Lure (21 page)

"That girl's tip just keeps getting bigger and bigger," Shells said.

"Mine, too," Nick said, and this time Kim did kick him under the table.

Shells ignored them and watched Trish walk away, her head moving in time with the sway of Trish's rear end. "Work it, work it," Shells said, and she was pretty sure Trish's ass wiggled just a little extra. "Mmm, mmm, mmm. I gotta get me some of that."

"Horn dog," Sam said with a sideways grin, and Shells did nothing to correct her.

"The girl's got good taste," Nick said. "You gotta give her that."

Kim cast a look over her shoulder and shrugged, "Not bad."

Nick nearly choked on his pizza, but most of the talking faded as the pizza cooled to the perfect temperature. Trish kept their drinks filled, and Sam heard dangerous words from Shells, "How about bringing us a pitcher of beer."

"How can you go wrong with pizza and beer?" Nick asked.

Sam questioned the wisdom but couldn't resist a cold beer, especially considering the fact that Trish brought them each a frosted mug.

"Damn," Shells said. "This girl is gonna run me broke, and I think I like it."

Trish had the decency to blush before strutting away.

"So, are y'all going to go boating again tomorrow?" Nick asked, his look expectant. "That was some serious fun out there today, and I've got a few buds who'd love to come out and join in. What do you think?"

Greg was silent for a moment and cast a sideways glance at Sam, who shrugged. "I don't suppose a couple hours would be out of the question. That boat gets mighty thirsty, though. Any chance your buds would be willing to pitch in some gas money?"

"Consider it done," Nick said with a huge grin, "and the next pitcher is on me. Hey, Trish, any chance we can get another pitcher and some fresh frosted mugs?"

"Sure thing, honey."

Nick smiled, though Kim looked as if she wanted to heart punch Trish, who leaned over even farther when she returned with the mugs. "I'll be right back with that pitcher, y'all."

"You gonna join us for a drink?" Shells asked, an innocent look on her face.

"Can't while I'm working, hon."

"So what time do you get off?" Shells asked, and Sam had trouble keeping a straight face.

"Usually about an hour or two after I get done working," Trish said with a twinkle in her eye.

"Ah, man, I like this girl. Seriously, yo. That's some shit right there. So what time you get done working, toots?"

Trish seemed to take a moment to try 'toots' on, but then she just smiled. "My shift is over in about an hour."

"Aw, yeah. That's right," Shells said. "I'm pretty sure we can hold down some of those bar stools until then."

Trish winked and walked away, her strut undiminished.

When the pizza and beer were gone, which was surprisingly soon, Nick leaned back in his chair and patted his belly. Even stuffed as he was, he looked like he'd been carved in marble, and Kim couldn't help but run her eyes over his taught form. "That beer was good, but all it did was make me thirsty. How about we see what kind of damage we can do at the bar?"

For a moment, Sam considered excusing herself and heading back to the Inn. Eventually they were going to have to do what they came here for, and tying one on was probably not the best idea. "I'm not sure I should drink any more," she said eventually.

Greg looked stunned, "Now you adopt restraint?"

"Seriously, girlfriend," Shells said. "Besides, how am I supposed to land that waitress if we don't at least stay until she gets done working?"

"You never stop, do you, Michelle?" Greg said, all the while making certain he was far enough away from Shells to avoid her right hook. Shells didn't answer, and he grinned. "C'mon, the first round of shots is on me."

That was all it took. Sam was caught up in a wave of enthusiasm as their group descended on an unsuspecting bartender. A couple other tables that had been nearby were finishing up their meal as well, and as they were standing, one young lady asked, "Mind if we join you? We might even buy the next round."

"Come sit on my lap," Shells said. "And we can feel things out."

Even Sam had a hard time not spitting out the last of her beer. And so it was that the drinking commenced in earnest. The waitresses began seating diners as far from the bar as they could, as the noise level became almost unbearable, but no restaurant owner in their right mind would turn away a thirsty bunch from the bar—they stood to make way more money on alcohol than food. Sam did notice a few thick-necks with buzz cuts watching with cold eyes from the other side of the room; but the mellow buzz that was setting in made it easier for her to ignore them, as well as the nagging feelings that were only growing stronger as time passed.

"Slippery nipples!" someone yelled, and a shot glass found its way into Sam's hand. The drink consisted of a creamy layer on top of a transparent layer of liquid that made Sam's stomach turn a little just thinking about what it might taste like and how it would settle in her gut. She considered handing it back, but resistance to peer pressure had never been one of Sam's strong points. Slamming the drink back in one smooth motion, she tasted licorice and chocolate, which wasn't as bad as she had expected. Still, she wouldn't have ordered another for herself.

"Hey, nipples come in pairs!" Shells shouted, and another round soon appeared. "Damn," Shells said. "Are my nipples slippery yet?"

No one answered, and she seemed content to check for herself at the moment. So it was that she was inspecting her own nipples when a couple walked into the restaurant. A beaming young brunette clung to the arm of an arrogant looking young man who seemed to know full well that he looked like a modern day Adonis. The girl's lips shone bright red, and her flowery dress clung to her in a most alluring way, the material cradling her breasts and accentuating their full perkiness.

"Damn," Shells said, not even trying to disguise her stare as they walked by. "That looks like a strawberry sundae with a cherry on top. Yummy."

Sam thought for a moment that the young man would let it pass, but the girl turned and smiled at Shells. The young man then stopped and turned, glaring, "What the hell are you looking at?"

"Hey man," Shells said, standing up on less than steady legs. "Don't dress her up like a lollipop if you don't want anyone to lick her."

The girl giggled and the young man's face flushed.

"Don't mind my friend, here," Greg said. "She's had a little too much to drink."

After looking Greg up and down, the young man seemed to realize he was overmatched and turned to walk away.

"C'mon back, baby," Shells said before anyone could stop her. "The more I drink the better I look."

"Shut up, Michelle," Greg said.

She just gave him the finger. Trish walked by with a wry smile on her face. "Hey, Trish, am I looking good yet?"

The waitress just shook her head with a twinkle in her eyes and kept walking.

"Damn," Shells said. "OK," she yelled after Trish. "One more drink; but if that doesn't work, then you're gonna have to start drinking!"

An older, heavyset man moved to stand beside the bar and cast them a disapproving glance. Sam assumed this was the manager.

"I think perhaps the young lady has had enough to drink," he said, confirming Sam's suspicion. She couldn't argue with his assessment.

"No way, man!" Shells said as she made her way to the man's side, further confirming his assessment with her less than straight path. "I'll tell you what. I'll flip you for it. Heads I win, tails you lose. Deal?"

The man just raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

"Ah, a tough one. OK. Heads I stop drinking, tails you do a shot with me."

Despite his somber expression, the man showed he had a sense of humor and nodded.

"Hell yeah," Shells said, and she did a little happy dance before somehow finding a quarter in her pocket. After showing it to the manager to prove it had both heads and tails, proof the man did not actually seem to require, Shells tossed the coin into the air. Showing a surprising amount of dexterity considering her current blood alcohol level, Shells snatched the coin from the air and slammed it onto her forearm. "Tails! Booyah! That's right, bitches. Pour this man a drink! What'll it be, my new friend? Blowjob? Body shot? Sex on the Beach? Ooh, wait, how about a Flaming Anus? OK. I made that last one up."

"Shot of crown," the man said to the bartender, who looked more than a little surprised. He handed the man the shot, and without hesitation he slammed it back, though he did wince a bit after placing the glass back on the bar.

"Double or nothin'?" Shells said, and the man nodded. Sam had to give the man credit, since this was probably the quickest way to get Shells to quit drinking and leave. Again, Shells proved surprisingly capable of flipping a coin while drunk and slammed the coin on her forearm. "Tails!" she said after a quick peek, but the manager pulled her hand back for a better look. "Damn. OK. You got me. Heads. Sorry y'all, I guess the party's over." Shells took a bow that earned her a raucous round of applause. "I bid you all a good night. Now where is that waitress? Maybe she could help me to the car."

"I think Trish is still working, hon," Greg said. "C'mon. It's time for us to go. You'll have to score the waitress another night."

"Damn," Shells said. "I wanted me some of that."

"I know," Greg said. "Another time."

"OK."

"We'll see you tomorrow, right?" Nick asked as they were leaving.

"In the afternoon," Greg said.

"Late afternoon," Sam added, and the crowd at the bar waived as they left. Maddie joined them as they made their way out the back door.

"Yeah, it might be real late," Greg said. "I trust you, and since I know who your daddy is, I'll let you take her out as long as you promise to treat her like gold. Deal?"

"Really?" Nick asked, but he didn't wait for an answer. "I'll take real good care of her. I promise."

"OK," Greg said. "If you reach up under my front bumper on the driver's side, there is a magnetic hide-a-key. There's a spare key for the truck and the boat in there. If anything happens to either of them, I'll hunt you down and then lock you in a room with Shells. Got it?"

"Got it," Nick said.

"Are you sure that was a good idea?" Sam asked after Nick was out of earshot.

"No," Greg said. "But good ideas were never my specialty, and I have a feeling I'm going to want to sleep in tomorrow."

Sam and Maddie just shook their heads but didn't try to talk him out of it.

"Who's driving?" Sam asked.

"Not me," Greg said.

"Don't look at me," Maddie said. "I'm schnookered. I told the manager we were going to leave our cars here. He said that was fine as long as we got her out of there."

"I'm not drunk!" Shells said.

"We know, dear," Greg said. "But we're going to take a nice stroll back to the Inn."

"Did you just call me dear? Damn, dude. Don't be trying to get me to switch teams now. I might have to put the woopin' on you."

"Yes, dear."

The cool night air did wonders for Sam, and she felt the miasma clear a tad from her mind; she could almost walk straight. Perhaps walking back to the Inn was for the best. Certainly none of them were fit to drive and it wasn't a terribly long walk.

Greg put one of Shells' arms over his shoulder and Sam took the other. Together, they cut a meandering course through the parking lot.

"I'm not drunk," Shells kept insisting, and Greg continued to call her dear. Sam wasn't sure that was the wisest thing to do, but let it pass since the more Shells jerked them back and forth the harder time she was having keeping her pizza and slippery nipples down.

"Let me go," Shells kept saying. "I'm a world class sprinter."

In all the time Sam had known Shells, she'd never seen her friend move at more than a light jog.

"Seriously, yo. Let me go. I'm a world class sprinter."

This continued until they had left the parking lot and were walking along highway 64. Telephone poles lined the road and lights on every third one cast pools of light onto the roadway. In the distance, more lights lit up the parking lot of the Inn and the windows beyond. Shells then made a retching sound that stopped them dead.

"I think I'm gonna hurl."

Sam and Greg both let go at the same time, and within a single breath, Shells was gone like she'd been shot out of a cannon, all the while yelling, "I'm a world class sprinter!" She made it perhaps fifty strides before she ran, face first into a telephone pole. There was a sickening thud, followed by another when Shells fell backward and lay supine and unmoving. Sam and Greg ran to her with Maddie close on their heels. None could quite believe their eyes when they found Shells giggling.

"I have to pee," was all that she said. As only the drunk could manage, Shells didn't have a scratch on her and seemed completely unscathed. As Greg and Sam helped her from the ground, a Lake Lure police car passed them very slowly, and Sam gave them a half wave as if to say, "We have everything under control." The policeman did not stop, and Shells let them guide her back to the Inn.