Page 128 of Stage Dive: Short Stories & Novellas
“Bangers and mash,” yelled the blond idiot.
Which scared my son so badly he burst into tears.Give me strength.
“It’s okay,” I said as Anne passed him to me.“Here we go, sweetie.Everything’s fine.Ignore the drunken idiots.”
Mal winced.“Sorry, little dude.”
“So you had a party, huh?”I asked.
David tried to focus on me, but I’m not sure he was entirely successful given all the blinking involved.“Just a little one.”
“You can’t even stand on your own, babe.”
“Um…” And the scent of scotch was so strong.His breath was pure fumes, just waiting for a flame.What a mess.
Jimmy’s gaze was full of apology.As if it were his fault his brother was in this condition.Grownups made their own choices.
“Put him on the couch.”I stepped out of the way.“Thank you.”
A week ago, it would have been no big deal.Of course, a week ago, it would have been unlikely to happen.The band sometimes had a few drinks together.There was a fair argument to be made that partying was part of the music industry.Celebrating achievements with a bottle of champagne.Shooting tequila before taking to the stage.It happened, but no one got hammered.Not like this.We were all mature responsible adults.Mostly.Okay.So if he did make a big night of it, he’d do it when we had nothing else going on.When a hangover didn’t matter.
“I’ll take this one home.”Anne grabbed Mal’s hand and tugged him toward the door with no small amount of determination.“See you later, Ev.”
“Bye.And thanks again.”
She just nodded.
“But Davie needs me,” said Mal.
“Read the room, Malcolm,” grouched his wife.“The party is over.”
“Oh, yeah.This room does not feel happy.Maybe it needs some fucking Feng Shui or something.What do you–”
And the door shut behind them.Thank God.One disaster (or drunk rock star) at a time was more than enough.
Jimmy frowned.“Ben bought a couple of bottles of some fancy scotch to celebrate the birth.It was only supposed to be a couple of drinks, but it got a bit out of hand.”
“Oh,” I said.
“I don’t feel so good,” mumbled David on the couch.His face had indeed gone pale.
“Bucket?”asked Jimmy.
“Grab a plastic container or a big bowl from the kitchen pantry.”I pointed the way.
Jimmy ran.
The baby kept fussing because he could smell his food source close by and was hungry.So I set up in my usual lounge chair on the other side of the room.Thank goodness for wrap tops making breastfeeding more accessible.While my son started suckling, I watched my husband turn an alarming shade of green.
Jimmy shoved the big metal bowl at David just in time for him to hurl.Oy vey.
I didn’t want to guess how much alcohol it would take to make him this sick.Or how fast he must have downed it.I’d only been asleep for a couple of hours.The band meeting at Ben’s house must not have been that long.
Jimmy disappeared again, returning with a wet face cloth, a glass of water, and some Advil.“Do you need anything, Ev?”
“I’m fine.Thanks.”
David groaned and sank back onto the couch.“Shit.What the hell was I thinking?”
