Page 37 of Dirty Daria
Except get Mack to help me.
19
Reed
“Give me the fucking bottle or I’ll knock your teeth down your throat.” It’s like I’m watching myself in a movie. I’ve grabbed the bartender by the tie and am jerking him halfway over the bar top, with my other fist raised and ready to knock his face inside out.
He hands over the bottle without another word. I release his tie and nod my thanks, stumbling as I step off the barstool. My world righted once again when I tip the bottle to my mouth and guzzle, relishing the burn as the whiskey travels down my throat and the numb that follows soon after. I’ve never been much of a drinker before now, but I’m starting to see the appeal.
Why am I even here? I’m no help to Mack or anyone else in this condition. I’d rather stick toothpicks in my eyes than celebrate David’s nuptials. I could go anywhere else and still get drunk. Though here, the liquor is free.
Winning.
Wait, where’s Quinn? She was just here with me. I turn in a full circle trying to find her, the people around me blurring just a bit. Someone pats me on the back and gestures to the dance floor.
“You’re up, buddy.”
I squint in that direction and see David and Laurel standing with the bandleader and the maid of honor. Must be time for speeches. The bandleader calls my name, sounding slightly impatient. As though he’s been doing it a while. Like I fucking care.
I raise the bottle to my lips again as I stumble my way toward where they stand. Trying to remember what it was I wanted to say in my toast. I’m not going with my original speech, that’s for damn sure. The one I’d written before I knew about David and his extracurricular kidnapping activities. But I’d come up with something earlier tonight that was funny. And punny. And it gave David the sock in the face and knock off his pedestal that he deserves.
If only I could remember what it was.
Something about drugging girls to get willing participants? Or maybe it was only sleeping girls appeal to him? Unconscious is the way he gets consent?
Shit.
Mack grabs my arm as I’m stepping onto the dance floor.
“Give us a second, will you?” he says to the small group standing there with the bride and groom. And then to me, “Hey, buddy, you think it’s such a good idea to go up there right now?” He swings me around in the other direction, the arm with the bottle arcing out and almost hitting an older woman on the head.
“Yes, I do. Why?”
“Maybe you want to concede your time?”
“This isn’t a fucking debate, Mack. I have some things I want to say. Now, in front of everyone. David needs to hear how I feel.”
“Agreed. But maybe not here and not now.” He pulls me toward the hallway, stopping Daria along the way and whispering in her ear. Just as we are leaving the ballroom, I hear the bandleader say, “The best man is a little under the weather, so join me in welcoming one of the groomsmen, Connor, for a toast to the happy couple.”
“Happy my ass,” I say, loudly, to no one in particular.
Mack leads me down the wide hall outside the ballroom. Ornate paneling and heavy curtains line the walls and windows, the carpeting softens the sounds of our feet as we walk. It’s so much quieter out here, I just want to curl up on the floor and take a nap. At the same time, I want to punch a hole in the wall. Multiple holes. I don’t understand how I can feel so enraged and exhausted at the same time.
Mack has yet to let go of my arm and leads me into a small lounge area and motions for me to take a seat. He pours us each a cup of coffee from the small beverage station and sits down next to me.
“I don’t want coffee.” I push mine away as he tries to hand it to me.
“Tough shit, you’re going to drink it anyway. You need to sober the fuck up. I need your help.”
I take the cup from him and sip at the bitter brew inside. “I should be removed from the case. Isn’t it a conflict of interest?”
“I think it’s only a conflict of interest when your wishes go against the wishes of the department. And the department wants to take him down just as much as you do.”
The coffee does little to still my spinning thoughts, but it does seem to stabilize my attention long enough to focus on most of what Mack is saying. “What do you need my help with?” I ask him.
“Chief wants us to follow Tremblay on his honeymoon, see if he engages with anyone outside of Laurel. Or if the trip is a front for anything else. Maybe he’s sussing out girls to bring back. Or vice versa.”
“Go without me.”
