by Ian Mark
“You should probably eat something. These things will really fuck you up on an empty stomach.” I put the apple back.
“Good,” I said. I walked out of the kitchen.
“I’m serious,” Kevin called after me. He followed me into the main room. I plopped down on Louie’s beige pleather couch. I kicked off my shoes and placed my feet on the glass coffee table.
“Pretty impressive furniture for a… what is Louie doing these days?” Kevin looked shocked at how comfortable I was. He hated relaxing sober. He also didn’t appreciate the change of subject. He sat on the recliner adjacent to the couch and turned it to face me. After a few seconds, he reluctantly answered.
“He’s a writer.”
“Still pursuing that? What’s he been in?” I picked up a magazine off the coffee table and flipped through it.
“Nothing that I know of.”
“Kim hates being pregnant… surprising. So then how’s he paying for this?” I managed to tear my eyes away from the cover story to look at Kevin. I could guess how he was paying for it, I just wanted to see if Kevin could confirm it. He nodded.
“You know,” he said.
“Ah,” I said. We sat in silence for a few minutes. I learned more about Kim Kardashian than I wanted to know.
“Look,” he began. I snapped out of my fantasy about a butt implant gone horribly wrong. She probably wouldn’t die anyways. “I know that the last month and a half has been tough for you. It’s been hard for me too.”
“Oh boy! An inspiring speech about dealing with grief!” I clapped my hands and bounced up and down.
“Amanda breaking up with you on top of Brian’s death. It’s a miracle you’re still working.” He nervously met my eyes to gauge my reaction. It wasn’t good. I clenched my jaw. Kevin was my second best friend. Or, he was my new best friend. I’d let him finish.
“But I think you are not dealing with this the right way. And maybe I’m not either. We’ve been getting fucked up. And I know we always get fucked up. But we’ve been getting really fucked up, especially the last few nights. We spent hours at some drug dealer we didn’t know’s party last night, Zach.”
“I’d been meaning to ask, when did you leave that? I didn’t make it out till morning.” I laughed. Kevin didn’t. He looked up and met my eyes. There was water clouding his dark eyes. He scratched behind his left ear, and I noticed a patch of skin in his crew cut.
“Stop changing the subject. I know it hurts. But drugging yourself up isn’t the answer.” His face changed abruptly. He seemed to have just realized this himself.
“Then why are you here?” I had caught him being a hypocrite. He had no choice but to change the subject.
“You’re right.” He stood up. He walked over to the coat rack and grabbed his jacket.
“You’re leaving?” I got up and walked over to him. This was not what I thought was going to happen.
“Yes, and you should too. We don’t need to do this. Let’s take a night off from the drugs and the women. Let’s talk about Brian, about what happened to him.” I opened the door for him.
“See you around.” I refused to look at him, focusing out the door. Louie appeared in the doorway. He was disheveled and his hair was wet.
“Jesus, it’s pouring out there. Where you guys goin’?” Louie marched in without an answer and pulled out three purple packages. He placed them on the kitchen counter and looked at Kevin, then me.
“We’re leaving.” Kevin looked at me.
“Kevin doesn’t want his cookie. Here, I’ll have it.” I handed ten dollars to Kevin without making eye contact. He stared at it, then took it and nodded goodbye to Louie. I shut the door behind him. Louie asked me with a look for an explanation. I just shrugged my shoulders.
“Forget him. We’re gonna have a good night,” I said. I returned to the couch and sat back down.
“Feet off the table please.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“‘fraid so. I can’t have you dirtying up the place. Bad for business.” He sat down in the recliner and pulled the lever to lie down.
“You sell pot. You think anyone cares?” I took my feet off the table. I got up and grabbed two of the packages. “Jesus, these things have nutritional info?”
“Yep, they’re legit.” Louie smiled. He walked over and grabbed his. He had missed a spot whenever he most recently shaved, and there were a few hairs on his right cheek.
“Regular smokers of cannabis should consume 1/2 a cookie,” I read aloud from the back. I opened the package and wolfed down the whole thing.
“Woah,” Louie said. He chewed slowly on his. I remembered a meal I had with Brian a few months ago…
“You take forever,” I said. Amanda and I were waiting for Brian to finish. Haley, his latest girl, his last girl, was in the bathroom. “Why can’t you just eat at a normal speed like everyone else?” Amanda chuckled. She reached for my hand and smiled at me. She was wearing a black dress and the necklace I had bought her for her birthday a few weeks before. The light caught the emerald around her neck and for a second, she sparkled. Brian finished chewing, looking at Amanda the whole time. He swallowed. He looked at me.
“I’m sorry Zach, I know you do everything quickly. I like to take my time.” Amanda laughed. I chuckled politely.
“Is that why it always takes us so long to leave when you just have to ‘run to the bathroom’ before we go?” Amanda guffawed. Brian had no response. It was the last time the three of us ate together.
“What do you want to do?” Louie asked after he finished his cookie. I opened the other cookie and ate it.
“Let’s go sit somewhere where we can reminisce.” I knew where we were going to go. I didn’t want to have to dictate, so I tried to guide Louie to it.
“I got an idea, why don’t we go sit at Brad’s? For old times’ sakes?” Bingo.
“I don’t know, you sure you wanna?” I was just messing with him now. I imagined I was starting to feel it. I knew that it took an hour or so, but I always had a giddy effect right after eating something like this. The anticipation of it almost made me high.
“Yeah, let’s do it.” Louie giggled.
“Okay,” I said. I put my shoes on slowly. “We could even call Murph and Randy to meet us there.”
“Sounds good man.” I got my coat.
We got there really early, around ten or so. I hadn’t started to feel it yet. We got a table. There was almost no one there. I got a cranberry juice from the cute bartender.
“What’re you on your period or something?” she asked, with a too-strong-to-be-real Boston accent. I laughed at the reference.
“Are you a cawp?” I mimed smashing my glass and hitting her with it. She smiled. “Isabel,” her name tag read.
“Great movie,” she said. I agreed. She was wearing an engagement ring.
“When’s the big day?”
“A few months.”
“You love him?” she seemed taken aback.
“Of course.” How lucky she was. And she didn’t even know it.
“Congratulations,” I said. I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but from her frown it was clear I failed. I walked back to Louie.
“Randy’ll be here in a few. Murph’s gonna meet us later. He’s out to dinner with Jackie.” I sat down next to Louie. We had our backs to the wall. This would be our entertainment for the evening.
“How’s that going for him?” I took the stress ball out of my pocket and squeezed it a few times. Louie watched me play with it.
“Good, I think. They’re getting pretty serious.” I bounced the ball off the wall and caught it.
“How long has it been now?”
“Almost eight months, I think.”
“I meant since we ate them.”
“Oh.” He checked his watch. He was the only guy our age I knew who wore a watch. It wasn’t even a nice one either. It was one of those velcro watches that aren’t water proof but are “water-resistant,’ what
ever that means. He wore this green and grey thing on his right wrist too, even though he was right-handed. “It’s 10:17.” He looked at me. “When did we take them?”
“I don’t know. 9:30 maybe?”
“I think it was earlier.”
“You feel it?”
“Maybe a little. You?” And just as he asked I felt it all at once. A rush of warmth straight to my chest. I felt it in between my pecs. I sighed.
“I think… it just hit me.” I giggled. It was coming on quick.
“Oh… boy. Me too.” Louie’s features sagged. He leaned back against the wall. I did too. We waited.
Sometime later, Randy showed up. We were a mess by then, giggling and snorting. Randy was wearing a bizarre outfit. He had on a bright red onesie, and some sort of mask. A bright yellow lightning bolt was emblazoned on his chest. When he entered and saw us, we devolved into yet another fit of helpless laughter. He stepped around a few tables of drunk college guys, and sank into a chair across from me. The cushion had a hole in it. I had switched that chair with my chair earlier to avoid the hole. He shifted uncomfortably while he talked. His predicament made me laugh. I sipped the same cranberry juice I had been drinking since we got there. Isabel brought a drink over to the table next to us. I smiled at her. She looked at me like a mother looks at her son when he brings home a bad grade.
“Aw, shut the fuck up,” Randy said before either of us spoke. Well, not before we laughed and pointed at the lightning bolt.
“Is it…Halloween?” I gasped, choking back tears.
“No, I was at a purim party.” I grabbed Louie’s watch and checked it. 10:32.
“How was it?” Louie laughed as he asked.
“It sucked.” Each response only made us laugh harder. I put my head in my arms and folded them on the table. Randy looked at us.
“What’s up with him?” he pointed me out to Louie, as if Louie was any better than I was. Louie looked at me and said, “He has terminal cancer.” I whooped, spitting out my cranberry juice on Randy’s costume. He jumped back, angry.
“It’s okay,” I said. “The colors match.” Randy scowled at me.
“What are you, man?” Louie asked quietly out of the side of his mouth.
“The Flash,” Randy answered. I laughed. Louie didn’t. I turned and followed his eyes. In porn terms, a couple of barely legal busty coeds had strutted through the door. In fairy-tale terms, a few fair damsels had just taken the first step towards becoming distressed. Louie smoothed down his hair.
“You sure you’re up for this Louie?” I asked. “You’re pretty high.”
“I am? I never thought of myself as pretty.” I giggled. He was serious. Well, as serious as he could be in the situation. I licked my hand and ruffled his red cowlick.
“Stop it man. Cut it out. You coming with me?” I shook my head. Randy perked up.
“I will,” he said. “Just let me get a drink.” Isabel appeared as if summoned.
“What’ll it be?” She asked.
“A waitress and a bartender?” I said. “What versatility.” Isabel stared blankly at me. I smiled. She gave a small smile than looked to Randy.
“Let me get a whiskey sour.” Isabel walked back to the bar. Louie tapped his foot. I hummed “A Dustland Fairytale.” The girl at the table next to us looked over.
“Hello. I’m LeDarius McQuinton.” She looked suspicious.
‘I’m Jane,” She said slowly. She looked towards the bathroom, as if she was waiting for a friend.
“Have you ever seen the rain, Jane?” She got up and moved to another table. Isabel brought Randy’s drink over. The dark brown mixture was almost overflowing. He stood up and placed the drink on the table. He took out his wallet to pay.
“Okay, I’m ready.” Louie stood up too. Their targets were being engaged by a different pride of lions. I kicked the table stand. Randy’s drink spilled a little.
“Hey, man, chill.” He grabbed his drink and slurped some off the sides of the glass.
“Whoopsies.” I tickled Louie’s belly. He tried not to laugh.
“Stop it.”
“Just go,” I said, “Before those ladies are snapped up by some other leading men.” They walked carefully over, picking their way between tables, engaged in a discussion of the utmost importance. I surveyed the bar. It was a homogenous mix of white boys, white girls, and more white boys. The place itself was dark, with more tables than could be comfortably fit into such small place. The fake wooden chairs were spread all around, some tables had no chairs, and others had twice as many as they should. Those tables had invariably all female or all male occupants. The behavior of these groups depended on the sum of their Y chromosomes. The men all were on the prowl. At least one of them caught the eye of each girl that passed by. They spoke to each other only to formulate a game plan. They came here for one reason each night, to get fucked. The female tables, which were tables composed of females sitting at them, and not tables with female sexual reproductive organs, had a dichotomous purpose. Some of the girls looked around eagerly, gulping down bright blue drinks and pushing out their tits. They were here to get fucked. Others, particularly those who sat sipping on a glass of wine, looked around suspiciously, and often had a hand or two on their more eager friends. They had boyfriends, they were spoken for, they had found a mate and had no need to come to the local watering hole with all the other gazelles. They came here to make sure no one got fucked. The scent of desperation filled the bar. I loved it now. I’d hate it in the morning. Everywhere I looked I saw the funniest things I had ever seen in my short life.
A tall, strapping young lad made his way over to the table to my right, where a wench had sat and was intently staring at her phone. He engaged her in a conversation, which she reluctantly joined. He said something, and she twisted her hair around her finger. Then her phone flashed and she looked back down. Unperturbed, the Aryan sensation sat down next to her. Aggresive, I thought, I’d avoid him on the Serengeti. I eavesdropped by cupping a hand around my ear and leaning over. I don’t think they saw me.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“I’m actually waiting for my boyfriend.” Ah, the two most dreaded words in the history of sleazy bars. “My boyfriend,” which roughly translated to “There’s already a penis in my life, and I’m not looking to add another one.” Hercules stood up without another word and went back to his mates. They ribbed him a bit when he came back, I was sure.
I looked over to Louie and Randy. They were seated at their desired table, so they must have done alright for themselves. However, a closer look revealed three of the four women were texting, and the fourth was sipping water and glaring at them. The girl standing next to Louie stood up. She was unsteady. Her four-inch black heels clip-clopped as she made her way towards the bathroom. I figured I ought to help out my friends. I made my way to the bathroom. I also had to piss like a racehorse high on edibles. I tripped over the outstretched leg of some grey suit.
“Excuse me,” the suit said.
“Well, when did we teach clothes to talk?” I eyeballed the empty discount suit wearily.
“What did you say, bro?” It stood up. It was almost human.
“My goodness! Is that you Phillip? My long-lost brother?” I laughed and turned away, humming the Rocky theme song. I raised my fists in triumph as I found Louie’s target at the end of the line.
“Excuse me madam.” She turned to me. She smiled. Women are horrible at flirting when they are this drunk. Good thing I wasn’t here to flirt.
“What is your preferred moniker?”
“What?”
“What do the men shout out when they are with you?” I leaned against the grey wall, taking care not to cover the picture of Washington Square Park, 1886.
“I don’t know…”
“Sweetheart, what’s your name?” I sighed. Some people are dumb, others are smart.
“Karen.” I took her hand. It was surprisingly mannish, with thick fingers and callouses in all the
wrong places.
“Karen, my darling, I am Leonidas of Sparta. I was hoping you could inform me of the name of your friend over there drinking only water…” Her smile died. Her inferiority complex grew. “And the name of her boyfriend.”
“How do you know she’s got a boyfriend?” She was clearly confused. The experience of a man talking to her here with no desire to fuck her left her almost speechless. She began looking around for someone to take her home. We were almost to the front of the line.
“Look, toots, when a man’s been leading safaris for this long, he learns to identify all species of the animal kingdom.” I waved my hands as I talked. They looked like bluebirds. Or maybe sparrows. I was never good with bird names.
“Um, well she’s Lauren. And her fiancé’s name is William.”
“Willy what?” She was reluctant. I gave her my most ingratiating smile and took her hand again. I stroked her ring finger to remind her she wasn’t getting any younger. It was her turn for the bathroom.
“Willy what?”
“Jamison.” She stumbled through the door to her left. A young Dominican gentleman with a chinstrap beard came out of the other one. He placed a bony hand on my chest and stood up as straight as he could. His Nirvana t-shirt stretched over his tiny chest.
“Hang on, man.” His voice was lower than I expected. “There’s a girl in there.”
“Aw, yeah man. Look at you!” He smiled and walked past. I continued. “Who fucked a drunk slut in a grimy bathroom? You did! Go Pablo!” I walked after him. He saw me follow and sped up. I wasn’t trailing him. I detoured over to Louie and Randy and Lauren’s table. I sat down next to the only person whose name I didn’t know. I became frantic.
“Are you Lauren?” I asked her.
“No,” she said. She looked at the real Lauren. They were apprehensive. “William Jamison’s girl?” I asked. I looked at the goalie. With any luck, I’d be able to pull her and give my friends some time on an empty net.
“That’s me,” she said. “Who are you?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m Roger. Will’s probably mentioned me. No? He hasn’t? Well, it doesn’t matter now. We were out drinking tonight and he was mugged. He’s in bad shape. He asked for you, but none of us had your number.”
