Validation Required (Otis Driftwood x OFC) ON HOLD

Chapter 2

"Well, ain't this fan-fuckin-tastic," I said dryly. "Just the fucker I wanted to deal with."

"Somethin' tells me shit's 'bout ta git real interesting." Smirking, Otis grabbed his whiskey and took a long pull from the bottle. His hand curled around the hilt of the huge hunting knife attached to his belt.

Lucian scanned the entire bar, scowling once his drunken glower fell upon Otis and I. He stomped towards us, staggering back and forth like the lush he was. Unintimidated, I glared back. Otis beamed as if he were watching a sitcom on television. Every so often, a sinister chuckle slipped out of him.

"That motherfucker's shit-faced. Whatever he drank made 'im grow a steel nutsack. Does he know 'bout our past?" He sat his whiskey bottle on the table.

"Yeah."

"Thought so. He looks jealous as fuck."

Rolling my eyes, I poured whiskey into my glass and chugged it. "That's his problem, not ours. Ain't like we're doin' anything wrong. Even if we were gittin' touchy-feely, I'm single. I can do whatever the fuck I want."

Otis scratched his scruffy jaw. "I hope he ain't stupid enough ta start shit with me."

"As wasted as he is, I wouldn't put shit past 'im, but he'll prolly start with me."

"That ain't happenin'," he grumbled, giving me a pointed look. "You just sit there like the sexy creature you are. I'll take care o' this."

I shrugged. As Lucian wobbled closer, I poured another drink and munched on a few cherries.

"Ya know that Restraining Order ya got? It's just a piece o' paper," Otis warned. "It ain't gonna help if he attacks while yer alone."

"No, but I can git 'im in trouble and send 'im back ta jail," I stated. "He's prolly out on bail right now. If he tries that, he'll be in deep shit."

We quieted down as Lucian trudged within hearing distance. Otis stepped in front of me to block him. I had a stellar view of his low-waisted pants and perfect ass. His hand tightened around his knife. I could only imagine his hostile expression.

"Git outta my way, Driftwood. I wanna talk ta Selene," Lucian growled.

Otis laughed quietly. "I don't fuckin' think so. You ain't s'pposed ta have any contact with her. She's got a Restraining Order against you. Ya ain't s'pposed ta be within 300 feet o' her, either."

"Goddamn it, Driftwood! Move!"

"Fuck you, motherfucker! I ain't goin' nowhere!"

Lucian ignored Otis and peered around him to address me. "So ya dumped me and put me in jail fer domestic violence, and now yer sittin' in a booth flirtin' with Driftwood? What's that about? Can't keep yer fuckin' legs closed? I should o' known you would run right in ta his arms. Ain't that what ya always do?"

Otis snickered. "I always took real good care o' her needs, unlike yer pathetic ass. I mean, you had this hot piece o' ass shakin' her shit in front o' you, and you weren't gittin' any ideas? Whatta ya call that? She sure held my balls at attention fer years; still does. Why not yers? You sure ya ain't a faggot?"

"Ain't talkin' ta you," Lucian grumbled, his eyes flickering with fury.

"You ain't talkin' ta her, either!" Otis roared. "I won't fuckin' allow it!"

"Fuck off, Lucian!" I hollered. "I'm single! I can do whatever the hell I damn well please! Assume all ya want, but I wasn't flirtin'! Not that I gotta explain myself ta you anymore, but my legs've remained closed!"