Page 36 of If Not for My Baby
Pete yanks me to the table despite my protests. “I’ll loan you twenty.” He pulls out a wad of cash and tosses it onto the table. “Trust me, black is always a safe bet.”
“You said that about red twenty minutes ago.”
“That table was unlucky.”
His dopey half grin and slurred Boston accent are hard to argue with. I capitulate and watch the wheel spin for the fiftieth time. White and black and green and red whir like a pinwheel. The entire table claps and cheers, awaiting their big wins. My feet ache in these terrible knee-high boots.
“Double zero!” the dealer calls.
Everyone groans. No winners.
“What even is a double zero?”
Pete looks dumbfounded. “You know—I have no fuckin’ idea.”
I tell Pete, “I’m going to get a drink,” even though I’m holding one. He looks so bummed about that double zero I pat his back in solidarity. “You’ll get the next one.”
He doesn’t respond and I’m not sure if it’s because he can’t hear me over the casino din or if he’s just too drunk. I’m halfway to the bar when I spot Grayson and Seventies Barbie exiting the bathroom as discreetly as they can. She does a hasty comb of her hands through her hair, and Grayson adjusts his belt and zipper before taking her hand in his. Lovely.
At the bar, everyone is hammered. Conor argues gleefully with some middle-aged men who can’t understand him, Wren has an impressive display of wine-mouth going as she leans over the bar to make a bartender in pigtails blush, and Indy and Lionel are holding hands, both in tears. I’m worried enough to hurry over, before I hear Indy say, “Then he tells her, ‘Ohana means family.’ ”
“I know.” Lionel’s face crumples. “ ‘And family means nobody gets left behind.’ ”
They both cry.
And I am struck by the alarming thought that I am no fun. My mom has a habit of drinking to drown out bad fibro flares, which didn’t appear too enticing to me as a kid. In high school I was always the designated driver, making sure everyone got home in one piece. Mike and Everly like to party, and I always found comfort in being the one who stayed sober, just in case someone needed help. I like being the sturdy, reliable one. It makesmefeel safe.
And even though tonight I know nobody needs me to be in control or on top of anything…I just can’t shake it. Old habits die hard, I guess. I can’t bring myself to take more than two or three inconsequential sips of the blended strawberry drink Indy bought me an hour ago. I’d been so happy and confident on tour these last few weeks. What changed? A heavy cloud of self-doubt blooms overhead.
After I lose yet another hand in blackjack, I track down Pete and Molly tongue-deep in each other’s throats against an alien-themed slot machine.
“I’m going to head back to the bus…”
Neither of them look up from their kissing. Is this even kissing? It kind of looks like Molly is just eating Pete’s mouth.
“Hey,” the scrawny pit boss interrupts. “Knock it off.”
Molly and Pete do no such thing. In fact, Pete groans a bit and slips his hand under Molly’s skirt.
“Oh, you guys—”
The pit boss attempts to separate them and Molly nearly takes the guy’s eye out with a pitch-black acrylic nail.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him.
He only stalks off, discouraged.
When I look back, Pete has one hand wrapped around Molly’s ass and the other gently cradling her throat. Molly laps at him, hands twining in his hair until it pokes in opposite directions like bed head, and Pete just…holds her. He looks almost grateful. Drunk as hell, sure, but visibly still in awe that this vixen is willing to put her mouth on his. My annoyance is slowly replaced by something else.
It’s strange but…they’re kind of growing on me, those horny little goblins. Maybe I’ve had too much time to stew in my Halloran jealousy and I’m worse for it, but I think they might belong together. Clearly, I’m having an off night.
“You two kids take care now,” I say mostly to myself before leaving to brave the chilly boardwalk.
Thankfully, the tour bus is only parked a half mile or so down the road. My phone tells me it’s one a.m. I wonder if anyone is back on the bus yet. I wonder if that ever-shut suite door will be cracked open for once.
It only dawns on me as I’m stepping inside the bus doors that if the suite doorisclosed, Halloran might be in there.With the blonde. I mightlistento him bedding a groupie. Though I’ve had less than one mixed drink I’m sure I’m going to vomit. I promise myself if I hear even one moan, I’ll sprint down the dock and sleep on the sand.
Thirteen
