He gives me a smile that has me practically ready to come on the spot and pushes off the counter to come closer. “Okay. What can I get for you?” “A jack and coke.” I can tell he’s enjoying this by the way snickers. “One Shirley Temple coming right up.” Glaring at him, I reach into my back pocket and pull out my fake ID. I put it on the bar in front of me and push it toward him. He lets out a breathy laugh as he picks it up and looks at it, then slips it into his own back pocket. “You can’t just keep my ID,” I tell him. He shrugs. “Sure I can. It’s a false document. That’s not your last name.”
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