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“Cassidy! You can’t just leave!” He was practically begging me.
Stopping, I turned around and looked at him. Raising a brow, I said, “Watch me.” And with that, I turned back and was on my merry way to get drunk.
He came scurrying after me, like a lost puppy through the tall grass. “There’s a protocol when planes land in places they aren’t supposed to. You can’t just leave.”
“Ah... I think I am.” I said, stepping onto the back patio of the bar. Tugging on the door handle, I pulled it open and the two of us slipped inside. Heading straight for a table, I sat down and pointed to the seat across from me. “Now, get on your phone there, call Cash and tell him to send a car, or I will head back to America after I get drunk.”
“Where did you come up with the name Cash? I... he’s not going to like that just so you know,” Raul said as he dutifully pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.
I snorted as I held two fingers up to the waitress. “I don’t like Cashel. Seriously, what kind of name is that?!” I dug my fingers into a bowl of peanuts in their shells.
“A very old Irish name,” he said as he placed his call.
The waitress came over and sat two pints of beer on the table. I pointed at Raul and whispered, “He’s paying. Oh, and can you please bring me a shot of anything that’s liquor?” I popped one of the nuts into my mouth, smiled my thanks as she nodded and headed back to the bar.
“What did he say?” I asked as I sucked the salt off the shell then broke it between my teeth and spit it in my hand.
“That’s gross,” Raul commented.
I looked up at him from examining the innards of the peanut shell and said, “What does that mean?”
“It means...”— he waved his hand at me. — “...you... what you’re doing is gross.”
“Well excuse me. But it’s not like I had a chance to grab anything to eat when you showed up at my door, four minutes early I might add!”
The waitress came back with a tray in her hand and a shot of amber courage. Not waiting for her to set it on the table, I relieved her of it by plucking it off the tray and sucking it back all in one smooth motion, just as his phone pinged.
“Come on, our ride is here,” he said, pulling his wallet out and standing up.
I watched as he tossed a few bills onto the table. Realizing he meant now, I of course protested, to no avail. “I... what... no! I’m not even feeling good yet. We can’t’ leave!”
“We are and I don’t care.” He came around and pulled my chair back. Then he picked up my Goodlife bag, slung it over his shoulder and ushered me to the exit.
Once outside, an identical black limo to the one he’d picked me up in, stood waiting for us with the back door held open by the driver.
The driver nodded and said, “Nice to see you’re safe, sir.”
Sir? Why would a driver call another driver sir?
Raul must have a sixth sense or something because before I could say a thing, he held up his hand to me. “Don’t ask.”
