Page 18 of The One I Need
“Don’t be,” I say. “I’ll be fine. Just a slump. Oh, but I should ask, how are you and Betsy? Everything work out?”
“Yes, everything is fine. But don’t divert. I can smell your bullshit from a mile away.”
Sometimes it’s great having friends that you’ve known for twenty-plus years. Sometimes it’s the worst.
“Just drop it, Wes,” I say, standing back up. “I just need the weekend to clear my head. A few days alone will do me some good.”
“Nope,” he says, popping out of the chair. “You’re coming to The Joint tonight, and we’re going to fix you up.”
I shoot him a look. “Do I have a choice?”
He shakes his head. “Would you give me one if the role was reversed?”
I let out a sigh, knowing he’s exactly right. “What time?”
“Seven. And it’s our lucky day. Simon’s coming, which means he’s buying.”
* * *
“Here we go,boys. Four beers and four shots.” We nod and say thanks to Porter, the owner of The Joint and Wes’s cousin, as he sets down our drinks. “Whose tab?”
“His,” we say in unison, pointing to Simon.
“What the fuck?” We all start laughing, even though he should’ve known this was coming. “I’m not the only one at this table who makes six figures.”
He looks over to Wes, who holds his hands up in surrender. “I did make six figures. Now I’m a high school football coach who pays an ex-wife more than I care to admit, but it’s worth it to keep her out of my life.”
Simon raises his shot glass. “I’ll drink to that. To the Wicked Witch of the Exes being gone and to Betsy staying forever.”
“Hear hear!”
We all clink our shot glasses, before giving them a table tap then shooting them back.
Whiskey…
As soon as the liquid hits my throat I’m immediately taken back to last Saturday. I think for the rest of my life I’ll associate whiskey with Izzy. Yes, I know that sounds dramatic. And so what if it is? There was something about her that got under my skin, and apparently it’s not coming out for a long time.
“Okay, what the hell, dude?” Shane says, slamming his beer bottle on the table. “What the fuck is that look for?”
“What look?” I’m trying to play dumb but clearly my three best friends aren’t buying it.
“That one,” Shane says. “You had it the morning after the wedding. You have it now a week later. Is this because of Shannon? Because dude, and I say this with love as your best friend, get over it.”
“Which one was Shannon?” Wes asks.
“The one he proposed to while they were having sex,” Shane says.
“Wait!” Simon interrupts. “I thought I was his best friend?”
Shane shakes his head. “It was a figure of speech. I wasn’t assigning anyone best friend roles.”
“You better not be,” Simon says, sitting back, taking his bottle of beer with him. “Because we all know I’m Oliver’s best friend, and you and Wes are best friends.”
“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Shane says before turning back to me. “Now, back to you. Shannon wasn’t it, dude. She wasn’t the one. You’ve never been this down in the dumps about a woman before. So what is it?”
I take a sip of my beer to stall for a second, because I’m in a predicament I’ve never been in. I want to tell my friends about Izzy. I want to tell them about every single part of our night.
Well, not every part.
