She let him go and he pulled himself up, only to be met by two large men who worked for Bambi as security. They took him by his arms and led him out of the bar.
The music picked up again.
People began talking loudly.
“I love her so goddamn much,” Rico whispered in awe.
“Yeah,” Chris said. “Question. Once she comes to her senses and breaks up with you, what’s the appropriate amount of time in the bro code to wait before I can ask her out?”
“Six months,” Tanner said.
“Make it seven,” Rico said. “Just so I have enough time to mend my broken heart. And when you do, always remember that I got there first.”
“Gordo,” Bambi said, a knowing grin on her face. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. These degenerates finally dragged you out, huh?”
“I’m wounded,” Rico said.
People underestimated Bambi. Her name. Her looks. The fact that she owned a bar when she herself was only a few years past legal drinking age. But she was almost as terrifying as the wolves and smarter than most gave her credit for.
And for whatever reason, she adored Rico. I wouldn’t cross her, but I did question her taste in men.
“Against my will,” I assured her.
She clapped her hands. “Good. I’m glad it worked. The table in the back is ready for you guys. Sit down and I’ll bring a couple of pitchers.” She kissed a dazed Rico on the cheek before she pushed her way into the crowd, hollering at people to get the fuck out of her way.
“Don’t know what she sees in your ugly mug,” Chris said, shoving Rico.
“My Latin flavor,” Rico snapped back, a goofy grin on his face. “She got tired of white bread.”
Tanner rolled his eyes but started leading the way toward the back of the bar.
Sure enough, there was an empty booth in the back, a folded card on the table saying it was RESERVED (DON’T SIT HERE IF IT’S NOT MEANT FOR YOU, ASSHOLES) in girlish pink script. She confused me greatly.
Rico shoved me onto the bench first, then slid in next to me. Tanner and Chris took the other side. Chris pulled a small notepad from a pocket lining the inside of his jacket. He opened it, putting it on the table before him. He frowned, patting his outside pockets, before pulling out a stubby pencil that looked like it’d been gnawed on repeatedly.
“Okay,” he said, opening the notepad to a fresh sheet of paper. “The meeting to get Gordo laid can now commence.”
And it had been going so well.
“What,” I said flatly.
“What is Gordo looking for in a man?” Tanner asked, sitting back on the bench.
“He needs to be a little mean,” Rico said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Can’t be sensitive, because Gordo is an asshole and would make sensitive people cry.”
“Seriously,” I said. “What.”
“Uh-huh,” Chris said, writing something down on the notepad. “Needs to be mean. Got it. What else?”
“Has to have facial hair,” Tanner said. “He has a kink for facial hair. Gotta have that beard burn on his asshole.”
“What in the fuck are you talking about—”
“Should probably be taller too,” Rico mused. “Gordo likes ’em big.”
“Hairy and fat,” Chris muttered, hunched over the notepad.
“Not fat,” Rico said. “Well, not that there’s anything wrong with being heavier.” He squinted at me. “You okay with some meat on the bones? Some cushion for your pushin’? I know you’re versatile. Why I know that, I don’t care to think about.”