I checked the message.
Babe, answer your phone. We need to talk about this. I cannot believe you just left without me. What am I supposed to do?
Fuck that noise. I turned my entire phone off.
“God, can we get fucked up before this thing tonight?” I asked in desperation. Alcohol would numb the pain for a night.
“Now that I can help with,” Austin said with a grin.
I probably shouldn’t be contributing to my brother’s alcoholism, but fuck, I needed a drink. Austin had been drinking heavily ever since our dad died ten years ago from an overdose. Golf had always helped me manage my vices and the characteristic Wright addictive personality. I didn’t know if I’d end up just like my old man without it.
Twenty minutes later, we showed up at Austin’s house in Tech Terrance. He’d had it gutted and redesigned after he’d closed on it. So, even though the construction was built in the sixties, the house was brand new. It had the advantage of being located within walking distance of all the best bars, which I thought was the reason he’d bought it. But this also meant I could walk my drunk ass to and from the reunion down the street.
Austin parked in the garage, and we entered the house. After depositing my suitcase in his guest bedroom on the first floor, I came back out to find Austin already at the wet bar. It was fully stocked with as much alcohol as the nearest liquor store. It even had some top shelf whiskey that wasn’t available in stores, but had to be purchased straight from the distributor. He took drinking very seriously. Maybe the only thing he took that seriously.
Austin poured me a glass of whiskey, and I sank into the sofa. Austin crashed back into the chair, and turned on the big screen to sports center. It was at that exact moment that golf stats were on for the British Open, a tournament that I should have been at.
I downed my entire glass in one gulp. “Which one did you pour me?”
Austin gave me a strange look as if he knew something was wrong, but he didn’t say anything. He just changed the channel.
“Help yourself.”
That was the best thing about Austin.
He didn’t pry.
We sat around for a couple hours, watching some baseball game neither of us cared about and drinking ourselves stupid. When it was almost time for me to go to Flips for the reunion , Austin finally turned to look at me directly.
“Bro, you should probably come up with a story to tell Jensen,” Austin said.
“About what?” I played dumb.
“Whatever the fuck you’re dealing with. You know he’s going to ask, and you’re a shit liar.”
“I’m not dealing with anything.”
“Like I said,” Austin said, refilling my glass one last time. “Shit liar.”
I laughed and raised my glass to him. “Maybe I’ll just tell him the truth.”
“Nah, you won’t. That’s not the Wright way.”
Now, that was a true statement. We were a family of five ranging from thirty-three to twenty-two, and we hid the truth from each other like we were made for it. We’d learned that from our long dead parents. Our mother had never told us about her cancer, and our father had lied even on his dying breath about the alcohol. Maybe it was the Wright way.
Still, I didn’t argue with him on that point. I’d deal with Jensen when I had to.
With my head sufficiently foggy, I changed into a pair of khakis and light blue button-up. Then I waved good-bye to Austin and walked the few scant blocks to Flips. The last time I’d been there, I’d just found out that Jensen and Emery were dating. What a fucking weird night, and I was really hoping not to have another one like that tonight. I just wanted to get tanked, talk to some of my old friends, and forget about the shit I’d left behind.
I signed in at the front and then angled straight for the bar on the left side of the room. I’d almost made it when Jensen stepped right in front of me. Great. Just the person I didn’t want to talk to about my problems.
“Hey,” Jensen said.
“Hey, bro.”
“Where’s Miranda?” he asked, looking over my head.
“Don’t know. Where’s Emery?”
Jensen pointed over my head, and I saw Emery leaning over the bar in an all-black ensemble gesturing to the bartender, Peter.
“What do you mean you don’t know where your wife is? I’d rather not have her run into Emery. She still acts like a…” Jensen looked at me and his eyes said that the word he was looking for was psychopath, but he didn’t want to say it in front of me. “Well, she doesn’t like Emery.”
“Nothing to worry about then, because I didn’t bring her,” I said and then tried to push past him to get my drink.