Cole muttered something unintelligible as he wobbled on his feet. “I’m gonna eat some * tonight!” he sang at the top of his lungs and I threw the remote at him.
“Shut up, man. I don’t need to hear about it.”
Cole threw it back and gave me a sloppy smile. “You could go eat some * too. Don’t you have Tits up there in your bed?”
Yeah, I didn’t think Tits, I mean Sophie’s, * was on the menu tonight.
“Come on, baby,” Vivian cooed, supporting Cole as they walked to the front door. “Bye, Mitch!” she shouted.
The door slammed behind them and I was left alone. Garrett was in Boston until Monday so it was just me and Soph in the house. That should have been the cue for rabid monkey sex on every available surface.
If we were like normal couples we wouldn’t have been able to keep our hands off each other.
But we weren’t a normal couple apparently.
I tried to watch some TV, but I couldn’t get into anything. I was hoping for some Fresh Prince of Bel Air re-runs but I was out of luck. I thought about watching some porn so I could at least rub one out, but that sounded depressing.
I drank another beer but that just made me feel like I was going to puke.
I grabbed Garrett’s guitar and plugged it in. Maybe playing music would help me get rid of this restless energy.
I strummed a few songs, but couldn’t find my groove.
The notes all fell flat.
So I sat, staring at the wall, thinking shit that I shouldn’t be thinking, trying to sober up.
I thought about the band. I thought about what the hell I was going to do once that train derailed.
I thought about the woman asleep in my bed that I really wished wasn’t there.
And I thought about Gracie.
Of course I thought about Gracie.
Seeing her earlier today had been…nice.
Almost casual.
Something like normal.
I had been angry with her for so long. My ego had taken a beating. My heart had been smashed.
But I wasn’t feeling angry right now. I wasn’t feeling heartache or bitterness.
I just wanted to hear her voice. Which was stupid.
Don’t do it. Just don’t! Go for a walk. Or make an omelet. Do not, I repeat do not, drunk dial her!
I picked up my phone.
This is your last chance, man. Retreat! Retreat!
I dialed her fucking number anyway.
I’ll just blame it on the alcohol. It made it easy to make bad decisions and think about consequences later.
“Hello?” Her voice was rough and heavy with sleep.
“Hey,” I said softly. Was I slurring? I didn’t think so. I felt a lot more sober than I had an hour or so ago. But I was still just drunk enough not to care about how wrong this was.
“Mitch?” I could hear the rustling of fabric and knew she was moving around in her bed. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. Two maybe?”
“Why are you calling? Is something wrong?” Gracie sounded more alert.
“No, nothing’s wrong. I just thought you could use some Chunky Monkey.” It was lame. Really lame. She’d see right through me.
“Chunky Monkey?” Gracie sounded confused. “Hang on a sec, it sounds like Viv just got home.”
More rustling of fabric and I imagined her in her bed and knew that she was only wearing panties and a tank top. It’s all she ever wore to sleep. My mouth went uncomfortably dry and I had to readjust myself in my boxers.
“Damn, are you psychic?” she whispered a minute later. And then I could hear it. The familiar sounds of Cole and Vivian screwing each other’s brains out.
I laughed. “They left here about fifteen minutes ago and Cole already had it whipped out. So I figured you were about to get an earful.”
“This sounds like it’s going to be a gold medal performance. Here, have a listen.” She must have put the phone to the wall adjoining Vivian’s bedroom because all I could hear were Vivian’s hyena shrieks and Cole’s grunts.
“Enough! Spare my ears!” I begged once she pulled the phone away.
“Well, are you going to rescue me?” she asked lightly and my belly clenched.
I remembered that Sophie was upstairs. In my bed.