Chapter 17
ELSIE
“So, are you gonna poison his whiskey or should I?”
Violet nudges my elbow at the bar. The brick-built walls of what we now consider “our” Irish pub are packed from end to end with every drunk Manhattanite in the city. Or maybe it just seems that way.
On this balmy Saturday night, one of the only places I know in this city is too damned crowded and it's not just because the man who kissed me last night—who loved and licked at my body and made me come—is here with his beautiful girlfriend, looking like two perfect wedding cake-toppers.
We really are at capacity. And the congestion drives me to drink. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I tell myself to stop, but I take another shot, slipping another ounce of tequila down my throat, the inherent bite making my entire tong
