“You took me to a dive bar?” I ask Ward as the door closes behind us. “Hey,” a woman snaps, holding a tray of drinks behind the bar. She’s in her late twenties, with long dark hair in a high ponytail. She’s wearing an old-looking band t-shirt and a scowl. “This isn’t a dive bar.” “It isn’t a dive bar, Streicher,” Ward says loud enough for her to hear. The bartender glares at him before carrying the drinks to a table. Ward leans in. “It’s a dive bar, but we don’t say that in front of Jordan. This place is her baby.”
Ward and Jordan 💗💗💗
