Chapter Sixteen
The unit wound up at a dive just a few miles from the Field Office. They were seated next to the bar under a few dim lights and a glowing neon sign that read we're open. As Dre had explained, it was their usual spot. The host who showed them to the table recognized everyone except Nolan by name. He felt flustered having to introduce himself. It shouldn't have felt like a big deal, but it was.
"Okay, but do you really think the waitress would give you her number?" Darren laughed. "Dre, she hasn't looked at you once."
"But when she does, I'll be ready," Dre said, pushing up his sleeves.
Kaytee snorted and took a sip of her drink. "Mmhmm. You can say that all you want. You should leave her alone before she spits something in our basket of chips."
Dre popped a tortilla chip in his mouth. "Tastes fine to me."
Nolan tried not to chuckle as Dre gave the waitress a long, lingering look. She was perched across the room, completely oblivious to the ogling. Nolan wasn't bold enough to flirt like that, so brazenly. He was unbelievably awkward in comparison.
If he was braver, maybe he'd have a shot at someone else. Maybe.
Kaytee assessed the empty shot glasses. "You think we're ready for another round?"
"You guys are already a few slammers in. If you keep up this pace, you'll all be drunk within the hour," Nolan pointed out. "Judging by the average rate the body metabolizes alcohol, of course."
"I need more tequila if I'm getting anymore fun facts from Encyclopedia Brown," Dre joked. "This one's on me."
He was off to grab a couple more drinks, just like that.
Kaytee met Nolan's eyes. "Come on, Foster, could you at least try to look like you're having fun?"
He forced himself to lift the corners of his mouth. "Better?"
"Now you just look constipated," Darren teased.
Nolan pushed a hand through his hair. "I'm not good at this stuff."
She lifted her glass of half-full rum and coke and waved it under his nose. "Start here, maybe?"
He took her cup reluctantly and grimaced as the sour taste crossed his tongue. "That was as disgusting as I thought it would be."
"I think it's great," Kaytee said defensively. "Who doesn't love a good mixer?"
"Foster, apparently," Dre said, laying the next round of slammers onto the table. "Bottom's up, gang."
Kaytee, Dre, and Darren clinked their glasses together, the sound ringing through the bar. With heads tipped back, they downed the shots and cheered.
Nolan was right. An hour later, Kaytee was swaying her way to the bathroom, her face flushed, her hair messy, and a perpetual stream of giggles flooding out of her mouth. Darren had fallen out of his chair once, and Dre had made it his mission to chat up a girl in a blue dress who was sitting a few feet away.
Nolan was the only sober one in the group, a stark contrast to the rest of his friends.
Kaytee fell unceremoniously beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Nolan, what are we going to do with you?"
"Let me call you a cab?" he suggested.
"Karaoke hasn't started yet," she protested.
"Karaoke?" he echoed.
"Karaoke," she said. "What should I sing, Darren?"
"Hmm," Darren said. "Maybe some Taylor Swift."
"Really? Taylor Swift?" Dre chimed in. "KC can do better than that."
She knotted her fingers in Nolan's tie and started to undo it.
"Kaytee, what are you doing?" he asked, swallowing hard. He could smell her perfume and it was driving him crazy. Knowing she was so close in proximity was maddening. She normally wouldn't be pulling a stunt like this, but it seemed all of the shots and spiked sodas had gone to her head.
"You look too boring for some singing," she answered. "I want you up there with me."
Dre was down to his undershirt, Darren was in jeans, and Kaytee had ditched her heels a long time ago. Nolan wondered how they could slip into such an easygoing state after the intensity of another day at the FBI.
Sure enough, he was looking into Kaytee's wide, bright brown eyes as a giant grin broke across her face. Gone was the work-obsessed Kaytee Carlisle they knew and loved. For now, she was finally free of it.
He wished he could say the same. Instead, everywhere he looked, there was a potential case.
"Oh—No, I don't—" he stammered out.
"You're going up there," she insisted. "Please?"
"Foster! Foster!" Dre chanted.
"Guys, I don't—"
Kaytee took both of his hands, dragging him out of his seat. Suddenly, he was on the stage in front of the crowd. Darren was cheering them on as Dre started to film, and Nolan felt his mouth grow impossibly dry.
"Ready for this?" she asked.
"No," he sputtered.
"It's a classic," she reminded him. "Go with it."
The familiar notes of "Bohemian Rhapsody" broke through the speakers. Nolan cringed at the song choice.
"We should have left it to Queen," he muttered.
"We're gonna nail it," she said and began to slur the lyrics. Even wasted, she sounded pretty good. She wasn't a great singer by any means, but she could carry a tune and get by with her confidence alone. "Mama, just killed a man..."
Nolan sighed. "Kaytee—"
She continued on through the rest of the track, and he stood there beside her with his hands in his pockets, shuffling from foot to foot uncomfortably. He felt like a fool, but she seemed fearless. Barefoot, shirt untucked, and glowing, she was invincible.
Kaytee Carlisle. The untouchable.
As the last of the song began to fade, she was looking right at him, the mic held tightly between her fingertips. Softly, she sang, "Nothing really matters. Nothing really matters to me."
He realized he was staring, and she was too, and he had this sudden urge to take her face in his hands and kiss her senseless.
No, he thought as soon as it crossed his mind. That's insane. This is Kaytee and she's my friend and we could never...
He was interrupted by her throwing up all over the floor beside him.
"God," he said softly.
She groaned as she collapsed beside him. Her eyes were half-shut as she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.
"How about that cab?" she murmured.
"Yeah," he said. "Let's get you home, Tee."
Darren was there alongside Nolan to get her away from the vomit and the heat of the heavy stage lights. Dre helped get her cleaned up, taking a napkin and gently wiping away the mess.
"So is this how Taco Tuesday is supposed to end?" Nolan wondered aloud.
"Usually there's no puking," said Dre. "But yeah. Kaytee likes to go hard."
"Got it," Nolan said. "Do you have a way home?"
"My girlfriend's coming," Darren replied.
Dre hiked his thumb at the girl he was talking to earlier and winked.
"I guess there's a perk to not drinking after all. You're lucky, Nolan," Kaytee remarked, rubbing her temple. She started to unlock her phone, but her fingers kept sliding clumsily over the screen as she struggled to focus.
"Do you... do you maybe want a ride?" Nolan rushed out.
She glanced up. "You would do that?"
"Yeah, Kaytee, of course," he told her.
With an arm around her waist, he helped her out to his car and unfolded her in the passenger seat. She was still clutching her high heels, looking completely rumpled and discombobulated.
"Kaytee, can you tell me what your address is?" he asked.
She nodded, mumbling a few incomprehensible letters and numbers. He managed to decipher it after she repeated herself, and followed the GPS instructions to a small condo on the outskirts of Dallas proper.
She was passed out by this point, and Nolan was left to scoop her up bridal style. As he carried her to the door, she balled her fists in the fabric of his sweater, her breathing heavy. He managed to get her keys out of her purse, feeling like he was invading her privacy by entering her personal space.
He laid her down on the couch, laying a knitted blanket across her body. When he turned to leave, she reached for his wrist, holding him in place.
"Nolan," she whispered, eyes closed.
"Yeah?" he said.
"Please don't go," she said.
"Kaytee, I—" he began softly. "I don't know if that's a good idea."
Even though he wanted nothing more than to stay, he took his pride with him and walked away from her.