Then he takes over firing off the questions. We answer most of them the same, which at first I find surprising, but then I realize it’s probably the questions. Everyone prefers fall over spring, morning over evening, would rather be accurate than fast, but would still pick super speed over other super powers, and would choose vanilla ice cream over chocolate, right?
Right.
I think.
I’m not sure how long we have been drinking.
Or how he is still coming up with questions.
Wait, what time is it?
And when was the last time I lost track of time?
4
JANIE
“Why are you so good at this?” I say. Yell? Yeah, I’m yelling.
“At?”
I burp, “Ugh! Sorry, excuse me. Good at drinking so much!”
“University?” He finishes another shot and pounds his chest. “Keeping up with old wankers trying to get me sloshed at the pub? Why are you so awful at it?”
“I don’t like losing control. Why does Las Vegas keep having earthquakes?”
He laughs again as we settle in at the counter of another Vegas bar. He insisted we change locations, I insisted the next drink would be my last. “I think you should switch to water, love.”
“I did two drinks ago.”
His brows go up. “I thinkIshould switch to water.”
“Probably so,” I chuckle. “So, have you had enough to spill the beans yet?”
“Have you? What’s the deal with dear old Granny?”
“Just Gran. And…I found myself in a bit of a…situation.” He leans in to listen. “The broke kind.” He frowns, disbelieving. He knows I’m good with numbers. I sigh and will myself not to blush. Or go pale. I think another text came in while we were walking, so I should be equally mortified and terrified but the alcohol is doing its thing. “Can we establish a drunken cone of silence on this conversation?”
“A vodka vault,” he nods.
“Have we had vodka?”
“Surely.”
“Ok, so a vault?”
“Bitter beer black box. Sworn to scotch secrecy.”
“Please stop,” I smile as I say it. He nods, also smiling, his eyes looking glassy as hell. He probably won’t even remember this conversation. “Okay, well, hardly anyone knows this, hence the vault. My brother is…a mess. He’s a gambler and an addict, sometimes those two over…over…”
“Overlap?”
“That!” I say lifting my hand up to point and almost falling off the stool. “He got into trouble and helping him, uh…wiped out my savings.”
“Bloody hell.”
“Gets worse,” I say. “It’s just me and him and my Gran. We’re all we’ve got. And right before he did that, I’d just splurged to move Gran into a premium rate care facility, which she needs. I was going to sell her townhouse back home but it needs a lot of work and it’s paid off. Hard to pass up a free place to stay.”
