The guys are nice enough and cute in that preppy, country club way. Both are dressed in khaki’s and pastel polo shirts. Real men wear pink and all that bullshit. Give me a break. I want a man in jeans, a t-shirt, boots, and sporting some ink. If you’re too much of a pussy to go under the needle for the opportunity to be completely creative with the canvas known as your body, then you’re definitely too pussy to be with me. The collared shirts and sports coats, they just don’t do it for me.

When we left the condo tonight, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was around. Here at the club, hours later, I still feel like something isn’t right. Looking around me, everyone and everything appears to be like any other night out, business as usual. I’m probably overreacting because we went out without a prospect or a member. Rarely do Sass and I go anywhere without a man with us. Not that I need a man, I’m perfectly capable of changing a tire and all that, but my dad insists the Hellions look out for us at all times.

Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, I decide to leave the dance floor and head to the bar. The club isn’t very big. Entering, you find a doorman table for keeping the ID’s of the under twenty-one people. Once past the doorman, it’s open dance floor space. To the right is the bar with a few of those gambling machines, to the left are a few table and chairs. Off in the corner is the DJ set up on a platform. Straight back leads to the restrooms and stock room.

Alton follows me like a trained puppy, as I reach the bar. Rolling my eyes, I can’t help but think, ‘man up son. If you want me, make a move because right now, you’re boring the shit out of me’. I order a beer in a bottle, not on tap. This late in the evening, the kegs have been changed out, and the newer keg hasn’t been on ice as long. Warm beer is piss beer. Beer on tap that is crispy, ice cold is refreshing, but if it ain’t cold I don’t want it. Alton orders a Razzle Dazzle. Really? Ugh, there was a brief moment, and I do mean brief, where I considered sleeping with him tonight. Scratch an itch so to speak. Ordering a mixed drink and making a face at my beer; damn, you might as well have ordered a martini pretty boy.

“What is a Razzle Dazzle exactly?” I ask because curious minds want to know and all that.

“Vodka, cranberry juice, lime juice, mint leaf, and blueberries.” Alton answers with a proud smile.

“Trying to hide the liquor taste?” I ask as a statement as much as a question. I’m so dumbfounded that a man would order a chick drink.

“It’s very good and you don’t taste the alcohol.”

“What about a simple beer? Like a Bud? Or hell, have a Corona with lime? You don’t drink Crown and Coke, or Jack and Coke do ya?”