One More Time

I looked up again, and saw that Casey was making her way toward us to get us some drinks, which couldn't have come at a better time. I had the sudden urge for something stiff to take the edge off.

“Fuck, man,” Greg said. “I'm really sorry to hear that.”

Casey asked, “Sorry to hear what?”

Greg answered before I had the chance to shut him down. “His old man is dying.”

“I didn't say he was dying.”

I flinched as I remembered what Dad had said. It was terminal, even if the tumor was benign. Casey looked at me, wide-eyed as if she was trying to decide whether or not she should stick around. There was nothing but kindness in compassion in those big doe-eyes of her.

“It's okay,” I said. “It's a brain tumor, it's benign, but he's still terminal. He's got a few years left in him, at least.”

Casey's eyes softened, and she said, “I can come back, if you need to talk to your friend.”

“No, it's fine. I need a drink,” I said, smiling up at her. “Can I have the usual?”

“Scotch on the rocks, got it,” she said and turned to Greg. “And for you?”

Greg slid over in the seat, making it obvious that he was checking out her ass, his neck craning to get a view. A slick, greasy smile made its way across his face and I just shook my head.

“I'll take whatever you're offering, sugar,” Greg said, his voice dripping with suggestion.

The smile on Casey's grew, and she spoke with the sweetest voice possible. “You couldn't handle what I have to offer up, sugar.”

The last word dripped with sarcasm, and I stifled a laugh. She continued grinning down at him, as if everything was fine. Greg, on the other hand, didn't take a hint easily. If anything, he seemed encouraged by what she said. Dumbass.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, sounding like a greasy, used car salesman. “Well, I'd certainly like to try –”

He reached out to grab her ass, but she was faster than he was. A lot faster. She grabbed his arm with the well-practiced ease of a woman used to fending off creepers. She gripped his arm and held it tight.

“Listen, I just had a run-in with Jon Lincoln – you know, the big asshole football star that's built like The Hulk?” she sneered. “And you've got nothing on him. If I can make him run out of here like a little bitch, you sure as hell don't stand a chance, dude. So, do yourself a favor and back off.”

I tried not to laugh. Greg finally got the hint, a flash of embarrassment in his eyes.

“It's alright. I was only joking around anyway,” he said, sounding a little more subdued than angry. “Give me a rum and Coke.”

“Sounds good,” Casey said. “So, one pussy frat boy drink, and a real man's Scotch on the rocks. Comin' right up.”

She winked at me as she turned to go get our drinks. Greg leaned back and licked his lips, checking out her ass as she walked away.

“She's totally into me,” he declared, about as self-aware as a rock.

“Sure, man,” I chuckled.

My own eyes, almost seeming to be acting of their own volition, followed her back to the bar. She did have a nice ass and curves for miles. I couldn't blame Greg for wanting to check her out.

“Nah, seriously, she's playing hard to get,” he said. “But, before too long, she'll be begging for my cock. Just wait and see, brother. Wait and see.”

I rolled my eyes and reminded myself to never, ever tell him about needing to knock a girl up for my inheritance. The last thing I needed was him trying to push me on every hot woman that walked our way. Hell, he was already doing that and didn't know my inheritance rested on me having a baby within the next year.

Some things are better left unsaid between friends. Especially when you had a friend like Greg.

“I'm going to take a piss,” he said.

Casey was right. Greg still acted like an immature little frat boy. In most ways, he was. He never had to grow up and out of that mentality because his dad always pulled his ass out of the fire when needed. It was needed pretty often.

We'd gone to college together – not that Greg had actually tried to succeed in college. He'd just showed up to party and join his dad's fraternity. Partying and girls were the only things he'd been interested in, knowing he was set for life. Being the only child of a billionaire had to be nice. It had to give you a sense of security – and had to kill any desire or sense of urgency to succeed on your own.