Want a Kiss I'll Give You a Punch

Chapter 36: The Wrong Hands

Mike 

"Is this seat taken?"

A hand of ruby nails swiped through a silky curtain of blonde hair and a pretty face stared back up at me.

There was a momentary glint of favorability, but it was plastered with a feigned guise of distaste- a.k.a the basic bitches' 101 on how to play hard to get. It's so unoriginal and overused it should be a Snapchat filter. 

"Depends on who's asking," she chided while taking the salted rim of her martini delicately up to her lips. 

With the music resounding in the background, I let my body move flow with the rhythm and rest against the glass counter. "Darling," I sighed as I moved closer and swiped my fingers across her ear to tuck the stray blonde strands behind it, "I could be the man you see in your dreams tonight-"

"Then-" 

"But, quite frankly," before she could talk I pulled away and took the seat next to her for myself, "I've gone through this script so many times, I'm already tired of you. I just wanted this seat for the drinks. The world doesn't revolve around you, honey." 

I should have been slapped for what I said, hell, it almost looked like it for a second, but instead she pouted her lips and stormed off towards the dance floor.

Shooting down a shot of vodka, I watched her disappear into the masses. It's a shame. She seemed like a nice girl- trying to be someone that she wasn't. Aren't we all? Or, maybe she was Canadian, it would explain a lot. 

"Damn, with an ass like that, where's she off to?" 

Garrison was quick to fill her empty seat and order another wave of shots.

That giddy smile smacked across his face pissed me off, though I'm not sure what for. Under normal circumstances, I would be having just as much fun as he's having right now, but no matter what I can't bring myself to it. Instead, I'm stuck at the bar with self-pity syndrome, drowning in my undeserved wallows while listening to Garrison ramble on about the array of girls he's planning on bringing back with him to the hotel. 

Though, this was all my fault. 

Ashlyn was a decent girl, the only one that managed to bring me back to my own humanity, yet I had to throw it all away for some meaningless one night stand. 

What kind of idiot does that? 

The piercing pain I experienced in my head all night flashed again in my temples, burning into my vision and making everything a blur. The chaos I created, the relationship I ruined with Ashlyn, and the mistakes I made with Melody was sending me into a migraine. 

I have to forget about it. 

I have to drink more. 

"Another shot of vodka, please," I called out to the waiter, shooting it down the second it arrived. 

However, all that I drank tonight failed to give me anything more than a buzz. My high alcohol tolerance was more of a curse, but if it was to be any good news it would be that I was close to liver and organ failure. My dream stop to the hospital may become a reality. 

"Woah, slow down," Garrison chuckled as he patted my back. 

Laughing, I snatched his drink and shot it down too, "How can I? It's already midnight. Everyone's getting lit. Let's go join them. It's been a while since I've been to another party that's not mine." 

Garrison laughed with me and nodded along, "That is true, you always throw the best ones. Hope this place is to your liking." 

The blue and ultra-violet hues blaring out onto the dance floor from the abstract, crystalline cubes hanging from the ceiling was a nice touch, I'll admit. The updated playlist was also a plus, a lot of international clubs that I've been to were about four years behind- such a turn off. So, all in all, this place wasn't so bad. 

Though, I faced Garrison with a shrug, "I suppose I like Canada."

Actually, bless it. Bless Canada for its lower legal drinking age.

"How could you not? I mean, look at these girls. They're all three points above any girl you'd find in America-"

I wasn't really listening. 

Truth be told that I hardly do, but with the vodka starting to go down like water I was drifting off into my own headspace with thoughts scattered here and there with no place or idea particularly in mind. Just the peaceful absence of self and the world around me. 

There was nothing. 

Even the lights of this club seemed to fade in and out of existence.

"Holy shit you're plastered."

No shit. 

The internal commentary stayed sealed behind my lips as I shot him a look, my head drooping and swinging at my attempted, sharp head turn. Must have looked like a moron, but I can't imagine myself looking any worse than Garrison with that crooked nose. The imperfection was slight, but it would make his parents get plastic surgery for him if they felt sorry enough. 

Or, maybe I've been staring at it for too long. Can't recall if it's always been like that or not. 

Garrison did have a forgettable face. 

"Suppose this will do. Had a whole night planned for you, bud, but let's go meet those people I was talking to you about." 

He tried whisking my arm to pry me off the barstool, but with my fingers pried to the counter, intent on taking the last shot I ordered, I held my ground. That was until he yanked me away and led me to the side exit like I was some hungover girl. 

I had to do that once. The lady tore her tube top off with one fowl sweep and was doing an Irish jig on the bar table. 

Was I being that embarrassing? 

"Garrison, buy me dinner at before you take me home like this," I smirked up at him at first, but my eyes flitted across the different details of the dingy alley he dragged me out to. 

The place was a literal dump. I know that I am absolute shit faced, but I am not complete garbage yet. Why the hell did he take me out here? 

"Thought they would never come," Garrison grumbled under his breath, but hoisting me back up onto my feet he dragged me towards a car, "Mike, these are some of my father's associates-" 

"Heyo," I greeted back with the quick flick of my two fingers from my forehead as a salute. 

An awkward silence ensued, but the few men from the black car in suits unburdened Garrison by slipping me into the backseat of the car. The cool leather was refreshing against my burning, but even in my drunken state this all did seem a little odd. I never met Garrison's father in my life, nonetheless know what kind of career he had. 

"They will be taking care of you now. You can be a real dick sometimes, but it was nice knowing you while it lasted." 

What was this? A breakup? 

Wobbling onto my elbows from my back, I shook my head, "What the fuck, Garrison-" 

"Goodbye." 

"Wait! Someone help me-"

With one last smirk, the door closed and the dirt beneath the tires crumbled as the car took off from the club parking lot. 

a/n: 

drunk mike is a sassy mike. for any of my Canadian readers i am sorry that he plays into all those stereotypes. i try to control him but it's hard as you know. 

love you Canada <3 thanks for being such a great neighbor.