The Guy on the Right (The Underdogs 1)

“Houston.”

“Ah, big city boy,” she says, casting her eyes down.

“Not a fan of Houston?”

“Sure.” She licks her lips.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Meh, my dad lives there. We don’t talk much.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that.”

She shakes her head in annoyance. “Let’s not let this get weird, okay? No matter how hard Devin tries to rile us.”

“Fine with me.”

She raises her foamy beer. “To living our realest life. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

We finish our beers, and I head to the bar to order more. When I get back to the table, the girls are warding off the advances of a group of guys. I nudge my way in and pass out our beers.

“Thanks,” Laney spouts loudly, “but, you can go, we’re all set.” I meet all inquiring eyes and see the confusion in each of their faces. I shrug in a ‘what can I say?’ way.

“You’re serious? You’re with this guy?” The taller of the milk and grain fed three—who all have my height beat by a considerable amount—asks, scrutinizing me with clear skepticism.

“No offense taken,” I salute him with both my beer and stretched middle finger.

“I can guarantee he’s got several inches on you,” Devin joins in snidely, “and I mean horizontally.” She stretches out her hands in length for demonstration and gives me a wink.

I wink back.

The clueless dick leans in while snaking his arm around Laney. His hand slides dangerously close to her ass, just as she lifts a book of matches from the unused ashtray on the table.

“You ever seen a match burn twice?” she asks him with a sickly-sweet voice.

I bite my lips to keep from smiling as he leans in with a “No.”

She strikes a match studying it as if it has some mysterious power and he leans in watching it with her, oblivious and gullible to her charms before she shakes out the flame and presses it to his offensive hand. He jumps back with a curse.

“And now you have. Now kindly get your paws off me before I show you my next trick.”

“Whatever,” the guy grumbles before he lifts his chin in signal and the three of them stalk off.

“That’s right, boys, fuckoffsky!” Devin yells at their retreating backs.

She giggles and Laney rolls her eyes, grinning up at me. “She’s ten sheets. We’re going to have to call it an early night.”

“Oh no, you don’t! I’m living it up tonight. My fiancé will come fetch me when I’m damned good and ready. You will not police me, Elaine Cox.”

“I’m not babysittin’ you, either.”

“Lordy woman, you’re like the damn Hitler against happiness these days.” Devin raises her finger beneath her nose to make a fingerstache. “Is dat a smile, Fräulein? No smiling, Fräulein! Nech bin doust nech plaque!” she spits between us.

Laney jumps back and dramatically places a hand on her chest. “I’m pleasant. Damnit! I saw Drum Eatenton this morning at the Piggly Wiggly, and I smiled at the son of a bitch ‘fore I could help myself!”

I look between them, both confused and entertained, as they crack up.