I growl angrily as I catch the bartender’s eyes on me.
I look at the stack of bills in my hand and decide that, at least, that i***t served some purpose. I walk over to the bartender and hand him the money.
“Another Martini, and some napkins, please.”
He looks stunned.
“Miss…” he says, glancing at the bills in his hand. “With this money, you could buy up to five Martinis.”
“Keep the change.”
The guy smiles broadly and does as I asked.
I try to wipe myself as best I can with the napkins, but I’m still noticeably soaked.
I gulp down my Martini and leave the nightclub.
I just want to get home, take a shower, and forget that i***t. He’s crazier than a goat on drugs.
So exasperating!
But then, voices catch my attention, and I stop in my tracks.
“I’m your father, Creighton, and like
