“Nah, I’ll do it.”
Lee and Brix disappeared, Brix to the bar, and Lee to the car park to deliver Rocky, the world’s quietest dog, to her sister.
Brix returned first, laden with enough whiskey and vodka to make Calum’s eyes water. “Lee been telling you her life story?”
Calum nodded and struggled to make his tongue work, belatedly realising how drunk he was. Oops. “She told me you’re her knight in shining armour too.”
Brix snorted. “Hardly. I just saw a kid who deserved better. She got this far on her own. Stubborn little git, that one.”
That Calum could believe. “I like her.”
“You should. She’s an amazing artist. I’ve been trying to persuade her to put her ink on canvas for years, but she won’t have it.”
“That’s ’cause I don’t fucking want to, douche bag. Skin is my canvas, just like it’s yours.” Lee reclaimed her seat with her trademark scowl firmly in place. “Are we ditching this shithole, or what?”
Brix necked a whiskey. “To go where? The Slug and Lettuce with all the chavs? I’m too old for that, love. So is Cal.”
“I’m not as old as you,” Calum slurred. “Definitely too drunk, though. I wanna kebab.”
Brix laughed. “In Porthkennack? On a Sunday? Dude, you can’t even buy a bag of sugar after nine o’clock.”
Calum frowned, so attuned to London’s twenty-four-hour world that he couldn’t picture one where he couldn’t get a kebab at—he glanced at his watch—nine fifteen. “I don’t want any sugar, but I do need a piss. Where’s the bog?”
Brix pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “By the dartboard.”
“Ta.” Calum hiccupped and stood. The warm rush of too much booze swept over him, but instead of the black shame he’d endured when he’d downed the rum on the train, this buzz was good—really good—and the long-neglected devil in him wanted to drink a hell of a lot more.
He found the gents’ toilets and relieved himself. After, he washed his hands in the tiny sink and stared at himself in the cracked mirror. His eyes were bloodshot from a bellyful of ale and whiskey, but for the first time in days he felt human. Lucky me.
Calum returned to the table to find Lee getting ready to leave.
“She’s off to the chav hole,” Brix said by way of explanation. “Wants to drink bubble-gum vodka and listen to bad house music.”
“Oh.” Calum tried to hide his distaste, but apparently failed as Lee rolled her eyes and punched his arm.
“I’m going to meet my missus, thank you very much. You’re just jealous, both of you, ’cause you ain’t getting any.”
Brix looked away, apparently distracted by gathering their empty glasses into a neat stack. Calum merely shrugged. He and Rob hadn’t had sex in months, which made sense now he knew for sure that Rob had been getting fucked elsewhere. ’Cause you weren’t man enough to do it, remember?
The lull in Calum’s black mood evaporated. He reached for his drink and necked it, feeling the warm ale gurgle down into his stomach. Suddenly, stumbling back to Brix’s cottage and passing out in his borrowed bed seemed like the best idea ever. Perhaps he didn’t need another drink after all.
Maybe sensing the shift in Calum, Brix drank up too, stood, and pulled Lee’s hat sideways. “Who are you meeting? Just Vicky?”
Lee righted her hat. “And her sister, and yes, we’re walking home together. Jeez. Don’t go all mother hen on me now. You’ve had all night.”
Brix pulled a face, clearly unrepentant. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the dirt hole, then I better get Mr. Pisshead home.”
“Hey.” Calum stood up, but coherent thought abandoned him as he began the complicated task of shrugging into his coat, and he could think of nothing else to say.
They took their glasses to the bar and left the pub, stepping outside into the brisk air. Calum shivered, for some reason feeling the cold more than he had that morning up on the cliffs. “Where are we going?”
“Home,” Brix said. “With a quick detour on the way. That cool?”
“Yeah, I’m cool.”
Brix chuckled. “Yes, you are. Coolest motherfucker I’ve ever known. You’re the only one don’t know that shit.”
He turned away before Calum could formulate a sensible response, and they set off in the direction of the seafront, Lee arm-in-arm between Calum and Brix, sandwiched protectively, though she seemed the least drunk of all of them, despite her petite frame.
