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SIXTY-ONE

OLIVER

The driver pulled up on the curb of a restaurant. Jerry was standing outside there waiting for me with two hookers rubbing his chest. I twitched my nose and folded my hands into fists. Jerry left with our rented car, and I was forced to come in a cab. I was angry and wanted to ram my fist into his face, but I restrained myself because he was so cute and spread his arms to welcome me and I did not want to cause a scene.

The two girls wearing false lashes, heavy makeup and skimpy dresses eyed me as I walked up.

“Where is this place?” I asked Jerry, shoving him away from me as he stepped closer with his arms spread. I looked around the area. It looked quite safe.

“It is called The Clockwise. The perfect thing about it is that it has an underground club and this exquisite restaurant. They make the best lobsters in the world—oh, my bad, I forgot you hate lobsters.”

“I am allergic, and it is to shrimps,” I gritted.

Jerry was more drunk than
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