Chapter One
Jade
One more shot and if I can’t find a guy, I’m saying ‘fuck it’ and going home with Buzzy my vibrator. Why did I come to a sports bar? I wave down Mr. I-Can’t-Make-A-Screwdriver Bartender.
“A shot of Jack and another one.” I jiggle my empty cup.
“What were you drinking again?”
“Fuck, there are only six people in this whole damn bar and you can’t remember my drink.” I push my hand through my curly black hair. “A screwdriver.”
The bartender looks pissed at me, but he nods and goes to make my drink. I look around the bar and most of these guys are watching the damn hockey game. I roll my eyes as the bartender brings my drink and shot back. Jack, vodka, and orange juice don’t mix well, but it keeps me numb enough to find the only guy who’s sitting by himself. He has a wedding ring, but that shit doesn’t mean anything to me. Besides, he’s looking at my tits more than my eyes.
Yep, I’m used to that.
I slam my drinks down, toss a few bills on the bar, and stagger over to Mr. Combover.
“Here with anyone?”
He looks me up and down, and I stick my chest out a bit. “No.”
“Got a car?”
He smirks, and I realize he knows where I’m going with this. Most guys do. “Yes.”
“I have the condoms if you have the time.”
“You a cop?” He tries to look all mean-like at me.
I roll my eyes. I’ve beat up bigger guys than this ass in preschool. You know if I had gone to preschool. “Do I look like one?”
“Let’s go.”
I follow Mr. Combover out to the parking lot where he unlocks a mini-van. A mini-van? Yep, married. I bet he has a pretty little house in the suburbs with his perfect Betty Crocker wife that I’ve seen in the movies.
As I climb into the back of it, my last thought is…all men are the same. At the end of the day, they are all pricks who only care about themselves.
~
“Jade, you working tonight?”
I look at my mother, lighting another cigarette. Her words are slurring already and it’s barely three in the afternoon.
“No, I’m not. Have you eaten?” Not that I should care if the bitch has had food today or not.
“I grabbed some peanuts at the bar.” She stands and staggers to the fridge. When she opens it, all I see is a bottle of vodka and a six-pack of cheap beer.