Page 35 of Damnation
He scratches his forehead with his index finger before sighing resignedly. “Fine. What do you want to eat?”
“A big plate of empanadas, extra beef, extra spice!” Vince answers excitedly on my behalf.
“I didn’t ask you,” Thomas hisses through gritted teeth, never taking his eyes off me. I try to stifle a laugh because their bickering has taken on a real Shrek and Donkey vibe. If I shared this thought, Thomas would probably ghost me on the spot.
“Anything’s good,” I say simply. “Although, I don’t think there are a lot of options at this time of night.”
“What a coincidence!” Vince says, clapping his hands together. “I just happen to know of a little place near here that is part of a chain of Mexican restaurants and is open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week!” he continues, drawing Thomas’s ire.
With a smile and a shrug, I decide to back Vince up. “Sounds good to me.”
Thomas frowns at me. “You sure? We can look for something else. We don’t have to just go where he wants,” he says, shooting Vince a dirty look.
I’m about to tell him that Vince’s suggestion seems like a good one, but we are interrupted by the girls coming back toward us. Tiffany—who is also looking disheveled and exhausted—is holding Leila up with an arm around her waist.
“Hey, how are you feeling? A little better at least?” I ask Leila, going to meet them.
“It’s a shit show,” she says, barely managing to keep her eyes open. Her brow is heavily furrowed, and her voice is shockingly low and shaky.
Vince follows the girls with his eyes, bewildered. “Dude, what the hell’s up with your sister?”
Thomas just sighs and shakes his head, refusing to discuss the topic. “Come on, JC. Get in my car so I can drive you home, and we’ll come back for yours tomorrow,” he says, pulling the car keys out of his jeans pocket.
Then he gets into the driver’s seat, puts the key in the ignition, and starts the SUV. The girls take seats in the back, and I move around to the passenger side. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Vince following me, but the moment he puts his hand on a door handle, Thomas leaps out of the car. He leans his forearms on the roof and says: “And what do you think you’re doing, Vince?”
Vince looks over the roof of the car at him and replies as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world: “Getting in.”
“To my car?”
“I can’t drive in this condition; you have a moral obligation to take me with you.”
“Nope.”
“You will, though.”
“I called you a ride.”
“And, as you can see, it’s not here.”
“So I’ll call you another one.”
“Or you could stop being a dick.”
My eyes dart back and forth avidly between the two of them. I am thoroughly enjoying this dialectical ping-pong between alpha males.
Finally, Thomas gives in, bowing his head. When he looks up, he points a finger at him. “If you mess up my car, you’re dead,” he threatens.
Vince laughs, but when he notices the seriousness of Thomas’s face, his smile disappears.
I hop in as well, my head still fuzzy from everything that went down tonight. We leave ClubSeven behind us, along with the bass vibrations that dissipate into the night and shouts of young people in the parking lot.
Both of the girls want to go home instead of hitting the Mexican place—they just want to curl up under the covers. We make a pit stop on campus to take Leila to her room before heading to Tiffany’s house.
“Thanks for taking care of Leila tonight,” I say when we drop Tiffany off. I squeeze her tightly, and she hugs me back.
“It was the least I could do; I still feel bad about letting her get like that,” she answers mournfully as we pull away from one another.
“Eh, it wasn’t your fault. In fact, I’m the one who’s sorry for putting that on you. Leila’s having a rough time right now, and she probably would have gotten drunk regardless,” I say, rubbing her shoulders in what I hope is a comforting way.
