Wasted (3 page)

The form was fairly brief, which I
appreciated. I quickly filled it out and passed it back to her.

She handed me a business card. “I’ll give
you a call either today or tomorrow and let you know whether it’s
been approved. If you have any questions in the meantime, give me a
call.”

“
I will. Thank you.” I
shook her hand and left.

I had some time to kill before my shift
started at Spanky’s. I’d been thinking about Mason’s offer to room
with him until my apartment was ready, and while it would be a bit
awkward, it seemed like the easiest solution.

Pulling over into a strip mall parking lot,
I grabbed my cell phone, took a deep breath, and dialed his
number.

The phone rang several times, and I had
decided he wasn’t going to answer when I finally heard his hoarse
whisper over the speaker. “Yeah.”

“
Mason?” I could tell I had
woken him.

“
Yes?”

“
Sorry to bother you. It’s
Lexi.”

“
Lexi, hey,” he said, his
voice perking up.

“
Are you still looking for
a roommate?”

“
I am. You need a
place?”

“
I went and looked at that
apartment complex you told me about yesterday, and I’m on their
waiting list. They said it would be about four months. You care if
I stay there until my apartment’s ready?”

“
Not at all. When do you
want to move in?”

“
Would now be too
soon?”

He chuckled gruffly. We quickly agreed on
the price, and he gave me directions to his apartment.

Ten minutes later, I knocked on his front
door. When he pulled it open, the first thing I noticed was his
bare chest, nicely muscled with a sinuous tribal tattoo that flowed
over his left shoulder and down his arm and the side of his torso.
Despite his disheveled appearance, he was still devilishly
handsome. He ran his long fingers through his silky hair, and it
fell back into place, brushing against his shoulders. An endearing
grin shot across his face, and dimples softened his angular
cheeks.

“
You move fast, don’t ya,
love?”

I smiled, unable to stop my perusal from
dipping to the V lines that disappeared into low-riding jeans.
“Being homeless is an amazing incentive.”

He held his hand out, and I shook it.
“Congratulations, we’re now officially roommates.” Opening the door
wider, he waved me in. “Welcome home.”

I started to pick up my suitcase, but he
stopped me. “I’ll get that.”

“
Thank you.” Waltzing into
the apartment, I looked around. It was fairly nice in an extremely
masculine way. The walls were bare, but the furniture was stylish,
even if it was coated in a light layer of dust. A bar separated the
kitchen from the living room, and an assortment of liquor bottles
filled the top of the refrigerator.

“
Your bedroom’s across the
hall from mine. It’s an en suite. Do you have
furniture?”

I followed him down the hall, his bare feet
silent against the carpet. “No, I’ll have to buy some.”

“
There’s a furniture store
about a mile from here. They have a decent selection, and the
prices aren’t too bad.”

Mason entered my bedroom and set down my
suitcase. He motioned toward a door. “Bathroom’s in there. You’ve
seen the living room and the kitchen. There’s a half bath in the
hallway, and a washer and dryer just off the kitchen. Feel free to
look around. I’m going back to bed. I can still catch a nap before
my shift.”

“
Thank you, Mason. I
appreciate this.”

“
No problem.”

He went to his bedroom and shut the door
behind him, leaving me the freedom to explore. The bathroom was
simple but clean, the closet spacious. I went to the kitchen and
poked around in the cabinets, which only had the bare minimum, a
few canned goods and some crackers. The refrigerator was stocked
with beer, a carton of eggs, condiments, assorted juices, a lemon,
and miscellaneous sandwich stuff. An outdated loaf of bread lay on
the counter.

Picking up random bottles of liquor from the
top of the fridge, I read the labels, amazed at his vast selection
of rum, vodka, whiskey, tequila, and the list went on and on.

The washer and dryer were tucked in a
closet, a row of nearly-empty wire shelves over them. I found a
small utility closet beside them, which held an iron and ironing
board, a broom, a vacuum cleaner, a mop, and a bucket.

With plenty of time before my shift started,
I decided to check out the furniture store. I found it easily, and
Mason’s assessment had been accurate.

I quickly decided on a sleigh bed in deep
mahogany with a matching dresser and nightstand. After selecting a
lamp, I paid for the furniture and set up delivery for the
following day.

Pleased with my selection and glad to have
that task crossed off my list, I went back to the apartment and
realized that I didn’t have a key. I knocked on the door, hoping
that Mason was awake by now.

He pulled the door open almost instantly,
and I was a little disappointed that he was wearing a shirt this
time. “My bad.” He pulled a loose key out of his pocket. “I forgot
to give you this.”

He dropped the key in my palm, and I
immediately put it on the ring with my car keys.

“
Guess I’m official now.” I
entered the apartment, and he closed the door behind us.

“
I was fixing to make
myself a drink,” he called from behind me. “Want me to show you how
while I’m doing it?”

“
You drink before you go to
work?” I asked, surprised.

“
It’s just one drink, and
if we split it, it won’t even be that much alcohol. Come on.” He
passed me and went to the kitchen.

Interested in seeing what he was concocting,
I trailed along and leaned against the kitchen counter as he
started grabbing the appropriate ingredients.

He explained each step as he made it, and
when he finished, he poured us each some in a glass of ice.
“Normally, it’d be garnished with a lime wedge, but I’m a little
short on limes at the moment.”

The drink was an odd mixture of sweet and
tart. “What’s it called?”

“
Devil’s Handshake.” He
turned and began putting all the ingredients up. “You like it?” he
asked over his shoulder.

“
Yeah, it’s smooth, isn’t
it?” I took another drink, wanting to associate the flavor and
texture with the name of the drink.

“
That’s the egg white.
Although, when we’re making drinks at Spanky’s, we use powdered egg
whites, so we don’t have to worry about salmonella.”

“
How many drinks do you
know how to make?”

He turned and shot me a grin. “A bunch.”

“
Do you ever mess any
up?”

He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows,
looking at me as if I were insane. “No, I never mess any up. I
pride myself on delivering the best damn drink possible.”

“
Like your Sex on the
Beach?”

“
Exactly.”

He drained the rest of his drink in one long
gulp.

“
You want to ride to work
with me?” I asked.

“
I would,” he answered with
a lopsided grin, “but I have a date tonight.”

“
Oh.”

He put his glass in the sink. “And don’t
wait up for me.”

“
I wasn’t planning on
it.”

“
See you at
work.”

He left the kitchen, and I sipped my drink
until I had finished most of it. Pouring the rest out, I loaded our
dirty dishes in the dishwasher and wiped off the counter before
heading to my room.

I unzipped my suitcase. After hanging up my
clothes and neatly arranging my extra pairs of shoes in the closet,
I unpacked my makeup in the bathroom. As the time for my shift
approached, I finished getting ready and drove the short distance
to work.

When I arrived, Mason was already behind the
bar, charming customers and whipping up drinks. I had a few minutes
before my shift started, so I took a seat at one of the small,
empty tables in the dining area and watched him.

Since it was Friday, patrons lined up along
the bar, talking and laughing and ordering quite a few drinks.
Their eyes focused on Mason as he tossed bottles behind his back,
catching them in the opposite hand. He twirled tins and spun
bottles, and I quickly found myself mesmerized by him. He was more
than just a bartender. He was an entertainer, and the patrons loved
him. No wonder Spanky spoke so highly of him.

When it was time for my shift to start, I
immediately began stocking. My muscles were sore from carrying
buckets of ice the previous day, but the bar was buzzing with
activity, and I didn’t have time to dwell on it.

The daily special was draft beer, and Mason
put me to work filling icy mugs while he handled the cocktails.
While I wiped the counter, I heard shouts and whistles coming from
the customers. I turned to see Mason with a row of glasses lined up
on the bar. He had several tins stacked into each other and poured
five different shots at the same time, the liquid landing in the
glasses in a rainbow of colors.

Transfixed, I stared at him. Having spent
four years in college, I’d been to my share of bars and parties,
but I’d never seen anyone do that little trick. When he finished,
the buxom blondes sitting in front of him clapped voraciously. They
loved him.

When my shift was over and Mason delivered
my part of the tips, I quickly crammed the money in my purse and
left. My feet ached, and knowing that my furniture would be
delivered mid-morning the next day, I wanted to get some sleep.

Back at my apartment, I took a hot shower,
helped myself to a throw blanket and a pillow from the couch, and
curled up in the floor of my bedroom.

Sleep came pretty easily, and in a matter of
minutes, all conscious thought slipped into nothingness.

When I heard a thump in the middle of the
night, my eyes flew open. I lay still, breathing quietly while I
waited to see if I heard it again.

A muffled string of slurred expletives
drifted down the hall. I jumped to my feet and listened at the
door—more mumbling. Grabbing my robe from the closet, I wrapped it
around me, tied the belt, and peeked out my bedroom door.

“
Shit,” Mason muttered,
followed by another thump.

I opened the door wider and ventured into
the hallway, walking toward the source of the noise. The apartment
was pitch-black, so approaching the end of the hall, I groped the
wall, searching for the light switch.

Finally, my fingers found it, and I flipped
it on about the same time that Mason plowed into me. His arm
wrapped around my waist, though I wasn’t sure whether he was trying
to steady me, him, or both of us. The strong scent of alcohol hung
heavy in the air.

“
Dammit,” he whispered as
he stumbled forward, tried to straighten up, and fell backwards
instead, bringing me with him as we landed on the floor in another
thud.

I could feel my breasts pressed against his
hard, muscular chest as his arm still held me firmly against him.
His head was tossed back, his chin jutting in the air, a deep
rumble of laughter reverberating through his torso.

He lifted his head and looked at me, his
lips still curled into a grin. His eyes were the color of whiskey,
which, considering he reeked of alcohol, seemed fitting. “Sorry,
roomie,” he slurred. “What was your name again?”

“
Lexi,” I ground out
between clenched teeth as I scrambled to get off him.

He released a cry of pain.

Realizing that I’d accidentally kneed him in
the groin, a flood of heat exploded in my chest and torpedoed up my
face. “Sorry,” I mumbled, relieved when my knees firmly hit the
floor and I could push myself to my feet.

He attempted to raise himself up on his
elbows, failing miserably.

I maneuvered behind him, slipping my hands
beneath his arms, and tried to give him enough leverage to sit
up.

It worked.

“
Can you stand?” If not,
then he’d just have to sleep in the hallway.

After a lot of fumbling and with my grip
firmly on his arm, he finally stood.

“
You didn’t drive, did
you?”

“
No. I never drink and
drive. My friend owns a caxi tab.” He stumbled a few steps. “A caxi
tab.” He shuffled forward again. “A caxi….”

“
A taxi cab,” I supplied,
gripping his arm tightly.

“
Yeah.” He pointed his
finger in the air. “One of those.”

I pushed his door open and flipped on the
light. With his arm draped across my shoulders, we staggered into
his bedroom. He lurched across the floor and fell onto his unmade
bed. Relieved to be free of his weight, I straightened and swept my
eyes across the room. It was sparsely furnished with a bed and a
chest of drawers. Some change, a photo, and an empty glass sat on a
small table, which served as a nightstand. “You okay?” I asked,
turning my attention back to him.

“
I’m good.” He never opened
his eyes, but a slight wave of his hand seemed to motion to me that
I could leave. My eyes turned back to the photo, and letting my
curiosity outweigh my discretion, I walked over and picked it up. A
beautiful girl looked at me, her smile wide and her mouth slightly
parted as if she were laughing. Mason hugged her to him, his
profile facing the camera as he gazed at her.

Realizing I was invading his privacy, I
quickly put the photo down and walked toward the bedroom door.