1
JACE
2022
Beer is magical.
No, truly—it is.
I should know—I’ve had enough of the stuff tonight. But still, I order another, ignoring the look the waitress gives me as she slams it down on the table, leaving a wet ring around the base.
She thinks I’ve had too many. Well, fuck what she thinks.
Brent raises his eyebrows, and I scowl, daring him to challenge me. He may be my older brother, but I’m fucked if he’s telling me what to do.
I’m twenty-four, bro.
Cameron sighs beside me and exchanges a look with Brent, not caring that I see it.
What the fuck?
“Can I drink without you fuckers judging me?” I say, hating that I’m slurring. What can I say, though? It’s been a tough week.
“We’re not judging you; we’re just not looking forward to picking you up off the floor later,” Brent says in that condescending tone he’s got down to a T. He’s the oldest of the five of us, and he likes to play Daddy. Cameron, the second eldest, narrows his gaze at me.
“Unless he ends up with some tourist again.” A wry grin spreads over his lips as he winks at me. “Dirty bastard.”
“Fuck off.” I drain half of my beer, scanning the bar to see if there’s anyone decent from out of town. She has to be from out of town because I’ve pretty much fucked everyone else. Or my brothers have. Not that I care, but I’d rather not have sloppy seconds. “Tourists are easier to deal with.”
“Easier to get rid of, you mean,” Cameron says. “I’m going home after this one.” He glances at Brent, who crosses his arms, eyeballing me.
“Mmm.”
I eyeball him right back and lean forward. His blue eyes bore into mine with a hint of warning, but me being me, I don’t heed it.
“I don’t need a babysitter, dickhead.”
Brent’s right eye twitches and Cameron cringes. He hates it when we get into each other’s grill, but no one asks him to be a referee. Brent cracks his knuckles and leans back, exhaling slowly.
“Watch your mouth, Jace. This dickhead wiped your ass and taught you how to use a spoon.” Brent shoves his stool back and storms off, leaving the bar much quieter than it was two seconds ago. Brent has that effect on people.
“So fucking sensitive,” I mumble, refusing to meet Cameron’s gaze.
“You’re a prick; you know that?” Cameron rises to his feet, looking down at me with narrowed eyes. “Mama would flip if she knew you spoke to him that way. Dad would beat your ass.”
I know he’s right, but I’m riding a prick wave today. So I raise my glass at the waitress and order another, cussing under my breath at her noticeable eye roll. Patrons pay her wages; what’s her fucking problem?
“Well,” I drawl, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. “It’s a good job they’re both dead then, huh?”
Cameron stares at me, shaking his head with disgust. I feel bad, but fuck him. He brought them up—not me. Throwing our dead parents in my face just because I’m drinking and relaxing. Dick.
“One of these days, you’ll realise how much he’s done for you. For all of us.” Cameron kicks the stool under the table, causing it to knock against my knees. “Until then, try not to be such a cunt.”
Cameron backs away, watching me as I flip him the bird. I should’ve come here with Boon, my younger brother. He’s more my style. But Boon is working on his car; nothing can tear him away when he’s with that thing. Not even beer and women.
My eyes drift around the bar once more, and I relax when I see my prize for the night.
Platinum blonde hair down to her ass with telltale dark roots, huge lips and a pair of tits I could get lost in. She’s holding a pool cue in her hand, flirting heavily with some fellas that look way too old for her. Her friend has her tongue down one of their throats, and I can see my girl working out which one to take home.
But then she catches my eye, and a smile curves on her lips, the cue moving from her hand to one of the men before she heads my way. I’m used to having this effect on women, but this girl is zeroing in on me rapid style.
But I like that.
“Hey there,” she breathes, the out-of-town twang soothing my senses. If I had to guess, I’d say she was from Texas, but I don’t plan to find out. “I’m Camilla.”
I don’t care.
“Jace.”
“Jace, what?” Camilla purrs, letting her fingers play with her necklace, drawing my attention to her tits. They’re a great size, no more than a handful. Her crop top leaves nothing to the imagination, and her wet-look leggings show everything off.
“White.” I finish my beer, slamming the glass on the table. Camilla doesn’t flinch.
“Like an angel?” Camilla tilts her head, her eyes drinking me like I’m free beer. “Are you a good boy, Jace?”
God, she’s desperate. But again, I don’t care. I just want to fuck, and this girl is gagging for it. So I lean closer, her cheap perfume invading my nostrils as she giggles, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
“If I were to be named after my behaviour,” I whisper, my tongue flickering against her earlobe. “They’d call me Lucifer Black.”
Camilla shivers, a soft moan leaving her eager lips as she steps closer. The beefy guys at the pool table have lost interest—you don’t compete with a White, not in this town.
“Well then, why don’t you take me home?” Camilla flutters her eyelashes at me, and I’m almost bored with how easy it is to get her into bed.
“I live with four men, Cammy.”
Her eyes light up and I almost snort at the idea of her thinking she could bed us all at once.
“Are they all as handsome as you?”
I smirk, tugging her close to me until our mouths are inches apart.
“Fuck no.”
Camilla giggles again and I suppress a yawn.
“Then come to my hotel room,” she offers, not even looking in her friends direction as she tugs me to the exit.
“How long are you here for?” I check, never too drunk to get involved with some chick I wouldn’t want to see again.
“This is my last night,” Camilla says, licking her lips. “Better make it memorable.”
