“If I didn’t go gay for Dennis’ luscious locks, I’m not going gay for anyone.” I laugh.
“They were pretty sexy.” He chuckles. “Come back to the restaurant. We will figure the band stuff out later, but for now, let’s celebrate our wins.”
“No thanks,” I say. “I’ll apologize later, but right now I kind of just want to be alone.”
“Ben.” He studies me over, looking for any signs he needs to be concerned about my well-being. I’m used to that look. I’ve seen it far too many times. “You know if you ever really needed me, I’d be there in a heartbeat.”
“I know.” I nod. “And same to you. And them.”
“It was good seeing you.” He sighs.
“Yeah.” I nod back toward the restaurant. “You better get back to your girl before she loses a fight with her dinner.”
“Yeah.” He nods, glancing toward the building. I can almost hear his thoughts. For him this is a rock and a hard place. Does he go back and save Abbey or stay and rescue me? The choice is far too easy for him. I watch as it kills him to make it. “See you soon, okay?”
“Yeah. See you soon.”
I stand on the sidewalk, smoking my cigarette and watching Wes head back to the restaurant. He keeps his head down as he walks, probably stressing about what dumb decision I’m going to make because of this.
I’ve already made plenty of dumb decisions this week. Ones he would frown upon and lose sleep over, like letting Prue suck my dick in a college bathroom and making a scene in her classroom.
I’ve spent the last two days trying not to think about it to be honest. Each hour she didn’t contact me felt like a blessing disguised as utter agony. I tried to distract myself. Went out, flirted with girls, but never took one home.
Hard to want to fuck someone else when the girl who gave you the best blow job of your life could text you at any moment.I wanted to be free when she finally reached out. Didn’t want to miss the chance of knowing how good her other talents could be.
When she texted me just before dinner I chose not to respond, though. It killed me. Sitting at that table, with people I thought were my best friends, itching to message her back, but not wanting to pass up on the chance to have a good time with them.
Prue might be the only pussy I want to fuck right now, but no pussy is worth missing out on the rare occasion my friends actually want to see me.
Now I wish I blew them off to see her. Would’ve saved me a lot of misery.
Deep down I already knew how they felt, but hearing it, seeing it, really sucked. The reality that I’m losing them is starting to sink in.
Aaron is going to have a baby. Wes is going to stay with Abbey until one or both of them dies. Who knows when Nicolas will lock down whatever his girl’s name is. Dennis will eventually find that dream girl he keeps looking for. All of them will go make themselves a new life, one where they don’t need me.
I ponder these thoughts in a state of pity as I walk the streets of LA. Set on finding me some hole in the wall bar where I can drink myself stupid.
Tonight, I don’t want anyone’s company. I want to drink until I can’t see straight as I accept that my whole world is crumbling. My dreams are becoming ruins and the family I thought I had has outgrown me, just like Prue said.
I’m falling to the waste side, just as she predicted the night we met.
“You aren’t driving, are you?” the bartender asks, setting another double of whiskey in front of me.
“No. If you keep pouring until closing, I promise to leave you the biggest tip of your life.”
He nods before walking to the other side of the bar.
I’m sitting at some small dive bar, with classic rock songs playing way too loud. I’ve had about three double of whiskeys as I sit on a stool toward the end of the bar. There is a nice exit nearby, where I can step out to smoke a cigarette from time to time.
Some bikers sit at a table eating and chugging beers. An older couple are perched on a high top in the opposite corner, drinking like this is the highlight of their miserable week.
The bartender is working a solo shift and nodding along to eighties rock music.
Here I don’t have to worry about some girl trying to flirt with me. No one knows or cares that I’m a famous guitarist in a big band. I can just sit here and get shit faced.
Let myself get absolutely wrecked. All by myself. Completely alone as I wallow in self-pity. Drown in it even. Let the loneliness consume me.
It’s probably not healthy. Wes wouldn’t approve. My mother would be disappointed. I have a habit of letting myself return to my self-destructive habits, time and time again. Why should now be any different? Learning no one wants to spend their time with me is worthy of a dose of alcohol poisoning, right?
