Chapter 83

At a scarred corner table inside Shooters, Jason kicked back in his chair and absently rubbed the condensation on his beer bottle with his thumb. Pool balls clacked from games in session on the other side of the bar, the occasional thwaps from darts hitting boards adding to the mix. Stevie Nicks screeched from the jukebox, grating his ears, and making him long for some good classic rock. The scent of fried food clung to every available surface, blending with that of cheap perfume and a trace of desperation.

He was bored out of his skull. He and Parker had been rooted to their spots for the past hour, and Jason couldn't find a valid reason to hang around other than bro time. And that was wearing thin. He wondered what in the hell was wrong with him that not a solitary female in the joint looked interesting. Last occasion that had happened had been...

Well, never.

"She's pretty."