The Ninth Inning (The Boys of Baseball #1) - J. Sterling Page 0,76
with a grin.
Then, bartender David appeared, balancing five full glasses of beer and five shots of sake—whatever the hell that was. He distributed them, and I stared.
“How do we drink them?” I said, sniffing the sake shot. “It smells kind of like vodka.” A hint of worry filtered through me before I waved it off, knowing that I wouldn’t get drunk while I was trying to work. Beer was one thing. Beer I could handle.
“It’s technically a rice wine,” Jason said as he reached for his shot glass and held it above his beer.
Charley explained, “Normally, we’d balance the sake on top of chopsticks that we put over the beer. Then, we’d hit the table with our fists so that they crashed into the beer, but there are no chopsticks, so we’ll just drop them in.”
“Drop it in? The whole thing?” I asked.
They all took their shot glasses and dropped it, glass and all, inside the already-full beer. The contents spilled out, making a huge mess as they reached for their beer and drank it all like it might disappear if they took too long.
I dropped my sake shot into my beer, but unlike the guys, I sipped the contents, making sure I liked it and not wanting to get in over my head. Lauren wasn’t here, and Cole was away. I knew it wouldn’t be smart for me to get drunk while I was out alone … what with the kidnapping cartel and everything.
“Like it?” Charley asked.
I nodded. “It tastes like”—I looked around at the rest of the band, who was all waiting for my response—“beer,” I said.
They cracked up like I was the funniest person on the planet, but I’d meant it because I couldn’t taste the sake at all.
Throughout the evening, bartender David made sure that I never had to ask for a cold beer. If my glass was half-empty, a new, fresh one would show up from one of the servers. Although I knew that I could handle my beer consumption better than most, I still made sure to sip it, not wanting to get in over my head. I also kept count—or at least, I tried. I left half-filled glasses in my wake as I filmed the band, taking videos and at least a hundred new pictures of them dominating the stage, a rambunctious crowd in the foreground.
Somewhere into the band’s second set, my head started to spin, and the ground grew fuzzy. A minute earlier, I’d been sober, and now, I was way beyond being simply buzzed. I’d gone from feeling in control to feeling like I had none in the span of a breath. I wobbled on my feet before bracing against a chair for balance. I couldn’t believe I’d gotten so drunk and seemingly out of nowhere. How did that happen from drinking beer?
I needed to leave.
“Need a ride home?” a deep voice asked.
I looked up, meeting Logan’s eyes as he jangled his keys in front of me.
When did he get there? I wondered before my whole world went dark.
Blacked Out
Christina
I woke up the next morning, my head pounding like a hundred drummer boys lived inside of it and my stomach turning. Glancing down at my body, I noticed that my shoes were gone, but my socks were still on. Aside from my top being on inside out, I was fully clothed, lying on top of my comforter.
I had no idea how I’d gotten home last night. The last thing I remembered was … I searched my mind for the last piece of information it would give me …
Logan?
Logan had been there, and he’d offered me a ride home, but there was no way I would have said yes. Even in my drunken state, I had known better than to leave with him.
Didn’t I?
My phone flashed, and I reached for it, noticing the handful of unread texts and number of missed phone calls. I must have been dead to the world to sleep through all of those. Unread messages from Cole sat there, and I pressed his name first. As I read them, my stomach twisted.
I’m starting to get worried. You’re just busy working, right?
Haven’t heard from you in hours, and you aren’t checking your messages.
I’m hoping it died. Not you. The phone. Ha.
Okay, Christina, please call me when you get this. I’m freaking the fuck out. I love you.