Chapter Eighteen

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*WARNING (mild): Homophobia - what is said is in no way a representation of how I feel.*

*With the hurricane coming, there might not be another update this week. Not sure just yet. Obviously, if the storm isn't that bad, or we don't get anything at all, then expect updates as usual. But I live in a pretty nasty area that's prone to flooding near the coast of the Carolinas. Our power may go out, but I'm obviously not sure. Last year during Florence my parents were without power for 2 weeks and were stranded in their town whereas my husband and I were perfectly fine here. But the year prior, my town flooded so significantly, almost everything was underwater. There's no telling what is going to happen!*

 There's no telling what is going to happen!*

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•Gray•

"Table three," Jazz directs, thrusting a tray filled with a fresh pitcher of beer and shots of tequila for Ash and a few of his hangarounds.

I slide through the bodies pressed against one another on the dance floor, maneuvering through the tables and avoiding spills and trash on the wood floor.

A constant buzzing of excitement fills the air around me. People laughing, shouting, moaning. The top forty pop hits - unusual to this bar - blasting over the crowd from the many speakers situated in the corners of the room. Glass breaking as drunken idiots slam their empty glasses to the ground. Cue balls slapping against the others, breaking the perfect triangular setup on the green felt.

Then, there's a tapping on a mic, the music lowers and the sound of the crowd dampens as Hunter and Kara take the stage where a live band occasionally plays.

Kara's dressed rather conservatively in a knee length skirt and simple long sleeve shirt, but she does have a silver and pink tiara perched elegantly in her hair and a color matching sash draped over her chest that reads 'Birthday Girl' I'm sure the other Old Ladies dressed her in.

Hunter taps the mic a few more times until Ash pushes me out of the way, standing up and bringing his fingers to his lips, whistling loudly.

"Hey! Listen up or you can get the fuck out!" He shouts before flopping back down into his chair and taking the pitcher of beer I just sat down, filling his glass and chugging the gold, foamy liquid.

I finish putting the shots down, taking note of them immediately being sucked down by the hangarounds that are eager to impress Ash in any way they can. Too many more of those and their asses will be on the floor with alcohol poisoning. I'm pretty sure they've already been given over ten between them.

I stick the now empty tray under my arm and look to Ash. "Anything else?"

He shakes his head and waves me off. Returning through the crowd, I welcome the sudden quietness of the bar. Usually, by the end of a night working the floor, there's a constant ringing in my ear while I'm trying to fall asleep from being subjected to staying in a room where the noise is deafening for so long.

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