“Congrats on getting married to a woman so far out of your league, the first officiant canceled because he didn’t think she’d go through with it,” Warren says with a raised glass.
“Truth,” Gage agrees.
Heston and I both echo Gage’s statement in unison. “Truth.”
We throw back the shots and slam the empty glasses on the bar, instantly picking up the other four.
Heston looks at me, and I lift my glass to clink with his. Gage and Warren do the same.
I start up my toast and lock eyes with Gage. “Eat if you’re hungry. Drink if you’re dry. Fucking the best man’s sister is a dumb way to die.”
Now I know for sure they’re hammered. Because we each throw back the shots, and then Warren and Gage are shaking hands, nearly bent over with laughter.
“Dude,” Heston leans in, whispering to me.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and turn toward him. “What?”
He doesn’t verbally answer, just juts his chin in the direction of the stage. I follow his line of sight, confused. The base thumps hard enough to make my chest vibrate, and the strobe lights blur the flickering silhouettes on the dance floor. All I see is a group of?—
I freeze.
“Is that your dad?” he whispers.
I reach for a random bottle of beer on the bar and chug it down. “How the hell would you know if that’s my dad?”
“I wasn’t trying to overhear anything, but I was home last night. You sounded mad. I came down the hall to make sure something wasn’t going down.”
Oh.
The man in question is struggling to stay upright. Last night he was jittery, but sober and somewhat composed. Now his hair flops down in his face. His shirt’s untucked. He even grabs a passing woman’s hand and spills his entire drink down his shirt.
Looks about right to me. What a fucking bloodline. I shake my head and tip the bottle back again, even though it’s long gone.
I blink slowly three times and sway into Heston’s side. My mouth opens with a wide grin as I try to continue watching my dad out of the corner of my eye.
“Me in twenty years, am I right?” I joke with a cough as Heston pulls down my finger that’s pointing in Monty’s direction.
“Y’all ready?” Warren asks.
“No,” I blurt out. “I’ll be right back.”
I shuffle toward daddy dearest, and as soon as he spots me, he holds a hand over his belly and laughs. My boots scuff across the floor. He leans back to sit on a stool but misses, falling completely to the ground.
Something about the sight sobers me. Not much, but enough to make me crouch beside him where he hasn’t bothered moving since falling flat on his back.
“Rough night?”
“It’s not good, er, bad,” he slurs. “We’ll see if I find a be—better place to land.”
I stare at his drooping eyes and mouth. His head rolls back and forth while he laughs with a rasp, like he’d already polished off a few packs of smokes today.
“Whatcha doin’ here?” I ask.
“Getting ready fer bed.”
“Uh huh. Looks like it.”
“Fancy seein’ you here too, my boy.” He howls with laughter that ends in a series of deep coughs. “Just think if I’d come around sooner. Good times, we’da had. Just like this.”
