Page 60 of Bastard Bartender

He grins. “Lucky guy. Have a good evening then.”

There’s something about being someone’s someone that feels really good. I mean, Nic and I aren’t a couple, but it is nice to say that man is mine. I haven’t had that in a while, and I enjoy it.

I’m sipping on the small straw of my cocktail when Nic comes over.

“Blue shirt, Breitling watch.”

I tilt my head in confusion.

Nic does have a lot of friends. Perhaps he wants me to meet a new one to pass the time with instead of sitting here by myself.

I grab my drink and slide off the stool, walking though the crowds of people dancing and talking. When I get behind the man in the blue shirt, I spy Destiny in her booth and mouth to her, Do you know him?

She leans back and appraises him dramatically. No, but I wish I did, she mouths back.

I laugh her off as I tap the man on the shoulder. He spins around, and the wide-eyed expression shows he’s interested in what he sees standing before him.

I extend a hand. “Hi. I’m Evette. Nic said I should come over and introduce myself.”

The man takes my hand and shakes it. “Who’s Nic?”

“The bartender. I assumed you were friends.”

He looks behind him and back, thumbing over his shoulder. “That guy? Never met him in my life.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I must have misheard what he said.”

I start to walk away, but he places a hand on my elbow and ushers me back. “Where are you going? No reason to be shy now. Evette, was it?”

I nod with a grin. “Yeah. Sorry. I just feel embarrassed now.”

“Don’t be. I’m Sebastian. It’s nice to meet you. I see you have a drink, but I’d like to buy your next one.”

Running a hand over my head, I ask, “What did you say your name was?”

“Sebastian. It’s a family name. Some people equate it to the crab from Little Mermaid or that character from Cruel Intentions. Oh dear, I think I’m showing my age with those references.”

He’s laughing at his joke, but I’m not.

“You didn’t happen to use your credit card to pay for your drinks, did you?”

“Yeah, I opened a tab. Why?”

My blood boils beneath the surface of my skin.

Sebastian.

S.

The next letter in my alphabet-dating experiment.

That fucker is setting me up.

“Excuse me,” I say as politely as I can while my jaw is clenched and my eyes are beady. My feet clank louder than the music as I stomp back to the end of the bar, where there’s an opening, and stand with my drink in my hand and my spine ramrod straight.

Nic saunters over with an easy smile. It’s a handsome smile on the most gorgeous face I’ve ever seen.

And it’s smug. Too smug, especially as he casually asks, “How did it go? He didn’t have a ring, and he paid with an Amex black card. Bonus: he’s an S, which is—”

Nic doesn’t get to finish his sentence because I throw my drink in his face, causing him to freeze and bear a what the fuck expression.

“What the fuck, Evette?” His words match his face, but I couldn’t care less.

“You jerk!”

“What did I do?”

“What did you do?” My question is rhetorical and only incites me more. My heart races, and there’s a simmering deep down in my gut that is going to burst at any second. “You diabolical asshole!”

With force, I slam the glass down on the table and storm out of the bar. I get a few oohs and oh shits thrown my way as I push through the crowd and out the front door. A bouncer calls after me, but I’m already walking in the parking lot with my hand deep in my purse as I search for my car keys.

“Evette! Wait!” Nic shouts from behind me, his feet pounding as he rushes toward me.