Brutally Beautiful(5)

“Sure, you bet, love,” he mumbled, walking away to grab a bottle each of vodka, rum, and tequila off the top of the shelf. From the middle shelf, he pulled out some gin and another bottle of something I couldn’t read and some lemon-lime soda. Then he just started pouring everything together. I was almost illegally above the limit of drunkenness just watching him make the damn drink. He placed two small cocktail napkins neatly in front of us and went back to mixing, I toyed with the idea of telling him to save his fancy little beverage linens, because I didn’t intend on taking my drink from my lips long enough to set it down, but I didn’t. Mostly because I didn’t want anyone really to know the pain I was in.

“Dibs,” Bree whispered softly next to me. As if I had a chance in hell with her around, me Miss Plain Jane Smarty Pants compared to her Miss Lottie too Hottie. Don’t misunderstand me, I was attractive, but Bree fell into the blonde-bombshell-outrageously gorgeous adjective pile when people described her, and I got thrown aimlessly into the awkward-yet averagely-decent-looking-brainiac pile.

Snorting out a laugh, I nudged her with my elbow. “Sure, he’s all yours. He’s way too pretty for my taste. Besides, I think I’m done with men for a while.” Rubbing my clammy palms down the pant legs of my jeans, I bit at the one tiny part of my lip that didn’t hurt, “I’m feeling kind of buzzed and I didn’t even drink yet.”

“Adrenaline. Loss of blood. Don’t change the subject, I’m still calling dibs,” she whispered.

Nope. I think it’s freedom.

The bartender slid two glasses full of his dark concoction across the lacquered length of the bar, “Here you go, loves. This drink is called an Adios, Motherf*cker. Which, I hope to God you both said to whomever the hell put their hands on you,” he said, leveling a pair of serious-as-hell blue eyes at us.

Adios, Motherf*cker.

Bree held up her drink to mine and clinked her glass against it. “To new beginnings,” she whispered.

“To freedom,” I whispered back.

Adios, Motherf*cker.

I watched as the beautiful bartender walked away from us, moved around the bar talking to the other patrons and grabbing plates of food off their tables. He carried them through a door into a back area and reappeared with other steaming plates of food to serve. There were no other employees around.

We sipped our drinks in silence, both of us most likely trying to forget the last twenty-four hours of our lives. But, man, I wanted to forget a lot more.

Bree’s eyes followed the bartender like a little lost dog, “So what do you think? Want to stay for a while? The scenery is nice.”

“Oh, sure. Yeah. I always wondered what it would be like to live in a freezer.”

“It’s not that cold. And we’re far enough.”

“Jen…dammit…Bree….what the hell kind of name is Bree anyway? It’s like twenty degrees and it’s October. Across the damn world would not be far enough.”

“Germs don’t live in cold environments? We could dye your hair black. I could use a whole new hairstyle and look. It will be like playing hide and seek.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious. We have plenty of money and no one would ever look for you in the middle of the woods. They’d try looking in major cities and that’s if anyone is even looking,” she whispered.

I almost spit my drink all over her. “So you think nobody will be looking for me?”

“All I’m saying is that we could blend in here and the bartender is really gorgeous. What do you think? He seems nice, right?”