“No,wewill not,” Jake said.
“What’d you do, pinch the poor kid?” I asked.
“Let’s just say I didn’t know I could ruin a person’s day by giving him the wrong color sippy cup.”
“Purple, Jake. Always purple,” Casey said, laughing as she laid her hand on his leg. No further words needed to be passed between them. They understood each other at a deeper level. Like me and Jess. Or at least where I thought the two of us could go if given the chance. I was confident we’d get to the point where she could lay a hand on my thigh and all would be well.
“Who cares about Slater’s meltdown when we’ve got Quinn’s totally epic tantrum on stage last night?” Keith said. “Or are we all just going to pretend like it never happened?”
“I vote we pretend,” I answered.
“Dude, I gotta know what was going through your head,” Keith said.
“Obviously not much.” I shrugged. “I got mad.”
“You got mad?” Mom repeated.
“You know,” Keith continued, “I’m wondering if Quinn might have benefitted from more timeouts as a child.”
“We had a full-on Quinn Corner,” Dad countered. “I assure you, we tried.”
Mom ignored the others in her quest for details. “What’s your plan, Quinn? Are you considering going back?”
“To the show?” I asked, surprised she’d even thought that an option. “Obviously not.”
“Well, do they know that? The show made it seem like you were performing next week, so you might want to clarify that with them.”
“I plan to.”
“Good. And next time something like this happens, I’d really appreciate if you answered my texts. I was worried about you.”
“Next time?” I scoffed. “You act like I do this all the time.”
I was met with silence as if, yes, they all did think this was a recurring theme. I drew my head back, stunned. What fresh fuckery was this?
“It’s not that you do itallthe time, Quinn,” Emma said, trying to ward off my coming storm. “But you know how we are. A little communication goes a long way. What were you doing that was so important you couldn’t return a text?”
Avoiding you allwas what I wanted to say, but I held my tongue. In light of the day I’d spent with Jess, I hoped to be a better, more introspective man, so instead of arguing—which was my first instinct—I mimed throwing back a shot.
“Quinn!” Mom shook her head in disappointment. “I hope you’re joking.”
“Uh-huh,” I humored her. “Just joking.”
“No joke,” Kyle snitched. “I saw him this morning pre-shower. He looked like he’d been nibbled on by a gaggle of rats.”
“And did drinking solve any of your problems?” Mom asked.
“No. But it tasted good going down.”
“How about coming up?” Mitch inquired.
“I know how to hold my liquor, dickhead.”
“Less so how to hold onto a job.”
All heads turned to Jake and his coarse comment. Leave it to him to shut the room down. I could see my family nervously glancing around. Clearly, they’d had a discussion about my joblessness before I’d arrived.
“Dude,” I said, glaring at him. “Low-fucking-blow,”
