Truth Comes Out (A WWE Fanfic) Book 3 in The Wild Card Series

Chapter 11. Whiskey Whispers

Paying my cab driver, I stepped out onto the street, the lights on the outside of the bar barely lit but it was close to the arena, wanting something small. I knew I wasn't going to blend in well here with my expensive outfit, but I was feeling some whiskey and a lot of it. Walking inside I ignored all the heads turning my way, eyes raking up and down my body as I strode to the bar and slipped onto a stool. Setting my clutch on the top of it I looked up at the bartender who was appraising me silently.

"Whiskey. Double please." I requested, watching him pour a healthy amount into a clear glass.

"Rough night?" he muttered, sliding it over to me and taking the money I placed down.

Picking up the glass I lifted it to my lips, letting the amber liquid slide down my throat in two smooth gulps. Setting it back on the top of the table I slid another bill onto the bar, "Very rough." I admitted, watching him pour another glass, adding just a touch more.

"Alright there champ." He grinned, walking down the bar to another person.

Looking down I let out a sigh, hunching slightly over my drink. After sitting so straight and all the tension I had after dinner it felt amazing to relax a bit. There was so much going on in my head that I had no idea what to focus on, my mother, my father's reaction, Seth's constant pushing to fix everything. I knew he wad family oriented but his inability to accept that my family wasn't something so easily fixed was driving me crazy. Taking a mouthful of whiskey I felt it burn all the way down into my nearly empty stomach.

"Either you're following me or you just happened to pick the one bar I've decided to frequent in the few days we have here." A raspy voice came from my left, making me close my eyes in denial, my luck never changing, "Want to take a guess which one I'm betting on?"

My eyes fluttered open as I turned my head, seeing those blue eyes and copper hair glinting in the dim lighting. He looked now worse for wear, even after being gone for a few days. Blowing softly from my nose I turned away from him, picking up my glass.

"I'm not following you, trust me on that." I scoffed, not in the mood to fight with Dean either.

"I don't trust you." He said sarcastically.

"I don't care if you don't. I'm just telling you I'm not following you. This bar is close to the arena so I can walk back when I shitfaced." I grumbled, not looking at him.

"Thought you had a dinner tonight?" he questioned, and I kept my eyes straight ahead.

"Yeah that's why I'm here." I raised an eyebrow, glancing at him.

"Trouble in paradise?" he grinned, taking absolute pleasure in my misery.

"My mother showed up, was her usual charming self so excuse me if I want to get drunk alright?" I snapped, having enough of his games, "I get it, you hate me. Do me a favour and go back to the corner of the bar and hate me from a distance."

I could feel the sadness underneath the anger but I held onto the latter feeling, not wanting to break down in the bar. Biting my lip I stared down at my glass, Dean not moving from his spot next to me. I had no idea what he was gonna say but I heard him curse softly under his breath before ordering us both another drink.

"Truce. For a few hours." He grumbled, sliding another drink over to me, "What happened?"

"No." I shook my head, sliding it back towards him, "You don't get to do that. You can't just decide when and if you want to talk to me."