More or Less

Chapter 19 • Vendetta

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Theodore's POV

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My phone vibrates and I'm completely fucking shocked at the name I see illuminating the screen. I quickly finish my shot and order the bartender for another, mindlessly sliding the glass over to her ready and waiting hands.

The bartender is a young, little thing, but that doesn't stop my eyes from straying to her ass as she tiptoes and reaches for the bottle of vodka on a shelf in front of me.

Even though she's too damn pale for my liking, too slim, her height reminds me of her, of Brenda's daughter, and that's why I come here.

I stare down at my screen once more, expecting the name to change, but it doesn't. It couldn't be her. Does she remember what happened all those years ago?

I chuckle at the thought. I wouldn't be worried if she did. Not at all.

Nothing much has changed since then. Well, her body has. God, had her body changed. She's thicker, curvier, and her breasts never seem to stop growing. I let out a sigh and palm the crotch of my jeans, hoping it'll release some of the damn tension that's starting to gather there, but it doesn't. I close my eyes and envision her as a small girl, twirling around in her nightgown with her long, dark hair.

Why did she cut it? She looked so much like her mother back then, but now she's barely recognizable. I kind of miss her metal smile, but I'm pleased with the result of their removal. Her teeth are perfectly aligned, no longer crooked, and it's almost as beautiful as her mother's smile.

"Are you going to get that?" I hear Larissa, the bartender, ask me, softly, and I open my eyes to find her gazing at me, her head tilted, her smile warm.

"Get what?" I slur and cough to clear my throat. I couldn't possibly be drunk already. I've only had three shots. This is what jail does to you: Weakens your alcohol tolerance.

"Someone's calling you," she says. I couldn't help but stare at her young face and compare it to Alisha's. She has too much fucking makeup on and her brown hair it too dry, pulled back into a stiff ponytail.

Larissa looks slightly uncomfortable and places the glass of vodka in front of me before turning away to greet the new customers.

I've forgotten all about the phone call. Am I really that fucking intoxicated? No, I just thought it was the vodka playing mind tricks on me, attempting to fool me to believe that she's actually calling.

I bring the glass to my lips and glance down at my screen again. I almost spit the burning liquid into the floor. Holy fuck, she really is calling.

"Alisha?" I try my best to seem sober.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she sobs into the line and I chug down the rest of the vodka before gesturing Larissa to bring me the tab. "But could you pick me up?"

Why the hell is she crying? Where the hell is she? I'm stunned, honestly, that she would call me. But she's alone and vulnerable. I run my fingers over the stubble on my chin, debating what I should do. She obviously doesn't remember our past and I'm pleased with that. I'm ecstatic, really.

There's plenty I could do now. I could take her out shopping, buy her dinner, and have an easy conversation with her. Just like I used to do with her mother before she left me for him. I literally become giddy with excitement at all the possibilities.

Larissa politely hands me the tab and I pay the designated amount, along with the hefty tip I can't help but always give her. She rewards me with a smile and I wink at her before I gather my keys, my brown leather jacket, and leave the bar.