Red Flags by C.C. Brown

drink.” Chelsea had hit pissed off
and I had to make her promise not to say anything to Jason –
because if I didn’t, she would.
    We got dressed in record time. I had on my
frayed jean shorts, the white tank top, covered by the sheer
lavender top. The belt I picked up matched nicely and the cowboy
boots were just the right touch. Mila had on tight, dark skinny
jeans, a red strapless top and brown cowboy boots. Her bone
straight hair was thrown into a messy side braid, while Chelsea was
in black shorts, a white t-shirt, and black cowboy boots. We looked
pretty damn sexy, and luckily for the guys, they would be with us
all night. We headed out to the living room area and found the
guys, submerged in guy talk, with drinks in hand. Jason walked over
and grabbed me by the hand, turned me around to get a good look at
me, and whispered in my ear something dirty enough to make me
blush. Mila -- Ms. Life of the Party, went to the fridge and
grabbed a bottle of dark liquor.
    “Alright, shots all around, pre-gaming it
before Wranglers.”
    Everyone darted in Mila’s direction, and
Jason gently grabbed me by the elbow.
    “No shots,” he gave a subtle warning, but
from the icy glare in his eyes, I knew he was serious.
    “Why can’t I have one shot?”
    “Because you already had wine and vodka? Now
you want shots? Are you going to be fucking conscious tonight – at
all?”
    “I think I’ll be fine Ja…” and before I could
even finish what I was trying to say, he gave me the death stare
and walked towards the others in the kitchen to have a shot. As
pissed off as he was making me, I couldn’t help but be slightly
aroused by the fact that he looked absolutely delicious in his
fitted jeans, white button up that was hanging out of his pants,
and brown boots. I looked around the room and took a mental note
that everyone except me was drinking. I had no desire, and would
not be relegated to designated driver -- not on a night where five
other people were fully, and happily intoxicated.
    “Hey… how are we getting there?” I yelled,
startling them from their drunken laughter.
    “I have a driver coming to get us,” Jason
yelled back.
    Mila, Ryan, and Chelsea were leading the pack
on the shots, and were challenging Jason and Hunter to meet them.
The five of them indulged in their shot taking, and I was watching,
laughing at the fact that Hunter, who was not much of a shot taker
and was spilling most of it on the counter due to lack of ability
to open his throat. Hunter was more of a wine drinker and it
showed.
    Within a few moments, the doorbell rang. We
grabbed our things and headed out to the big black Expedition
waiting in the driveway. The driver greeted Jason in a very casual
manner, giving some secret handshake, and tipping his hat. He was a
tall African–American man, by the name of Patrick. He was in his
late 40’s, with a hint of grey in his goatee. He wore a suit, and
looked impeccable in it. He opened the door and we all scrambled
in. Jason and I took the very back, and he nuzzled himself into my
hair, commenting on how appetizing it smelled. I reminded him that
the reception my hair received from him was less than welcoming,
and he apologized, saying he was just shocked by it. The response
was unwarranted, and I wondered why something as silly and trivial
as straightened hair would spark such a reaction.
    The ride to Wranglers was rather loud and
obnoxious, and that was probably because I was the only truly sober
person in the car – besides Patrick. By the time we arrived at the
club, I just wanted out of the car, figuring once we were inside,
they could be as loud and obnoxious as they wanted – away from me.
We walked right in, right past the line. Jason high fived the
bouncer at the door, and we were ushered in, past the line of
people waiting to get in. I noticed Ryan and Mila holding hands as
they went in and headed straight for the dance floor. It was then
that I realized that there was more to them