Page 43 of Badd Baby

I stumbled to my feet, blearily peering around in search of the bathroom. Duncan was conked out on the couch with his head angled toward where mine had been—he was shirtless in a pair of black jeans, barefoot. His hair was messy and draped over his face, fluttering with his soft snoring exhalations. One door beside the giant screen was closed, the other open; the open door led to a bathroom, and I lurched toward it, unsteady on my feet.

After taking care of business, washing my hands, and splashing cold water on my face, I felt marginally less like warmed-over death. Now I just needed caffeine. The kitchen was in the basement of this boat—well, lower level, not a basement; I don't know shit about boats. But there was also a kitchenette up here; maybe there was a coffeemaker. I rounded the bar and poked around a bit, and found a pod coffee machine, a box of coffee pods, and a jug of distilled water.

A few minutes later, I had sweet, blessed coffee in a mug—there was no cream or sugar that I could find, but fuck it. I don't need it, I just prefer it. Right now, I was definitely a beggar and thus couldn't be a chooser. I found bottles of water in the fridge as well, and I took my coffee and a bottle of water out onto the deck, soaking up the early morning sunshine. I spent the next several minutes lounging in the sun, sipping coffee, trying to coerce memories from last night out of my alcohol-addled brain.

Mainly, I wanted to make sure I hadn't done anything stupid with Duncan.

It seems unlikely I'd have gotten re-dressed afterward if we had, but you never know—booze makes you do weird shit, man.

At some point, I heard noises from the saloon—a male grunt of pain, followed by a rough, raspy voice grumbling, "Ohhhh fuck me. Ow—too loud." A few minutes later, I heard the toilet flush, and then. "Oh, thank god, a coffeemaker."

I felt him approach from behind, and then he was gingerly lowering himself into the chair beside me, a mug full of coffee in one hand, a bottle of water in the other. He set the bottle between his thighs and opened his palm, revealing six pain reliever gel capsules.

He tossed three into his mouth, chased them with a long, gulping glug of water, and then proffered the other three to me with a wordless grunt.

I grunted back as I took them from him.

He sipped coffee, I sipped coffee, the sun shone too brightly, and somewhere a seaplane droned and a motorboat hummed.

After tossing back the last of his coffee, Duncan glanced at me. "You remember much of last night?"

I shook my head. "Bits and pieces. You?"

"Same." He tugged at a belt loop. "I'm still wearing pants, and you're fully dressed, so I don't think we did anything. Did we?"

"Don't think so. I'm not sure how, why, or when you lost your shirt, though."

"Eh," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "My shirt always vanishes when I drink. Dunno why."

I snickered, and immediately regretted it, wincing and closing my eyes as a wave of hangover headache surged through me at the noise. "Oh god, don't make me laugh."

"I…didn't? I dunno what's so funny about what I said."

I looked sadly into my empty mug. "Coffee all gone. I has a sad."

Duncan snickered, and then mirrored my groan and winced. "Oh, fuck. Laughing does hurt." He took my mug and shuffled back into the saloon, and I heard the noises of coffee being made, and then he returned with full mugs. "Here."

I accepted the mug with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Duncan."

He nodded. "Welcome."

"I was laughing because you're the shirtless guy at the party," I said. "There's always one guy who ends up shirtless after a couple of beers."

He snorted softly. "Yeah, that's me."

Not long later, Raquel and Hamish appeared on the deck, looking as ragged as Duncan and I did, clutching coffee and water and wincing at the sunlight.

No one said anything for a while, as we each tried to rouse ourselves into something resembling life.

A phone rang somewhere in the saloon.

"That's no my mobile," Hamish grumbled.

"Mine's in my purse in the room," Raquel said.

"My phone's been on vibrate since the day I got it," I said.

Duncan groaned. "It's mine. It's just so far away." With a heaving sigh, he lumbered to his feet and staggered into the saloon. "Hello? Oh, hey Uncle Brock. Uhhh…forget? Forget what?"