There was one thing about Pete’s that hadn’t changed since the good old days though. The bartender. Ragtag Rita still called the shots here, and she nearly dropped a full glass of beer when she saw me. “Holy shit! Do my eyes deceive me, or is the D-Bag of all D-Bags before me?”
Smiling, I sidled up to the bar and sat on a stool. “It is so fucking good to see you, Reets.” And thank you for not mentioning Kellan.
With a sultry grin that promised a good time if I asked nicely, she set the beer she’d just poured in front of me. Rita was older, like, probably my mom’s age, but I’d still do her, or I would have, before Anna. She had that I’m desperate to reclaim my youth vibe about her.
Leaning over the bar, giving me a glorious view of her cleavage, she murmured, “So, hot stuff, you here alone, or are the rest coming in with you?” By the gleam in her eye as she watched the front doors, I knew she was waiting for Kellan to walk through them.
I couldn’t escape him no matter where I went.
I started chugging the beer and didn’t stop until it was finished. With a mighty belch, I slammed the glass down on the bar and wiped my mouth. Fuck yes. That was exactly what I’d needed. “Left the fuckers at home, where they belong. Keep the beers comin’. I want to walk out of here barely able to hold my guts in.”
She raised a painted-on eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise?”
“Get me drunk enough and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Shaking her head, she turned behind her to grab a bottle of Pendleton. “You need something a bit stronger than beer, babe.” She grabbed a glass, put a few chunks of ice in it, then poured the whiskey on top, well over the halfway point of the glass.
Yes, she was right, I did need more. And that was why I loved coming here. The people got me. “Thanks, Reets. You’re the best thing about this place, you know?”
She gave me a wink as I tilted the glass back. “Oh, honey, I’ve known that for years.”
As I took a large gulp of whiskey, I looked around the bar. Being Sunday, it was fairly empty. Just a few regulars who—I swear to God—came in every night, rain or shine. When they lifted their gazes from their drinks and saw me leaning back against the bar, they started approaching me. Then it was excited thumps on the back and shots all around. God, it was good to be home. I had no idea why I didn’t come back here more often.
While I caught up with old friends at a table near the stage, a group of sorority girls came in. I was buzzing my ass off by this point, and the familiar attraction hit me hard. Things were different now, but not different enough that I didn’t notice them and want to make them notice me. I was feeling a little invisible, and I needed some feminine encouragement to shake off that feeling. Nothing that Anna would get ticked about, just a bit of…worshipping was all I wanted.
I shifted my chair toward the girls’ table. “Hey, ladies!” I yelled. When they all twisted to look at me, I grabbed my cock and put on a smug smile. “See anything you like?”
They all gave me the look I loved to get from women. It was an expression of horror, disgust, and intrigue. If I was that brazen with my clothes on, what would I do with them off? That curiosity alone had scored me more chicks than I could count. But then their expressions changed. One by one, they glanced from me to the D-Bags shrine, then back to me. Once it clicked who I was, they started shrieking loud enough for every person in the bar to look at them.
“Oh my God! You’re in the band! You’re one of the D-Bags!”
They rushed over to me, faces alight with earnest interest. Slinking back in my chair, I casually raised a hand. “Yeah, I’m with the band.” The band of merry dream-killing assholes. I didn’t mention that though.
The girls circled around me like vultures settling in on their prey. Some kneeled to get down to my level, one made herself at home on my lap. The alcohol brimming through my veins really liked that.
While I soaked in the feminine attention, the girls started asking me questions. When what they were saying sank in, I found their presence less pleasant. “So, you’re around Kellan Kyle all the time…what is he like? Is he really that good looking? Does he ever…play around with other girls beside his wife? Could we get his phone number? Could you give him ours?” The girl on my lap dramatically let her head fall backward. “God that man is gorgeous. I would let him do absolutely anything he wanted to me…” She started running her hands over her breasts, and that was when I had enough. I shoved her off my lap, and she hit the floor with a thud.
All of her friends let out startled gasps, while the guys around me chuckled. The chick I’d dumped glared at me with eyes that were certainly channeling every evil spirit on earth. “What the fuck? Asshole!”
Not in the mood, I held up a hand. “Save your outrage for someone who gives a shit.”
Standing up, she brushed off her short skirt. Her friends swarmed around her, like they were forming a shield. A shield of indignation. “You may be famous and all, but you’re just an asshole jerk, like every other guy out there.”
“Except Kellan, right? You still want me to give him your number?” She hesitated, like she actually thought I was going to do it for her.
Not wanting anything more from these Kellan-worshipping girls, I turned away with a hard laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll get your number off the stall door,” I sniggered. “You can go.”
Something heavy hit me in the back of the head, and twisting around, I saw the girl clutching her purse to her chest as she shook in rage. She hit me with her purse? That was a new one. “You’re a fucking asshole, and I’m going to let the whole world know it.”