Duncan steps forward, body tensing up. I take his sleeve subtly, pull on it.
“Relax, Glass,” he says to Dad, words low and spaced out. “It’s no big deal. We just went for a walk.”
“Have you been drinking, too?”
Duncan just glowers at him.
“You two are always ganging up on me,” Dad complains, before he turns around and stalks off back toward the function room, and Duncan and I walk slowly in his fuming wake.
“What an asshole,” I say. “I really don’t like him. God, I wish we could get out of here.”
“Then let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“How?”
“Easy. I’ll do my rounds, and I’ve got a fight in two days I need to prepare for. You’ve got classes tomorrow, and you’re my ride home tonight.”
“But I’m not your ride home tonight. I didn’t even bring my car. Dad had Frank pick me up in the limo. God, like I needed his limo pulling up to my dorm building with everyone watching.”
“Come on, just stick with me.”
“I can handle Dad myself, you know.”
“I know you can, Dee,” he says, stopping me, taking my hand. He presses it to his mouth, playfully bites one of my fingers.
I cast a quick look down the hallway to see Dad disappearing into the function room, his jacket flapping behind him.
“And?”
“But if we make it about me, he won’t crawl up your ass about it.”
“I don’t need you to take the fall for me.”
“He’s afraid of me. I won’t be taking any fall.”
I sigh, pull my hand from him slowly. “I just shouldn’t have to live like this. I thought moving out, leaving home, would get me out from under his shadow, but he’s always over me, Duncan. He just never leaves me alone.”
“Dee,” he says. “Just a little bit longer.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ll see. Now come on, follow my lead.”
Duncan and I walk back into the function room, and he immediately goes to the bar.
“Scotch and soda.”
The old man does a double take. “I thought you weren’t drinking?”
“Scotch… and… soda.”
The bartender pours the drink in a hurry, puts it on the bar in front of Duncan.
He turns around with the glass, and walks into the crowd of people, and he’s swaying as he walks, and he’s off-balance.
He downs the glass in front of everybody, chats with a few people, shares too-loud laughs, then wanders back to the bar.
“Another scotch and soda!” he barks. The bartender obliges.
The crowd of people part, and I see Dad walking toward us, barely concealed rage on his face.
“What the fuck are you doing, Duncan? You know you shouldn’t be drinking. You’ve got a fight in—”
“Hey, it’s a party!” Duncan shouts, then almost trips, and spills the drink all over himself. “Oh, fuck!” he bellows, meeting my eyes for a moment but not once losing character. He bursts out laughing, grips onto his knees, then stumbles forward, dropping the glass onto the floor. It shatters.
I have to look away to keep from laughing.
“God damn it,” Dad growls at Duncan. “You’re a fucking hot-shot MMA fighter and you can’t even hold your fucking liquor.”
“Hell yes I fucking can!” Duncan says, slurring his words.
Dad sighs. “Go home and sleep it off before you embarrass me even more.”
“I c-can’t drive,” he says. “Well, I probably could, but, you know, I-I don’t think it’s a good idea—”
“I’ll have Frank drive you home.”
Frank Marsh, dad’s loyal protector of twenty years, his number one. A large man who keeps a sawn-off shotgun dangling down his side, veiled by his customary trench coat.
“No!” Duncan says, throwing two clumsy hands onto Dad’s chest. “Frank’s your bodyguard! He can’t leave you unprotected, man.” He lowers his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “You’ve got enemies here. Let Dee take me.”
Dad looks to me, and it’s the hardest fucking thing to keep my face straight.
“Oh, to hell with it, take him to his apartment, Deidre. Jesus H Christ!”
Dad retreats back into the crowd, muttering strained apologies to everybody.
Duncan embellishes, throws his arm around my shoulder, leans his weight on me.
“Damn, you’re heavy,” I whisper at him, walking him toward the door, smiling politely at people who stare our way.
“I think I’m going to puke!” he announces to Frank as we pass him.
Once we get through the main doors, Duncan’s gait returns immediately to normal, with more than his usual amount of cocky swagger.