Liquid Courage

  Liquid Courage

  ‘Alcohol goes in, truth comes out’

  By K.S. Adkins

  Copyright © 2017 K.S. ADKINS

  Published by K.S. Adkins

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Published: K.S. Adkins 2017

  Formatted by: Brenda Wright – Formatting Done Wright

  Dearest Reader,

  Liquid Courage is the novel that came before, but inspired, Mercy F*ck.

  What began with one couple, ended up being two.

  Or rather, what began with one glass of wine ended up being a bottle and a duo of alpha females who were screaming at me to tell their story.

  While both share similarities, they are, in fact, separate.

  But, I did go back through and added Mercy F*ck references for your guilty pleasure.

  From the bottom of my glass,

  KS

  The Detroit After Dark Series

  Brutal

  Brawler

  Berserk

  Ballistic

  8 Mile & Rion

  Convincing Bet

  Mercy F*ck

  When Time Stood Still

  Annoying Pest

  Juggernaut

  Motown Throwdown (Motown Down #1)

  Motown Showdown (Motown Down #2)

  Motown Takedown (Motown Down #3)

  Motown Breakdown (Motown Down #4 & 5)

  For

  Jane

  Table of Contents

  Dear Reader

  Other Works by KS Adkins

  Playlist

  About K.S. Adkins

  Liquid Courage

  ‘Alcohol goes in, truth comes out’

  I wasn’t one of those men who laughed if shit wasn’t funny.

  I was the man who would glare at you in warning to shut the hell up.

  Nor was I the type of man to hang out in local bars once business was concluded. I was the man who avoided public places like this, preferring to drink alone.

  I was the man who, on paper, had it all but, would give it up in a second for just a moment’s happiness. Sadly, I’ve yet to achieve it and focused on making money instead.

  Success, I had decided a long time ago, would be the closest I’d ever get to any kind of peace.

  Maybe it was pathetic to have given up on love like I had, but no woman has accepted me as I am.

  For who I am and what I do.

  It was as if they had a checklist and I constantly fell short.

  Because of that I no longer bothered. God’s honest, I haven’t been laid in three years and the longer I went, the less I missed it. However, I had just finished having a drink with my best friend and business partner when a woman and her date sat at the table behind me. I couldn’t remember the last time any female had me doing a double-take. Even if I had only noticed her out of the corner of my eye. Actually, I had noticed her mane of hair. It was gloriously curly and everywhere. She had so much that it hid the face beneath.

  But she wasn’t my date so I did my best to tune her out.

  And I had been reaching for my coat when I heard her make a joke either her date didn’t find funny or didn’t catch.

  Personally, I found it fucking refreshing and instead of leaving, ordered myself another drink.

  And as the date went on, I found myself ordering more just so I had an excuse to hear her voice.

  Over the next hour, I struggled with a wave of possessiveness and struggled to not to toss the fool from his seat and take his place.

  With a steady amount of scotch in my veins, believe me, I was up for caveman tactics.

  Her date was an idiot, she, however, was either desperate or humoring him. Because no way any woman would endure this asshole just for a free meal. This guy was a swipe-right cautionary tale and the main reason I didn’t fuck with online dating. You never know what in the hell you’re going to get.

  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Fuck, her voice though. It was so God damn arousing, I was dying for the chance to see what the rest of her looked like. At this point, unless she looked like a zombie with one good eye, I was buzzed enough to admit, I might be in love.

  But the longer I sat with my back to her, it was becoming nearly impossible to keep my laughter silent.

  Her one-liners were so on point, I was gripping the bar trying to hold it in. The bartender was right there with me too and it bothered me that he could see her and I couldn’t.

  When she gave him the final zinger my shoulders went from shaking to full on body racking. I laughed so hard I nearly fell off my stool. The date in question stormed off and the customers cheered her on. Then she did the sexiest fucking thing by bowing to her admirers.

  Righting myself, I was about to go back to obscurity when she calls out, “Do you think he’ll call me for a repeat?”

  Over the years, I’ve heard people say we have these defining moments that alter our existence.

  I knew this to be mine because when I turned to face her, everything fell into place.

  Peace replaced chaos; hope replaced doubt; fascination replaced weariness.

  She was…happiness. She was also outgoing and fearless.

  This woman was going to change my life and I’d give up my soul for just a sliver of her time.

  And fear.

  So much fucking fear.

  Because I knew I was staring at the love of my life.

  The woman who would bring more joy into my world than a man like me dreamt possible.

  From her tiny hands to her head full of curly highlights that fell to the small of her back, her delicate wrists to her flawless skin, she undid me. I was male, I was human, therefore her low riding tank top that showcased her cleavage was very much appreciated. And while she was small, she was strong. Strength and courage radiated from her.

  She was also the most expressive creature I had ever seen.

  With her big green eyes that were daring me to go for it. To take what I wanted even if she wasn’t sure it was a good idea.

  In a random Detroit bar on a Friday night, I grabbed my jacket placing it over the chair across from hers.

  And then I did something I never do.

  I sat and I smiled.

  ‘The date’…

  Staring at the man sharing a table with me I couldn’t argue the logic that there was someone for everyone.

  I mean, if his mother could find it in her to love him …

  “How much have you had to drink?” he asks, eyeballing my cocktail. Truly, it’s a fair question. Considering I’d started drinking out in the lot prior to, odds were good he could smell it. So I went with honesty. Most days, I was honest to a fault, which is probably why I’m single and haven’t been laid in twenty-two months. Yes, I said twenty-two.

  “Prior to our date? Or today, total?”

  At a loss, he continues to blink at me wondering if I’
m going to laugh and say, “relax, I’m kidding.”

  When he realized I was serious he leans in and says, “Your profile said you drank socially.”

  “I’m very social, obviously,” I explain waving at my adorable self. “So I drink, a lot.”

  “What’s a lot?” he asks reaching for his water. Water. Who the fuck drinks water on a first date? Or, ever?

  Water is for dirty dishes, making coffee, or washing evidence from a crime scene. Not consumption.

  “I guess a lot depends on the person,” I shrug. “But I find life’s easier with some liquid courage. Well, that and I’m a functioning alcoholic with a gambling problem. I’m really more of a doer than a thinker, Randy.”

  Unsure how to respond he says, “Tell me more about you. What are your long-term goals?”

  This guy was totally going about this all wrong. I wasn’t here for a job interview. Shit, at this point I was willing to forego the free meal too.

  The only reason I’m still seated is because there happens to be a man at the bar, with his back to me that is listening to my every word. I know this because he’s subtly leaned in to eavesdrop, carefully rotated his stool a bit and cannot stop bouncing his big shoulders in laughter.

  At least this guy thinks I’m funny…

  And he wore a suit.

  A lost art, really.

  “What was the question?” I mumble tapping my temple. “Right, long-term goals. Uh, the same as anyone else, I suppose. To be a stay-at-home mom, minus the kids.”

  “That was a joke, right?” he asks screwing up his face which was not doing him any favors, believe me.

  The man at the bar thought so. I mean, if his mumble of ‘fucking funny’ was any indication. I was really starting to like that guy.

  “Your profile mentioned you’re an accountant,” I toss out. “That’s almost interesting.”

  “I love numbers,” he smiles proudly and I didn’t feel like pointing out he had food in his teeth. Which was super gross since we hadn’t ordered. “Yours tells me you’re a private investigator.” This he said with a giggle. A fucking giggle. Being laughed was a sore spot for me which meant someone was going home with a limp tonight.

  “That’s funny to you, Randy?”

  “I mean,” he motions to me from head to toe. “Yeah.” He was that ignorant. “Come on, look at you.”

  “It’s funny I hold two degrees? Became a detective, a damn good one, before going into business for myself. Which since I have, I feel I should inform you is nearly the most successful firm in the city. And you cannot even count the competition because he can barely get out of his office chair let alone chase down a lead. He blows all his cash on cheesy commercials which fine, are catchy, but doesn’t pay the bills. So help me out here, pal, exactly which part of what I just said amuses you?”

  “Your temper and ego may be why you’re single, Marcy.”

  Leaning over the table I correct, “My name is Mercy. With an E for exceptionally tolerant. It’s not Marcy, or Macy or fucking Marge. It’s Mercy. And maybe my ego is too much for you Randy but, for a guy who loves numbers your debt to income ratio screams co-dependent. Your obsession with your mother and her cats deserves its own TV show. Oh, and let’s touch on your porn addiction. Seriously, I’ve got the time and the questions. Hang on, I want to take notes…”

  “Wait,” he begs when he realizes he’s just bit off more than he could chew.

  “Honey, I barely scratched the surface, okay? But, I can guarantee those are just a few of the reasons you’re about to be single again.”

  Still not catching on, he sputters, “You-you looked into me?”

  “A girl can’t be too careful when she swipes right,” I admit. “Though, for a guy who makes eighty-two grand a year, you spend your money on weird shit. Like five-hundred a month on live porn. I don’t get why you would willingly pay for porn at all. I mean, a stable of hookers is more cost effective and they at least let you stick it in.”

  “Did you only come here to make fun of me?” he seethes in embarrassment.

  “Actually no,” I sigh. “I was just bored.”

  “You were bored,” he sneers gripping his glass of water. And since it wasn’t holy water it wasn’t going to save him.

  “It needs to be said, kinda getting bored here again, Randy.”

  “You’re a bitch!” he whisper yells which is so passive aggressive.

  “Getting paid for it too,” I wink. “Don’t forget that. Oh, and your girlfriend just texted me.”

  “What –” he cries out.

  “Yeah,” I say slowly, taking a cue from Office Space. “She might have watched all this play out live. So, if you could stop by on the way to your mother’s and get your shit from her curb, that would be grrrrreat.”

  Pushing out of his chair quickly, he bolts from the table and because I’m a nice person I yell out, “It’s okay, Randy! Furry porn is everyone’s favorite!”

  While the customers close by cheered me on, I graciously stood and took a bow. As I was taking my seat, I look up and see the man at the bar had nearly fallen off his stool. And since I had been curious about him and his shoulders, I ask, “Do you think he’ll call me for a repeat?”

  Turning to face me, I gulped at the man wearing a crisp white tailored dress shirt and gorgeous grey suit coat wondering how he squeezed those massive shoulders in. Then, I swear this weird time warp thing happened where we just stared at each other. I didn’t know him, he didn’t know me, yet everything in me said you’ve met your match.

  And I was too busy wondering what in the fuck I was supposed to do to about that when he draped his coat over the vacant chair. When he sat down placing his elbows on the table I was transfixed by his large forearms.

  “I don’t know, how severe is this gambling problem?” his voice…ugh, I was a fool for baritones that dressed well.

  “Have you ever been to Greektown Casino?” I manage to ask despite my tongue being suddenly severely swollen.

  “Yes.”

  “Have you ever played the Ellen slot?”

  “Actually,” he smiles beautifully. It was beautiful because it was crooked. “I have.”

  “Then yes,” I admit unapologetically. “I have a serious gambling problem. And you can’t play Ellen sober. I’ve tried. It’s an impossibility. But she’s big on kindness and I feel like giving her all my money is essentially being a good person by extension.”

  “I see. So, do you lead off all your dates like that or just Randy’s?”

  “It was a set up,” I felt the need to share. “My friend Ember has a friend who’s been dating that idiot for two years. Word is he’s been unable to get it up lately. Probably all of the porn. Anyway, she felt something was off and asked me to look into it.”

  “You can look at him and see something is off,” he remarks.

  “True,” I agree. “But from what I hear, love is blind. Anyway, I love Ember and she likes this chick so I agreed. Randy was an easy nut to crack.”

  “I, for one, enjoyed your date,” he grins leaning closer to me and the liquor on his breath was intoxicating.

  Jesus, I wanted to get drunk off his lips.

  “That makes one of us,” I reply easing back out of self-preservation. “I’ll be thinking about Randy humping stuffed animals for weeks. Moving on, do you always eavesdrop?”

  “I couldn’t have tuned you out even if I wanted to. You have a beautiful voice.”

  “Thanks,” I say while digging in my bag for cash. Tossing some on the table I extend my hand offering my best, “It’s been real but I have to –” and bailing mid-sentence.

  I couldn’t afford to invest in a well-dressed man who found me entertaining and smelled like commitment.

  Even though a big part of me wanted to stay, another part knew it was a matter of time before I saw him again.

  And I’d need that time to get my shit together.

  Which included fixing my past, and this wedgie, like yesterday.

&n
bsp; After ingesting enough liquid courage to actually approach her, she cut the conversation off and literally bolted. Unhappy about that, I decided to follow her and was quite impressed with how fast she was for someone with such short legs. Careful to keep some distance as not to be arrested for stalking, I peek inside of the party store to see her finger in the cashier’s face. Worried for her, I barge inside to find the cashier’s arm twisted above his back and his cheek pressed into the countertop.

  “Give me the ticket,” she threatens and the two customers watching it play out were smiling. Right here, this is what was wrong with the world and why I avoided it.

  “I told you –” he tries holding his hand up.

  “What are you doing?” I ask taking her right.

  “Are you stalking me?” she asks with a wink as if she liked the idea.

  “Yes,” I nod. “I am stalking you. Now, explain why you’re assaulting this man.”

  “He won’t give me back my lotto ticket,” she says as if that explained everything.

  “Because it’s not a winner,” he groans in pain.

  “Well, I’m not taking your word for it, Lenny,” she counters. “Half the time I can’t even understand you anyway.”

  Fuck, it was like I was the principal breaking up a high school fight…

  “She’s going to let you up and in return you’re going to return her ticket,” I advise them both.

  “On three,” she says slowly letting him up.

  Thrusting her ticket in her face, he growls, “Here, happy now?”

  She was staring at the ticket when I asked, “Well?”

  “Not a winner,” she mumbles in disappointment.

  The man started to say, “I told –” when she literally snarled.

  “Let’s calm down,” I try, because the woman clearly had impulse control issues.

  “You,” she points to me. “Either pick my side or stay out of it.” Leveling the cashier with a glare she says, “This ticket is not a winner. It also isn’t mine. I know this because these numbers haven’t been called yet. So, before I scale that counter and make a man out of you, I’d like my ticket back.”