A man shorter than Riley strutted up to them. He sported aFederal Bikini InspectorT-shirt. “Either of you ladies wanna find my wallet for me?” he cackled and grabbed his crotch through his jean shorts.
“Men are pigs,” Kellen said.
“Amen, brother,” the bartender agreed.
“Listen, Short Stop. If you don’t get your nonexistent ass out of my way in two seconds, I’ll make sure you never stand up straight again,” Jasmine said.
“I don’t suppose you could use your legs to hold some of your weight, could you, Kellen?” Riley asked through gritted teeth as the tiny man slunk away.
“Hey! Whaddaya know? My legs work,” Kellen said, standing upright.
“It’s a miracle.” Riley wheezed a sigh of relief.
“Aha!” Jasmine held up the wallet in triumph. She handed it to Riley, who snatched the tab off the bar and threw down some cash.
“Hey, guys. Let’s take a smelfie,” Kellen suggested as they started for the door. “We can send it to Bethame and show her that I’m super fun and awesome, and she should feel like a jerk for everything.”
“That’s a great idea. I just need to make you look extra fun first,” Jasmine said as they helped him toward the door.
“You’re not gonna make me wear a Hawaiian shirt, are you?”
“No. I’m just going to draw a handlebar mustache on your face with permanent marker.”
“Okay.”
* * *
Tres Hermanos wasan authentic Mexican restaurant on Cameron Street with the best tacos al pastor on the East Shore. The hostess didn’t bat an eyelash at Kellen’s drunken state…or his new mustache, which arched gracefully down on the left but slashed up on a diagonal toward his ear on the right due to a poorly timed sneeze.
“Wanna see me blow bubbles in my margarita?” Kellen asked, trying to find the straw with his mouth.
Jasmine slapped it out of his drink.
“Hey! I was gonna use that,” he complained.
“How about you eat one or ten of these tacos to soak up the gallon of scotch you drank?” Riley suggested, pushing his plate closer.
He picked up a taco and then put it down again. “And another thing—not only did my own sister fake her own disappearance and make me think she was dead somewhere. But my own mother knew she left town with her dumb boyfriend-husband and let me think she was dead somewhere. You know why?”
Riley shook her head but didn’t speak because she had a mouthful of tacos.
“Why?” Jasmine asked, egging him on.
“Because she’s an intolerant, cold-hearted, frowny-faced jerk who cares more about soap-carved Jesuses than her own family.”
Riley swallowed. “Kellen, I’m sorry you’re dealing with all of this right now. But you don’t want to be dealing with thisanda hangover tomorrow. Please eat a taco.”
“I never get hungovered because I never drink too much because I’m a responsible adult.”
“A responsible adult with a lustrous mustache,” Jasmine said.
“Neither one of them told me the truth. Once again, Beth didn’t want to face the consequences of her stupid, dumb actions. And Mom didn’t want to be embarrassed in the eyes of Soap Jesus. So they both let me think my sister was dead!”
Kellen ended his last sentence at several decibels higher than necessary.
Everyone in the restaurant swiveled to look at them.
“He’s telling us about his soap opera,” Riley explained.
