutes, trying to calm my temper. When she hung up, I tapped on the door lightly and waited for it to swing open.

“June?”

Nothing.

I tapped on her door again. “June?”

When she pulled the door open, she looked bored to find me standing on the other side.

“What do you want?”

Don’t invite her, my inner conscious warned. She’ll bring the mood down.

“We were thinking of heading into town to hang out and get to know each other a little better.”

She nodded and stepped back to close her door. “I’m not in the mood.”

I reached my hand out to stop her from shutting the door in my face. “Are you sure?”

Her dark eyes assessed me coolly and when her gaze landed back on my face, I knew she thought I wasn’t even worth the time. “I’m sure.”





Lexi swore she’d done her research and apparently there was a hip club downtown that didn’t card.

“It’ll be easy,” she told us after we’d piled into an Uber. “Just walk up and be confident. They won’t turn away four pretty girls on a Thursday.”

She was right; they didn’t turn us away, but they did slap big black Xs on the backs of our hands to keep us from drinking.

“Here,” she said, pulling a small bottle of nail polish remover out of her purse. Who carries that around with them? “Run to the bathroom and scrub off the Xs. I’ll go get us some drinks.”

“Why didn’t she get Xs on her hands?” Rosie asked once the three of us were safely in the bathroom, wiping away at the permanent marker as hard as we could. I’d locked the door to ensure no one would come in and catch us in the act.

“She has her cousin’s fake ID,” I said.

I poured the nail polish remover on the back of Molly and Rosie’s hands and they scrubbed away under the sink. In the end, we were left with faded black marks. In the dim lighting of the bar, it’d be good enough.

Confident now that we weren’t sporting underage Xs, we strolled out of the bathroom and finally took a good look at the place. The bar wasn’t trendy by any means. The tables were old and mismatched. The lighting was hazy and dim. The music playing over the speakers wasn’t anything I vaguely recognized and most of the people inside looked old enough to be my grandfather.

As we found a booth in the corner of the bar, I slid onto the cheap vinyl seat and scanned the room. Something was definitely off and the moment it sank in, I decided I was going to murder Lexi.

“Is this a biker bar?”

“Aw hell! Look who the cat dragged in!” a burly man hollered over the crowd as he pounded his friend on the back. The bartender—a muscled eighty-year-old with a faded leather vest—slid the pair a couple of longnecks and then reached up to turn the TV station to a football game.

Most of the tables were empty, and the ones that were occupied looked like they needed to be avoided at all costs. Yes, sometimes bikers are pretty attractive, but this was the bar where those bikers went to retire. If the Sons of Anarchy were based in California, the Grandpas of Anarchy must’ve headed north to Seattle. Their once sharp and intimidating tattoos had stretched and faded over their flabby arms. They wore baggy jeans and had receding hairlines, and a slight stench of body odor tainted the entire place. Any plan to meet a cute guy was pretty much off the table.

“Here!” Lexi said as she rushed back from the bar with four drinks in hand. “They looked at me weird when I ordered so many, so drink up quick.”

I grabbed mine and took a long swallow. The beer tasted like lighter fluid, but I drank it regardless.

Rosie sipped hers and gagged.

Lexi clapped her on the back. “It’s shit, I know, but just drink up and get over it. It’s time to party.”

“You told us this place was hip,” I said, tossing her an amused smile.

“Yeah well, I guess there are a lot of gassy bikers on Yelp. This place had five stars. ”

Five minutes later, we’d all finished our first drinks and were starting to relax—well, everyone except Rosie. She was still sipping her beer as if it were poison.