Page 97 of Unhinged

Four refills later, Milt sighs as I pour the fifth. “You’re finally losing it.”

“What?” I ask, laughing. At what? I don’t know. Laughing is the last thing I feel like doing, the first being to fuck myself up.

Candi leans on the bar. “What’s happening here?”

Milt says, “Simone has a date. Some cop, I hear.”

Candi’s responding smile makes me drop another glass on the floor, and not by accident. I giggle because… Who cares why? Setting down my glassful of whatever, I drag over the broom to sweep it up. It made me feel better, at least.

She, Milt, and the barflies drinking it up watch me sweep. How stupid. Candi says, “Well, this is painful and so fixable.”

I dump the glass and swing the broom into the wall, which slides to a stop at the corner. “What is?”

“Get it together, Greg. You need to tell Simone how you feel about her. It’s hard watching you suffer like this.”

“I feel great. I don’t have anything to tell her.”

“Bullshit. Even Clive down there knows.”

Ancient Clive raises his glass. “Tell the broad she’s your woman.”

Next to him, Filth says, “I’ll do it for you. Damn. This is depressing.”

Candi goes into the kitchen as I stumble against the counter for another drink. I feel bad that Milt is taking care of the customers more, but I’m too far gone. I shouldn’t even be here now. Candi or Milt will take me home. Or I can sleep in the storage room. That’ll work.

Milt says, “Take a break, Greg. Get some coffee.”

I laugh. “Right.” I grab the bottle of the shit I’ve been drinking and go into the kitchen as Candi exits it. She nearly plows me and catches me when I tip. I pat her head. “You’re so helpful.”

“And you’re so drunk because you’re in love, but you’re too spineless to tell her.”

Since she said that so fast, I squint at her from the kitchen light and from confusion. “Huh?”

She rolls her eyes. “Nothing. Go sit down.”

Candi pushes me, and I stumble into the kitchen, but I catch myself before going headlong into the counter. I knock over the bottle, and the last of the alcohol splashes all over it, and I whine like a starving dog. Someone pushes me straight, and I look to see Amos’s ham hocks manhandling me. I shrug him off. “I’m fine, Vaughn. Damn.”

“No, you most certainly are not fine. You’re going home.”

“Goody. But I forgot where I parked my truck.”

“Oh, no, no, no. Your truck is out of commission this evening.”

“You probably sold it.”

“Grab your coat, and let’s go.”

“Don’t get all bossy with me, dude.” He pushes me toward the locker room, and I swing my hands to remove his from me. “I got it. Back the fuck off.”

But I don’t really because when I reach the hallway, I fall against the wall and slide to the floor. I try to get up, but I keep sliding back down. Amos sighs and walks over to me, offering his hand. I scowl and cross my arms. “No, thanks. I don’t two-step.”

“Just take my hand.”

“Get bent.”

He instead bends to lift me up, and he’s successful despite my fighting him. Candi returns, and Amos asks her to get my coat. He then tries to help me into it, but I snatch it out of his hands, which nearly has me on the floor again. “I’m not damn five years old.”

Amos and Candi walk with me outside, and it’s as if I just had surgery, and they’re making sure I walk. So stupid. Candi pushes me into Amos’s front passenger seat, and I hate that it’s not the back seat. She buckles my seatbelt, and her hair brushes against my face. “Your hair smells like watermelon dipped in pickles.”

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