How We Deal With Gravity(71)
“Mason, dude, come on. Just give me one more twenty. I swear this is the last. I need to have a little one-on-one sesh with MaryAnne. Come on, buddy,” Ben says, leaning heavy into my arm. I know if I moved too quickly he’d fall flat on his face, and I’m tempted. But it’s more tempting to give him the twenty so he’ll leave.
Matt and Ben are practically making out with two of the girls. There’s always been a loose ‘hands off’ rule at Spanks—that’s why we’ve always come here. It started when we were seventeen, and Ben found a guy to make us fake IDs. Usually, after a few hours of lap dances, I’ve picked out a girl and taken her to the bathroom for a little bonus, but everyone in here looks different to me tonight—it all seems sad and pathetic.
“How about you, baby? You want some of this?” one girl says, running her hands up her body and squeezing her tits together just to jiggle them in front of my face. I’m pretty f*ckin’ buzzed, but I haven’t drank enough to make me want that. All I want is Avery.
“No thanks…but I tell ya what. I’ll give you this twenty, and how about you make that guy’s day over there and hang out with him and your friend,” I say, tucking my last bill in the side string of her panties and pointing over to Ben and…what was her name? MaryAnne?
The girl pulls the twenty from her hip and stashes it in a small pouch tied to her wrist, then she rolls her body against mine just once before she leaves, just to show me what I’m missing. I can feel my pants get a little tighter on instinct, but my head is still on straight, despite how drunk I truly am, and I keep my hands to myself and watch her walk away.
I have half a beer left, and I finish that off along with one last shot and then I find Matt to let him know I’m leaving. “I got things, man. But hey, let’s hook up tomorrow, okay? You keep an eye on that one, make sure he doesn’t land his ass in jail,” I say, throwing my head backward to where Ben is now in heaven with two strippers at once.
When I stumble from Spanks, I’m struck by how cold it is outside. When we came to the bar, it was maybe five or so in the afternoon. Still in only a T-shirt and my jeans, I beep open the back of my car and look for a jacket. I find a nasty old gray sweatshirt, so I put that on just to stay warm and then walk over to the edge of the parking lot to pick up a cab. That’s always been my line—I don’t drive drunk, and neither do any of the guys. I drove us here, so someone will give me a lift back to my car tomorrow.
“Hey, I need to get to…” I pause for a second, suddenly not able to remember Avery’s address. “Ah hell man, you know where Dusty’s is in Cave Creek? Get me there and then I’ll walk you through the rest.”
The driver just nods at me, and I settle back into the corner of the cab, my head resting against the window. The closer we get to Cave Creek, the less lights there are along the road until finally the sky is pitch black. I don’t know what made me look up, or why I even decided to sit like this for the ride home, but in that very second I see a white light streak across the sky and my heart falls into my feet.
Max!
I pull my phone from my pocket, and when I realize it’s 10:45, I go into a full-on panic attack. “I’m sorry, I just realized I’m late for something. Can you drive a little faster? I swear man, I’ll pay for your ticket,” I clutch the seat in front of me, half considering diving from the car and just sprinting the rest of the way home.
I feel the car move a little faster, but it’s never fast enough. The driver gets me to Dusty’s, and I still see Ray’s truck in the lot, which for some reason makes me feel a little better. At least he doesn’t know what a huge, f*cking * I am. I give the driver directions for the last few blocks and hand him my credit card the second he pulls up in front of Avery’s house. I’m waiting at his window for him to hand it back to me, and when he does I literally bolt inside.
The house is dark—completely dark. I try to control my breathing so I can listen to see if I hear anyone, but there’s nothing. I race up the stairs, slipping on the middle few and banging my shin hard against the steps, gashing open the front of my leg. “Shit!” I say.
I push open my door and fling on the light, but no one is there. The bed is empty, and Max’s pillow and sheets are gone. For some reason, this makes me worry even more, so I race to the other end of the hall and stop at his and Avery’s door, holding my hand to my forehead and closing my lips tightly, trying not to make any noise even though I’m panting and my stomach is churning with the want to throw up. I don’t hear anything, but I’m not sure that I would. I turn the handle on his door slowly and push it open gently, careful not to let it squeal, and when I see his body laying stiff in his bed, arms straight out next to him and his eyes shut tightly, I collapse to my knees. He’s sleeping—and I watch him for a good two minutes to make sure he’s really sleeping, not just pretend sleeping.
I manage to get the door closed, and I slowly walk back to the steps. My body is drenched in sweat now, so I pull the sweatshirt over my head and throw it at my door before climbing back down the stairs to the kitchen. The lights are all off downstairs, but I can see a hint of light coming from the back yard, so I take a deep breath and push the back door open, following the sound of sweeping.
Avery’s back is to me, and she’s sweeping thousands of tiny pieces of glass into a pile in front of the trashcan. I can hear her sniffle every few seconds, and it breaks my f*cking heart. I can’t believe I did this—I can’t believe I forgot, that I missed something so important.