I am guessing this was his reply to my earlier message and has been sitting waiting.

I sigh as I read it, absent-mindedly chewing my lip and dropping my phone into my lap in complete frustration, blowing out air. My mind is in overdrive at my predicament and seeing the possibility of a solution as I start picking at my chipped nails.

The club is closer to me than home is, and maybe if I swing by and ask for Mico, he can drive me back to my apartment—one last favour before I cut ...