Nash poured yet another beer down his gullet. The sounds in the bar were so f*****g loud tonight—people everywhere, the same boring people.
A young blond was trying to get his attention by the bar. Nash recognized him, but it had to be a couple of months ago. He didn’t do repeats, and the sooner the guy got the message the better.
The bottom floor where they were sitting had the decor of an old-fashioned pub, tables and chairs in dark wood, and by the windows were booths made up of black leather sofas with tables screwed to the wall. The upper floor was more like a nightclub with a dance floor and its own bar. Luckily, the DJ hadn’t begun yet.
“What’s up with you today?” Gilbert frowned at him.
“Nothing. Tired is all.”
“Tired?” Gilbert looked at Ellis as if he would object to Nash bei
