Adrian's POV:
"Sir Adrian" the security guy nods his head at me with a smile. I can't remember his name exactly, maybe Ross or Reese or Rosso or some shit.
It doesn't matter anyway, I wave a hand at hand as I make my way inside, leaving the stocked line of people waiting outside impatiently. I don't wait in the line, I never do, not even back at New York.
It's fucking 1AM already, yet my every day booth is still waiting for me just like always. So I go straight to it, not looking at anybody nor checking if there's anyone I know. I want to be alone.
"A bottle of scotch, right away!" I scream at the barista over the loud ass music.
"Here it is, Sir Adrian" the boy brings it in one second with a medium glass.
He smiles at me, expecting me to smile back at him, but all he gets is a dismissive wave with my hand. I hate them when they call me Sir, fuck no. I'm no Sir, Andrew might like it but I don't.
