Page 17 of After Effect

Whatever. May as well enjoy it.

The shot tasted pretty good. It was a clear, menthol-esque liquid that I couldn’t begin to identify. I downed it and returned to my whiskey. The whiskey was harsh at first, but it was starting to grow on me. It didn’t seem to be getting me drunk though. I took another sip, then stood up to try to feign interest in dancing.

Alright, nevermind. Scratch that. The whiskey was definitely getting me drunk. Every woozy step and movement made that very clear. My dancing was extremely short lived before I stumbled into a bathroom stall and propped myself up against the wall to stabilize myself. I was mid-piss when my phone started buzzing in my pocket.

“Yes. Thissiz Finch.”

“Holy shit, are you drunk?” The perfect pitch of laughter on the other end of the phone could only be Lilly. I cleared my throat and took a deep breath to try to shake off my stupor and sound at least marginally professional.

“What d’you want?” Better. But not great.

More laughter. “Oh man, where the hell are you?”

“I’m at the Rage Cage.” I rolled my eyes. It’s not like that meant anything to her. She’s not even old enough to go to a club.

“That’s the dumbest name I’ve ever heard.”

“So judgmental. And you didn’t answer my question. Why’re you calling me?” Slowly but surely, my lips were figuring out how to speak with minimal slurring.

“Right.” More of her chuckles filled the other line. “I had an idea for a new song, and I guess I got overly excited about it and wanted to tell you right away. It can wait ‘til tomorrow though.”

Somehow, her amusement annoyed me. No one laughs at Finch Corbin. “Let me hear it.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not going to sing to you over the phone.”

“Fine, then pick me up.” I was surprised by my own words. I didn’t want her to pick me up. Not right now. Well, that’s not true. I wanted her to pick me up more than anyone, and that’s precisely why I was on this mission in the first place. My drunk subconscious wasn’t doing a strong job of lying for me. I was way too drunk to be dealing with clients. Particularly this client.

But before I could correct myself, her voice buzzed in my ear. “On my way.”

Then she hung up without another word.

Shit. I shoved my phone back in my pocket and used muscle memory to get my pants zipped and buckled. What was I so worried about? She doesn’t even own a car. Plus, she lives in Oxnard. That’s over an hour away at best. What’s she going to do- pick me up at a bus stop? It’s almost midnight. I don’t think the buses are even running anymore.

Yeah, I’m good. Lilly is ridiculous.

I returned to my booth and took a few more sips of whiskey, figuring I may as well kill whatever remaining inhibitions I had. I don’t think I could fuck up any more than I already had at this point. I’d just get myself trashed and ride the buzz the rest of the night.

She’s for sure not going to come here.

The blaring techno almost started to sound like real music, as I made my way onto the dance floor again. I twirled a pretty Asian girl, but she didn’t stick around for long. An older woman and a tiny brunette were quick to take her place with some swaying and grinding.

“Where are you staying tonight?” The older woman yelled over the music as her friend moved behind me. She was probably about forty five, but her energy and rhythm far out matched the rest of the floor.

“Home. I live with my dad.” God, what the fuck, Finch. You’re trying to hit this, and you sound like a child.

Before I could redeem myself, she smiled and moved in closer. “We live just around the block if you want to stop in before you head home to daddy. We even have a hot tub.” Her breath tickled my ear. “We can warm up and have a good time.”

“Alright.” I nodded through closed eyes. I didn’t want to think about it too much. I’d say no if I did. Instead, I just continued to let the music control my movements.

A couple more songs, and a couple more unintended drinks later, it seemed hard to keep my eyes open at all. I wanted little more than to bail. I could go home, curl up in my bed, maybe fall asleep listening to Lilly’s latest.

God. Fucking. Dammit. Stop thinking about her.

I need to get this over with. Get it all out of my system. That’s the only way I’ll be able to work with Lilly without fantasizing about her every three minutes. This is still a solid plan. Increasingly nauseating, but solid.

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