“Don’t worry,” Jeff said. “My tip is always oversized.”
The waitress shook her head, but she had to hold back a laugh. If Steve had said a line like that, he would have been slapped. Not that he could ever actually say something like that in the first place.
The waitress walked off.
Jeff pointed to Steve’s gla.s.s. “Get at that beer, b.i.t.c.h! It ain’t gonna drink itself!”
Cooper rolled his eyes. “By b.i.t.c.h, he means Mister Stanton.”
“Here,” Jeff said, picking up his gla.s.s, “let me show you how a real man does it.” He tipped the gla.s.s back and drank the whole thing in one pull. He set it down hard enough on the table to make the other drinks slosh a little. He belched.
“Boom!” Jeff pointed at Cooper’s mug. “Coop, get to gettin’! You, too, Steve-O! Knock it back!”
Steve glanced to the bar, to the girl, saw that she was still watching, still smiling. He didn’t want the girl to think he was a wimp, so he lifted the gla.s.s.
“I have to drink the whole thing?”
Cooper shook his head. “No, you don’t.” He shot Jeff a stern look. “This isn’t a frat party, right, Jeff?”
“Phi-drinky-drinky,” Jeff said. “What’s the matter, Steve? Are you a puh-puh-puh-p.u.s.s.y?”
Steve looked at the full gla.s.s of beer in his hand. If Jeff had done it, then so could he. He tipped the gla.s.s back. He swallowed once, twice, then his throat got so cold but he kept swallowing. Jeff screamed “go-go-go” as Steve drained the gla.s.s and set it on the table.
Jeff raised his arms high. “Winnah!”
Cooper rolled his eyes again, but clapped lightly. “You two can hang out all night. Clearly you’ve got the same testosterone problem.”
Jeff stood. “Boys, don’t go anywhere.” He walked to the bar, leaving Steve and Cooper alone.
“So, Steve,” Cooper said, “you having a good time?”
Steve nodded. His head felt all heavy and loose. “Yes. But I think I may have drunk too much.”
“I can see that. I’ll make sure you get back to the hotel safe. Now, you want to tell me what was going on back on the Mary Ellen?”
Steve felt the elation drain from his body. Why did Cooper have to bring that up now?
Cooper leaned across the table. “If Bo Pan is messing with you, maybe Jeff and I can help.”
He looked so honest, so open. Steve thought about telling him the whole story, right there and then.
And then Jeff returned, the girl with gla.s.ses at his side. Jeff slid in next to Cooper, the girl with gla.s.ses sat down next to Steve.
“Boys, meet Becky,” Jeff said. “Becky just so happens to be one of my favorite names.”
Cooper seemed to forget all about the discussion; he looked hungrily at Becky. “A lovely name to accompany a lovely face,” he said.
Becky laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. Her blond hair bounced and swayed.
Jeff and Cooper seemed so at ease with girls, so natural, like they’d done this a thousand times.
Jeff reached across the table and grabbed Steve’s shoulder.
“Steve, Becky and I have a bet,” he said. “She bet me that you can’t drink a shot of Jäger.”
Cooper groaned. “Jesus, Jeff, what are you trying to do, kill our boss?”
Jeff slapped the table. “She didn’t think our boss could drink his shot! I said, Becky, you are a dirty wh.o.r.e with the diseased s.n.a.t.c.h of a smelly pirate hooker!”
Steve’s jaw dropped, but Becky laughed even harder. She looked at Steve, smiled a s.e.xy smile.
They were calling him boss … for Becky’s benefit? To make him seem more important in her eyes?
The beautiful girl put her elbows on the table, leaned closer. Her shoulder touched Steve’s.
“You guys are way older than he is,” she said. “Are you sure he’s your rich boss, or are you running a line on me?”
Cooper put his hand on his chest. “Madam, you offend me. I a.s.sure you, Mister Stanton has more money than we could count in a week. Maybe even two weeks. It’s just that much. Not only is he smart, well-off, insanely good-looking, staying at the Trump Tower because he’s fancy and fine, but he’s also an adventurer — we’re back from several days at sea.”
Steve held up a finger. “It was a lake.”
“Several days at lake,” Cooper said. “Right you are, boss.”
The waitress returned, plunked down four shot gla.s.ses filled with black liquid. Those were definitely more than one and a half ounces.
Becky smiled at Steve. “The bet is that if you can drink one of these, I have to kiss you.”
Steve stared. He swallowed. “And if I can’t?”
Becky leaned even closer. “Then you have to kiss me.”
Yes, this was really happening. Drunk or not, this was really happening.
Steve grabbed the gla.s.s, tilted his head back and poured it all in. His mouth rebelled almost instantly — how awful! It tasted like moldy licorice. It burned going down. He felt his stomach roil, but he wasn’t going to throw up in front of the prettiest girl he’d ever spoken to.
He turned the gla.s.s over and set it on the table, the awful taste still clinging to the inside of his mouth and his nose as well.
Becky put her hand on his chest, pushed him lightly until his back pressed against the booth seat. She turned to her right, then raised slightly and slid backward into Steve’s lap.