My stomach gurgles roughly at the sight of the slimy looking green concoction that is sitting in a plastic cup on the floor beside me. I think I’d better wait for that bucket before I attempt to drink it.
“Can I get some water?” I ask the room in general, because I can’t even tell who’s here. “And maybe all of the painkillers? Pretty sure I’m dying.”
“You and me both,” Johnny groans from his position on the floor. He hasn’t even sat up yet, so I’m doing alright. “What the hell did we do last night?”
“You drank a LOT of whiskey, and committed some crimes.” Devon laughs as he explains our shenanigans. I can sort of remember playing music with Johnny in my garage and calling Devon for a ride. But after that, it’s pretty fuzzy. If I committed crimes, though, it must involve a giant dick drawing on some deserving asshole’s property. That’s about the only type of crime I would commit. I would hardly even call that a crime. It’s more like a prank really, because the damage isn’t really permanent. I mean, even when I do the salted lawn thing, the person would only need to dig up the damaged soil and lay new sod. But I only do that to the worst offenders, so I don’t feel bad about that at all.
“Great,” I say, accepting the bottle of water and Advil that someone hands me. “So why are we at a gym, then?”
“Well, by the time I got you guys out of there, it was almost morning. So I figured why not get Ryder to come and let us into the gym. You guys could sleep a bit, I could work out, and then we could put you through the paces to get you sobered up,” Devon explains. “So drink up, water and smoothie, and then we’ll get started. Alex’s Pops says he has a special workout for you, guaranteed to make you sweat out all the alcohol.”
“I said puke it out, actually,” Pops yells from the back of the gym. “I guarantee you will puke before we’re through.” He laughs a maniacal old man laugh. “It’s been a while since I’ve made anyone puke. This is going to be fun.”
I force myself to stand up, even though my head pounds when I lift it. The green slime drink is in my hand, and I start sucking it back. It’s fucking disgusting. I gag just trying to swallow it, but when I try to tip my cup down, Devon is right there, tipping it back up to my lips.
“Drink up. Pops says this helps.”
Plugging my nose with my hand, like a kid with medicine, I choke the rest of the slippery concoction down, coughing a little as I swallow. It tastes like a mixture of lawn clippings, vomit, and kitty litter. I can’t see how this is supposed to help. I want to throw up more now than I did before I drank it.
“Buckets,” Ryder calls out, running back with the buckets just in time. The green shit is working its way back up as I lunge for a bucket. I hug it to my chest and proceed to forcefully vomit up the entire green drink plus water, Advil, and something that smells suspiciously like a distillery. So much for puking during the workout. I don’t think there’s anything left to come out now.
“Alright, let’s get this shit show going,” Pops yells at me and Johnny. “First things first: jumping rope. Grab ‘em off the hooks over there, start jumping, and don’t stop until I tell ya.”
Pops leads us through a lengthy workout, and I’m sad to say that I fail to stop myself from puking again. Johnny and I both throw up what looks to be way more than we drank last night. Unless, of course, we drank a lot more after we called Devon, but somehow I doubt that is the case.
We’re just that hungover.
Even after we have nothing left to puke up, we continue to dry heave. Pops seems to think that’s when things are just getting good though, because he pushes us even harder after that.
All told, the workout lasts about an hour and a half. After our jump rope warm up, Pops leads us through a series of strength and endurance exercises and then has us finish off with a series of enough burpees that I sort of want to come back later and burn this gym to the ground. I would never do that, of course, but I might be tempted to come and draw a giant dick on the front of the building in chalk. You know, just enough to be hilarious, but still easily washable.
“That was a fucking nightmare,” Johnny huffs out, dropping to the ground as he finishes his last burpee. I’m still a few behind him, but when I finish, I join him on the floor.
“I’m never drinking again,” I promise, like I’m a teenager with his first hangover, instead of a fully grown man who should already know better.
“Yeah, I’m regretting drinking that much last night too.” Johnny rolls onto his stomach. “Oh, that feels nice,” he says, spreading his arms and legs on the rubber floor, letting it cool him.
“How’re the hangovers, boys?” Pops asks, leaning over us where we lie. “I got some whiskey in my desk. Who wants a drink?”
“No fucking way,” and “Get that shit away from me,” Johnny and I say over top of each other, laughing.
Surprisingly, I don’t think there’s much space left in my agony filled body for a hangover to reside. Aside from being tired and worn out from the workout, I feel pretty good. In fact, I could really go for some breakfast now.
“Hey Dev, can you bring me home so I can shower and change? I want to go out for some breakfast but I smell like a sweaty stool in a dirty dive bar.”
“Ugh, fine. But you’re sitting in the back, and we’re keeping all the windows open. Sweaty stool in a dirty dive bar doesn’t even come close to describing your stench. Johnny, I’ll drive you too.” Devon turns to the door. “Thanks for the help, Pops. Much obliged.”
“Anytime, boys. You come see me for a workout whenever you like. Any friend of Alex is a friend of mine. Oh, before you boys leave,” he says, pointing to me and Johnny, “you go wash out your own buckets. I don’t pay anyone enough to do that for you. And even if I did, I’d still make you do it yourself.” He laughs as he turns to climb the stairs to his office, which is really just a platform surrounded by a chain-link fence, since this place doesn’t have a second story, despite the high ceilings.
Johnny and I take care of our mess, and then we head out with Devon. Ryder is sticking around at the gym to talk to Pops about the Jiu Jitsu classes he teaches in his off time. He’s really become a responsible, community minded guy since he married Denise. Being an actual adult has been good for him.
Right now I’m just hoping that a shower and some breakfast will help me recover some of my memories from last night. I’m not sure exactly what I did, but I’m pretty sure it was stupid.
Worse than that, I’m pretty sure it involved Rhea somehow. After the way I bolted after we slept together, I just hope I didn’t give her any more reason to be mad. I fucked up badly enough as it is. The last thing I need is to hear that I said or did something stupid to her while I was blackout drunk. If I’m going to be supporting her through a pregnancy, it would be a lot easier if she didn’t completely hate me at the same time.
Chapter 27
Rhea - Running from Problems
