Page 222 of Tar City
“It tastes like burnt coffee grounds.”
“It’s an acquired taste,” Jax replies, his eyes on me.
“So it’s everything from Tar City, I guess,” I say, trying to break the tension.
“Not you, babe,” Lucas says with a wink that feels entirely out of place.
Matt coughs into his bottle to hide a laugh.
I take another sip.
“Want a tip? Don’t sell this,” Lucas says, taking another sip and immediately regretting it, his face twisting.
Jax’s mouth curves slightly. “So,” he says, almost lazily, “when’s the big day?”
“Well…” Lucas clears his throat, puffing his chest out slightly. “I’m kind of still waiting on an answer, actually.”
I nearly choke on my drink and end up chugging the rest instead.
“Easy there, babe,” Lucas tells me from my side.
“Oh, she can take it,” Jax says smoothly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Can’t you, rabbit?”
I want to kill him. I really, truly want to kill him.
“Rabbit?” Lucas asks, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Old joke,” Jax answers, leaning back against the wall. His sleeves are pushed up, tattoos crawling over both forearms now. “So, ring but no wedding date?”
“If it were up to me, we’d do it sooner rather than later,” Lucas says, trying the beer again.
Jax pulls out a cigarette, lights it, and takes a drag before coming closer to hold it out to me.
“You don’t smoke,” Lucas says, surprised.
“I do in Tar City,” I say, taking it from Jax.
I take a drag and stand, pacing toward the far corner where something is dripping steadily from the ceiling onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip.
“The drip,” I say.
“Oh, we’ll fix that,” Matt says with a wave.
“No,” I shake my head. “I mean the name. You should call this place The Drip.”
“The Drip,” Matt repeats thoughtfully.
“Nah,” Jax says. “Pitfall’s better.”
I grab another bottle and hand it to Lucas. “Can you open for me?”
He tries. “Got an opener?” he asks the guys.
“Here,” Jax says.
He takes the bottle and, with a casual flex of his hand, pops the cap off without trouble.
Lucas blinks. “Is that a trick or something?”
