Invincible (A Centennial City Novel) - By Fionn Jameson Page 0,6
glasses with a rag that hadn’t looked like it’d been washed in centuries. He nodded at Jase, by now looking rather ridiculous with the hood still over his head. “You bring a date here? Classy, jackass, real classy.”
“She’s not my date.”
I followed him to the counter where he took a seat. For someone who wanted secrecy and privacy, sitting in the middle of a loud establishment didn’t seem quite right. “Are you sure this is the best place?”
“Are you kidding me?” He sounded incredulous. “This is the best place to talk. Martinez, scotch. On the rocks, if you can spare the ice. Glenfiddich.”
The bartender never stopped polishing the glass. At the rate he was going, there’d be a hole in it soon. “Can you pay? I seem to recall a couple unpaid tabs. Truth be told, the only reason you’re here is because Mimi’s soft on you. If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t even get three feet past the door.”
I held up my hand and took a seat on a rickety barstool that felt as though it would spill me onto the sticky, sawdusted floors without so much as a by-your-leave. “I can settle his tab.”
Seemed like the least I could do.
Martinez’s eyebrow went all the way up to his greasy hairline. “Good god, man. Looks like you’ve caught yourself a live one, this time. What’d the hell you do?”
“Like I said, she’s not my damn date.” Jase smacked a hand down on the counter, the one I scored with my dagger. It should’ve hurt. The lack of expression on his face only made me curious. “And I don’t need you to pay off my tab. I can pay for myself.”
I placed a bill on the counter. Money held little meaning for me. “This should cover our drinks, and some, if not all, of his tab.”
Martinez whisked the hundred dollar bill out from under my hand with a low whistle of appreciation. “Yeah, this should about cover it. Your lover boy over there isn’t too picky his drinks. He’d drink gasoline if he thought it’d get him drunk.”
“For Christ’s sake, Martinez! Shut the fuck up, man!”
I bet Jase was probably crimson red under his hoodie. I would be.
“Scotch on the rocks for you, Jason,” he said and turned strangely-hued amber eyes in my direction. Was this man one of the Other? His aura seemed fine, no demon taint, but those eyes…”What would you be having, ma’am?”
“Screwdriver,” I replied. “Virgin.”
“Right you are,” he replied with a hint of laughter in his low, baritone voice. “One exceptionally expensive glass of juice coming right up.”
“A virgin screwdriver?” Jason sneered. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s orange juice.” I pulled the sword, safely enclosed in a black nylon training bag, off my shoulders and leaned it against the bar next to me. Easier to get to if shit ever decided to hit the fan. “I don’t drink alcohol.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
Martinez slid over a glass of the amber colored liquid I had the grave misfortune of drinking. Once. “She’s Asian, dipshit. A lot of Asians don’t have a tolerance for it. If you had half a brain, you’d know dumb shit like that.”
I felt silly for being impressed. “I expect since you’re a bartender you see a lot of people like me here?”
He grinned and two golden canines caught the dim, dirty lights. “Most of the time, one drink and they’re done. Two and I’ve got to peel them off the floor.”
I shouldn’t have asked. “What about three?”
His grin widened. “Got to call a funeral home.”
That sounded about right. Of course, there were always anomalies, but most Asians I knew couldn’t hold their liquor even if you gave them a bucket.
Jase stared down at his glass. “No alcohol. That’s got to suck.”
The bartender poured me a tall glass of orange juice straight from the box. Minute Maid, no pulp. Just the way I liked it. “Only to assholes like you. Now shut up and drink before you make more of a fool out of yourself.”
“Fuck you, Martinez.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he replied and made his way down the counter where a couple of frat boys, judging from their letterman jackets, tried to hail him down.
I stared at the glass of orange juice, all the while aware of the brooding young man slumped next to me. “You’ve got a good friend there.”
He snorted. “Yeah. Whatever. He’s not bad.”
A couple of minutes passed, all of it incredibly noisy as the bar began to fill and slowly, I