Hiya Readers
Okay, folks, here’s the first chapter of book three!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am way to excited about sharing this, but there is so much about this book that I’m happy about. I’ll be posting the first few chapters in preparation for the launch.
As a side note, those who purchase the ebook directly from me before the official launch on July 26th will get the book a week early and at a 25% discount!
ALSO! If you haven’t read the first book yet, click here to snag a free ebook copy 🙂
xoxo Dana
Chapter One
Please don’t hate me, Prue’s text says. I can’t drive.
After each failed date, she drives her silver Honda Pilot to my house so she can regale the most interesting parts of her evening, especially the point of its demise. Tonight, her date Graham insisted they check out some of the local color—he’s new in town—and they went to a bar. Apparently, she’s drunk.
Only when I reach the address do I realize why she asked me not to hate her.
Nestled between the other buildings, the bar is a narrow, two-story brick structure less than a block from the square. It’s dirty and grungy, and bluegrass music spills from the open door. Pretty flags emblazoned with a red rose hang from the eaves, and below, in a gold serif font, the words ‘Draft Horse’ line the bricks.
That text was not enough of a warning.
The floor squeaks when I pause at the threshold to examine my new surroundings.
The long room is divided with tables on one side and the bar on the other. Beyond the bar, a door leads to what I assume is the kitchen, another to storage. Toward the back, there’s an old-style jukebox and a few foosball tables, plus a sign for the restrooms. A narrow set of stairs leads to the top floor.
Most of the tables are empty, and a few people perch on barstools. But Prudence is nowhere to be seen.
“Oh my gosh, Billie, you’re here!”
Some of the patrons, however, are familiar.
My eyes drift to the bar again, where Jimmy sits on a stool by the taps, his brown hair especially unruly from wearing his work hat all afternoon. But he’s not the person who spoke. In fact, he barely looks up from his soda.
Beside him, Micaela’s copper face lights up the moment she sees me, and she motions me closer. Her long golden-brown hair shimmers under the bar’s pendant lights as she nudges a section over her shoulder.
Behind the taps, Xander moves to check on a customer at the other end of the bar. He doesn’t spare a glance for me.
Micaela clutches my arm, and I cringe at the sudden contact. “Jimmy said you wouldn’t make it, but I knew you’d come.” When she giggles, her face flushes. “I’m so glad you’re here. I need someone else to tell him how much of an idiot he is.”
Jimmy sends me a weak smile and busies himself with cleaning his thick, black-rimmed glasses. “She’s being nice. You know my writing abilities aren’t that great.”
I open my mouth, but Micaela beats me to the punch.
“I’m not ‘being nice,’ you idiot.” She plucks up her cocktail and downs what little remains. “Your lyrics are great, Jim, and your voice isn’t half bad. Billie, you convince him to start a band.”
I lift an amber hand—
“I don’t know what that entails.” Jimmy shoves his glasses back on, pressing the rims into his freckled cheeks, and spins toward her, crossing a leg over his lap. “I play guitar. You need a drummer and a lead vocalist, maybe a keyboardist. I don’t have connections.”
“We’ll make connections.” Her thin fingers tighten into a fist atop the bar. “If you need a bass guitarist, you know I’m game. And yeah, a drummer would be a good idea.”
He scoffs. “A lead vocalist, Micaela.”
“You can sing. I’ve heard you sing.” She tugs on my arm again. “Jim’s got a good voice, right?”
I nod, but he doesn’t look at me.
“My voice may not be ‘half bad,’ but it’s really only appropriate for backup vocals. We’d need a lead vocalist.”
“Let’s get one!” She giggles again and finally releases me, but uncertain, I hover. “Have you told Billie about your latest song? It was so sweet and romantic. I wish somebody would write something so beautiful about me.” Her line of sight gravitates toward Xander, who hunches over the bar and grins at a petite girl with feather earrings and a strapless dress.
He glances over but looks away the moment his gaze lands on me.
“Oh, come on.” Jimmy pinches his eyes shut. “There has to be a really awesome guy out there waiting for you…”
Then, Xander slides over, a pint glass in hand. Shiny black bangs stick out from his backwards cap. “If you’re trying to drop a hint, he won’t get it.” When he pulls the tap, thick frothy beer fills the tilted glass.
Micaela’s wide eyes jolt between them. “What? No, I’m not. I mean, I’m not interested in Jimmy—no offense.” Her ruby-red lips morph into a tight, apologetic smile, but he remains unfazed. “Besides, it’s not like I’d have a chance, right?”
Jimmy flushes. “I don’t know why you say that…”
She snorts. “Oh, please.” She visibly relaxes as Xander carries the pint to its destination, then turns her attention to me. “Seriously, have you read his latest song? It’s beautiful.”
I shake my head.
Jimmy’s completely red. “Come on. Billie’s not interested in my cheesy lyrics. Can’t we talk about something else?”
The knot in my stomach tightens.
But Micaela giggles. “Fine, fine. But whoever she is, she’s very lucky.”
I don’t know where he got the idea I don’t want to hear about his music because he primarily writes love songs. If anything, I’m deathly curious who they’re about.
At first, I thought they were about Cynthia Allen, but true to his words, he moved on. He hasn’t mentioned her name since May, and during the few times she’s hung out with me and Prue, he says hi and moves on.
He’s preoccupied with someone else, but I don’t know who.
“Billie, sit.” Micaela squeezes my shoulder and nods toward the open chair. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Oh, no—”
“Xander! Billie needs a drink.” She twists, searching for him, but he’s distracted by the girl with the feather earrings again. Micaela’s pale when she turns back.
I step away. “Thanks for offering, but I’m not twenty-one yet.”
“So?” She blinks several times, forcing her happy demeanor to return. “You’ll have a soda, right? Hang out with us.”
I take another step. “I don’t have time for a drink.”
Her face falls. “I thought you came to hang out with us.” She lets out a puff of anxious air, and her fingers toy with the rosary at her collar. She’s never without it.
At her child-like, drunken pout, I have the urge to sit and talk and drink, but Jimmy didn’t invite me like he told her. Because Jimmy knows better than to invite me to hang out with him and his new best friend at the bar where Xander spends every working hour hitting on scantily clad women.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m looking for someone.”
Her lips curl up with excitement. “Do you have a date?”
Before I can answer, Xander returns, focused on me. “You want a 7 Up?”
“No, I came for Prue.” My eyes dart around the room as if searching again, but she hasn’t magically appeared while Micaela distracted me. “She said she was here.”
Xander inclines his head toward the back. “Upstairs.”
I send the group a quick thanks before heading toward the staircase. Micaela is the only one who reciprocates.
On the top level, I do a double-take. This is nothing like the ground floor.
Downstairs is full-on pub, completed by their Kentucky Derby theme—the roses, the bluegrass, pictures of stallions. But up here, everything is industrial and shiny. Instead of the rustic browns, the red is now paired with sleek blacks and grays. The barstools and booths are covered in a red velvet, and the counter is a trim stainless steel.
Prudence, dressed in the same bustier top and white skinny jeans as when she left my house after class, leans against the bar, flushed and giggling. The guy next to her presses a hand to her bare shoulder.
I freeze.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
He spots me first, a hint of surprise in his brown eyes, and pulls away. Like always, he hides his shock behind an obnoxious grin and his thick, ruddy-brown beard.
But Prue doesn’t notice me until I tap her on the shoulder. She spins and throws her arms around me. “What took you so long? It’s been hours!”
I roll my eyes. “It’s been twenty minutes max.”
She grips my shoulder. “I knew you’d come for me.” Her once well-managed hair is unkempt and loose, and beneath the chestnut locks, her olive face is flushed. How much has she had to drink?
Despite myself, I smile. “What else would I do on a Friday night? Who’s your friend?”
Prudence turns to him again. “This is Brent.” She beams in my direction. “Not my date. Graham left ages ago, and thank fucking God. You should’ve heard him, Billie. I was late by like two minutes, and he kept joking about how I must’ve gotten lost. I told him my best friend’s roommates work downstairs, but he kept saying I must have a terrible sense of direction.”
I cringe. “Sounds like a keeper.”
“Oliver Wood’s got nothing on him.” She tugs me to her side. “Brent, though, was nice enough to keep me company while I waited for you. That asshole—Graham—ordered me a Long Island. They’re really strong.”
On the bar, her free hand toys with a half-full Hurricane glass. The liquid inside is a deep crimson.
“What are you drinking now, Prue?”
Her brow furrows as she lifts the glass. “I’m not sure, but it’s delicious. Brent ordered it.”
My nostrils flare.
“It’s a zombie.” His tone is matter-of-fact.
“Brent!” Prue tugs on me again. “Have you met my best friend?”
He flashes me his typical charm. It almost seems genuine. “How are you, Billie?”
I don’t bother answering.
And Prudence is too drunk to pick up on the awkwardness. She turns to me with a quivering lower lip. “I’m sorry I ruined your alone time. I know how much you like nights when they’re both working.” She throws a short, “Her roommates are kind of jerks,” to Brent before giving me her full attention. “And I’m sorry I’m drunk. I didn’t mean to be. I swear, I only had the two drinks. Normally, my tolerance is a lot better than this.”
“It’s fine. I was watching a movie.”
But she’s already turning to Brent. “You should’ve met her roommate last year. Now, she was a piece of work…”
I shove my hand under my glasses and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Shit, Prue, come on.”
Before she can say anything else, I hook my arm around her waist and help her down. She snatches her purse from the bar and sends him an emphatic wave as we struggle toward the stairs. Even with all our evenings at the campus gym, I can barely support her.
Of course, they don’t have an elevator. Because a long, narrow staircase is exactly what drunk people need.
Today is not my lucky day.
“What’s wrong?” Prue grumbles.
“Nothing’s wrong. Don’t worry about it.”
She stumbles to a halt, not far from the stairs. “I may be drunk, but I know you. What’s wrong?”
Wherever Brent is, Dahlia Finnick isn’t far behind. I see her enough during our photography class, though I keep my distance. She is the last person I want to run into at a bar.
“We need to go.” I reach for her again. “You’ve had too much to drink.”
Prue scoffs. “No, I haven’t. I told you. Only two.”
“I believe you, but you don’t know what was in the drink Brent Moulder got you. He’s not someone you should talk to in a bar while you’re drunk.”
She tilts her head, her mouth and nose scrunched together. “What’re you talking about, Billie?”
I run a hand through my auburn afro, untangling a few strands. “Give me your keys.”
Prue lifts her purse and fumbles through the contents. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re driving.”
“That’s why you called me.”
She pauses to laugh. “How else would I get home? I’m not fucking walking around downtown in three-inch heels while I’m drunk—doesn’t matter how small this town is.”
I cast a skeptical glance toward Brent, sipping his beer. “What would you have done if I missed your text?”
“Assume you’re dead.” Finally, she yanks the keys free and tosses them to me. “Seriously, there are plenty of people who could drive me. You’re just my number one choice.”
I frown. “Please don’t tell me you’d let Brent drive you somewhere.”
Prue levels me with a glare. “How stupid do you think I am?”
“He’s not a nice person—”
“Billie, I’d ask someone who works here. Jimmy and Xander may be assholes right now, but they’re still reliable. Neither of them would put the moves on me while I’m drunk.”
My hand clamps around the keys. “They’re not assholes. They never did anything wrong.”
Prue’s face contorts into a stern glare. “Neither of them talks to you. We got home from study abroad, and Xander walked out of his bedroom with a skanky girl while you were unpacking.”
“We broke up in March. He’s allowed to sleep with someone in July. And I’m doing fine.”
“It doesn’t matter how ‘fine’ you’re doing. That was an asshole move.”
“He didn’t know when I’d get back. And what would be the right way to go about that?” My voice is quiet over the sultry jazz. “Besides, that was four months ago. I’m over it.”
She scoffs. “Well, assuming you’re not lying—and you’ve yet to convince me—it doesn’t change anything with Jimmy.”
I bite my lip.
“You two never talked while we were in France. He’s barely said a word to you since you got home. He’s supposed to be your best friend.”
I level my gaze with hers. “Prue, it’s okay.” I steady my voice and my breathing, and she calms to match me. “Jimmy and Xander—they’re fine. You don’t need to get all worked up about this on my behalf.”
“Somebody should,” she whispers. “You might be trying to be the better person here, but Xander didn’t watch you cry yourself to sleep that night. Somebody should be mad.”
“Come on.” I tug on her hand, and she allows me to lead her toward the stairs. “Let’s go to the house and finish my movie. You need to sober up.”
Someone slams into my shoulder.
I stumble to a stop.
Dahlia Finnick’s dark-brown eyes narrow in the low lights.
All I can do is stammer.
She sidesteps us and continues toward the bar, where Brent is waiting.
One Response
Holy moly! Who else is ridiculously for the release?! I can’t wait to read more about Xander! Well, Billie and Jimmy too… but it’s all about Xander for me! 😂😂.
Who are your favorite characters?