I guzzled the third drink; it was watered down enough to taste like shit but still did the trick. Digging in my pocket, I tossed a hundred-dollar bill on the bar and spoke to the bartender. “I’ll take another.” “You sure? You’re downing ’em pretty fast there, buddy.” “The woman I’m fucking crazy about asked me to help her zip up the sexy little dress she wore on her date tonight.” The bartender nodded. “I’ll keep ’em coming.”
