“Why don’t you apologize to her, mate?” Jack asked without taking his eyes off the TV.
“For what? I don’t even know what I would apologize for.”
“For being the idiotic wanker you are. You don’t need more reason than that.” His lips tugged up at the corners, enjoying my plight way more than he should.
I frowned and got up to grab another beer from the fridge. “You’re supposed to be on my side. What the hell, man. Some friend you are.”
He snickered from the couch like he thought I was in the wrong. As if he knew more about this than I did.
“Doyouknow why she’s mad at me?” I asked, pointing my beer at him accusingly.
He shrugged. “I was here when she came to talk to Liv.”
“Well, tell me! It’s bro code.”
There was something seriously wrong with the fact everyone knew the secret to why Eve hated me. Except me.
He gave Olivia a sideways glance. “Fiancée code trumps bro code. Sorry, mate.”
“Now you’re just making shit up! Fiancée code isn’t a thing. And even if it were, it shouldn’t trump bro code.”
“Oh, it’s a thing. And if I want to get certain perks, then it most certainly will always trump bro code.”
“Touché.” I slunk back to the chair with the bag of chips and spent the rest of the night sullenly wracking my brain, trying to solve the mystery of Eve’s hatred.
After the amount of beer I drank at Jack’s, I decided I wasn’t fit to drive. Or Jack decided when he hid my keys from me.
Either way, I found myself in a cab that smelled like sweaty ballsack with a driver who looked as if he hadn’t showered in a week.
I shut my eyes against the pounding that had started in my head. When you were this close to 30 and overindulged in alcohol, you always paid a price. It was as if God decided that once you reached full adulthood, you should figure out your shit without the help of alcohol, and if you didn’t, then he would remind you of all the reasons alcohol wasn’t the answer.
I had hoped that the alcohol would numb my annoyance. Why should I have to deal with Eve’s wrath when I didn’t even know the real reason for it?
In my drunken stupor, the idea of calling Eve and asking her exactly what I’d done to piss her off seemed like a good one.
I had a right to know. She should tell me.
All the reasons that this was a bad idea faded after my eighth beer. And now, I just wanted to know what the fuck I did to get her little panties in such a twist that she had to spew vitriol my way every time we were together.
I scrolled through my contacts until I found her number and hit the call button. It rang 6 times before she finally answered.
“O’Connor, to what do I owe the displeasure?” she intoned.
“Hey princess, I’ve got a score to settle with you,” I said.
The cabbie chuckled in the front, glancing at me with a patronizing look.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“I’m in a putrid cab with a filthy driver and I’m pretty sure there’s something rotting in here.” I smirked as the cabbie’s eyes narrowed in the rearview mirror, staring daggers at me in the backseat.
Good. I’d wanted him to hear me. He should think twice before doling out the condescending looks to his patrons.
“How is that my fault? Are you drunk?”
“Only a little,” I answered, trying to keep from slurring my words.
“Oh God. I’m hanging up now.”
