Stay with Me (Wait for You, #3)(44)

“What?” Roxy all but shouted.

Reece and the boys looked up from their tables. I lowered my voice as I felt my cheeks burn. “Well, it’s probably good that I don’t really drink since I’m working at a bar.”

Roxy gaped at me. “You’ve never known the wonders of being shitfaced?”

“Getting tipsy is fun . . .” Katie trailed off as a good-looking man, maybe in his late twenties, saddled up to the bar.

“Whiskey. Straight up,” he ordered, his gaze flickering over me and then to Roxy, who reached for the short glass.

Katie’s gaze started at the tips of the man’s dark-colored boots, up his jeans, white shirt, and traveled straight up to his wavy ash-blond hair. “Damn, I’d like to get tipsy with that.”

The guy gave her a long, lingering look—a purely male look I’d seen tossed around a lot during my short time at the bar, that said he was all about seeing her naked. He then grinned before turning back, heading for the table Reece was sitting at.

“Anyway, your whole life is about to change,” Katie announced randomly. She plopped her chin back in her palm. “For real.”

I blinked once and then twice, and managed to ignore Roxy’s elbow that she shoved discreetly in my side. “Come again?”

“I’m telling you. Your whole life is going to change,” Katie continued, and Roxy bumped her hip into mine. “This summer is going to be epic.”

I had no idea where this conversation was going. “Well, my life has already kind of changed.”

“Oh, no. I’m not talking about what has already happened. It’s what’s about to happen.” Katie leaned onto the bar, and I thought her boobs were going to spill right out of the top of her sequined dress and wipe down the bar for me. It would be like a nipple wipe-down. “You see, I got the gift.”

The gift of stripping? “Um. What kind of gift?”

“Oh boy,” muttered Roxy.

Katie tapped a long, French manicured finger off her temple. “The gift. Sight. Psychic. Whatever they’re calling it nowadays. I get feelings about things and I just know things.”

Um . . .

I had no idea how to respond to that, and I wasn’t sure if she was serious, but Katie had always been odd, so I was going to go with yes, and Roxy was absolutely no help. From behind her glasses, she was squinting at the ceiling, her lips twitching as she pressed them into a firm line.

“So, um . . . did you have this gift in high school?” I asked.

Katie laughed. “No. I had an accident. Woke up the next day with the gift.”

“What . . . what kind of accident?” I asked, wondering if I should know or not.

“Oh Lordy Lord,” muttered Roxy.

“Fell off the damn pole.”

Oh my God. “The pole?”

She nodded as she ran a fingertip along the bottom of her lip. “Yep. Those damn bitches oil themselves up like they’re going to take a skinny-dip in a deep fryer, so sometimes the pole gets slippery if it doesn’t get wiped down. And trust me, after some of the girls, you want to wipe that pole down.”

My eyes widened, and all I could picture was a slicked-up stripper pole.

A short giggle escaped Roxy and ended in a forced, fake cough as she grabbed a bottle and then three shot glasses.

Oh no.

“Anyway, I got on the pole for a show. Busy night, too. On a Saturday, and I was doing this thing where I hang upside down.” Katie leaned back and raised her arms, and for a second I thought she was going to reenact the whole thing, and I had a feeling it was about to become a boob apocalypse. “And I was all like this.” Twisting her arms together, a rather convincing sexed-over look crossed her pretty face. “Just upside down, right?”

“Right,” I mumbled as Roxy poured brown liquid into the three shot glasses.

“Next thing I know, my legs are slipping down the pole, and I’m all like ‘Man down!’ or at least ‘Stripper down!’”

Another funny-sounding cough escaped Roxy as she slammed the bottle on the bar, and I forced myself to take several deep breaths as I murmured, “Oh noes.”

“Yep,” she said. “Cracked my head right off the stage. I was out like a belly button.”

Out like a belly button? What the what?

“And the rest is Long Island Medium history, but without seeing the dead people or the cool, poofy blond hair.”

“Really?” I gasped out.

She nodded. “So your life’s going to change. Ain’t going to be easy, but it’s going to change.”

I turned slowly and looked at Roxy.

“Shots anyone?” she offered.

“Shots! Shots! S-S-S-hots!” Katie shrieked, snatching one of the glasses as she bounced her shoulders back and forth. A freaking second later, her shot was gone.

“Impressive,” I said.

Katie grinned.

After Roxy took her shot, both of the girls looked at me, and I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

“Told you,” Katie said.

Roxy frowned at me. “I want to see you taste liquor for the first time, and I poured you the good shit.”

My stomach coiled tight. The idea of seriously drinking, of not having control and . . . I couldn’t even think about it.