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“Right you are! Fucking drunk.”
He sighs. “Sleep it off.”
“Where?”
“Aren’t you home?”
“Nope. Sitting in the park-like a bum. Just me and old Jackie boy.”
“Go home.”
“Can’t. She’ll be there.”
“Who? Olivia? What the fuck happened?”
“Jakey boy. The Australian wonder ass. He showed up.”
“You mean that guy she was dating last year?”
“That’s him! Fucking sneaky snake took her right out from under me. Yep, Jake the snake.”
“You can’t stay out all night. You’ll get arrested.”
“You’re my only friend,” I confide. “The only one that gives a shit. Just like with Cassie.”
“That’s not true. You know it isn’t.”
“Ya’ gotta get me. I need to crash.”
“Fuck!” he mutters, then adds, “I have a date.”
“Oh, well, if pussy is more important than me, then sure, go right ahead.”
“Dammit, Lucian. Where are you?”
I tell him where I’m sitting, and he says to stay put. In a half-hour, he’s walking through the park dressed in a tuxedo and a long dark wool coat, coming to get me.
“Lookit, Mr. Fancy Pants.”
“Can you walk?” he asks.
“Maybe not. Want to carry me?”
“Not on your life. Stand up. My car is parked a few blocks away.”
I do as he asks, and my stomach shifts. The almost half a bottle of Jack works its way up my throat, and I bend over to vomit. Zane jumps back to avoid getting his spiffy black shoes drenched.
“Geez, Luc. How much of that shit did you drink?”
Answering his own question, he picks up the bottle from the bench and empties the rest of it onto the pavement, then discards it in a nearby trash can. I’m fighting a second wave of vomit when he comes back.
“You done?”
“For now,” I answer weakly.
“If you mess up my Porsche, I’m going to kick your ass.”
“Take it easy,” I dismiss, swaying. “I think I’m okay.”
