Page 6 of Shifter for Brains

Opening the lid and blindly selecting, my fingers found the handle of some fancy rum brand with a stylized moon on the logo I didn’t recognize. God, the drink burned a line of fire down my throat as a strong paint thinner aroma filled the room.

After two more than healthy gulps, it wasn’t so bad.

“Oh shit.” Chase stared at me with his mouth dropped open. He downed the entire cup of water he’d gotten for me.

What was his problem? Whatever it was, I had the perfect solution.

I held the bottle out to him. “Care to join me?”

~

Lucas

Alcohol has a way of making things easier. At least for a little while. Too bad Chase kept watering down my drinks.

“I am not! Mine are as strong as yours.” His were definitely stronger.

I’d been somewhat relieved at first, given how quickly my limbs felt tingly after swigging from the bottle. But how was a guy supposed to relax and get drunk without getting drunk… that is, without drinking alcohol?

"Are you sure you aren’t a model?" I clapped a hand over my mouth too late.

I might be drunk after all.

Chase preened, striking a casual pose. “You think I’m hot enough for modeling?”

“N-no, of course not.” Chase on the cover of some swimsuit edition magazine wearing only a thong sprang to mind. “You’re too busy, uh, uh…”

"As a detective?"

"Right, too busy detecting things. So much to detect."

Chase made me a drink, a strange blend of rum, Pepsi, and olives, definitely the only ingredients available. He wouldn’t let me chug from the bottle again, murmuring an excuse about it being ‘impolite.’ Did a guy without a welcome mat or curtains really care about social niceties like always using drinking glasses? This led to a drinking game.

"Fabric softener,” I guessed.

Chase shook his head, tipping back another shot.

"Curtains."

"No.”

"A welcome mat."

“Jeez, do you have a list ready to go? Hold on, let me catch up and set up for another round."

The game was simple. I listed typical household objects. Chase drank if those items were missing from his apartment. I drank if he owned the necessary products all self-respecting adults with their own place should own.

And, of course, he did have shot glasses.

"Clean towels," I guessed during the next round.

“Ha, that’s yours!” He pointed to me and I drank from my glass.

"Air freshener."

Chase drank, grumbling some BS about how it wasn’t fair since those products irritated his nose.

"Napkins."