Page 48 of When I Should’ve Stayed (Red Bridge #2)
Clay
“Fill her up!” Bennett shouts and slams his hand down on the top of my bar. The rocks glass that used to be filled with Pappy’s bourbon is so dry, I wonder if he licked the fucking cup to get every last drop.
It’s a little after midnight, and besides a few regulars, he’s the only customer I’ve been serving drinks to for what feels like the whole night.
I tried to keep a mental count when he started up this drinking session, but after five glasses and when he started to just steal the bottle from behind the bar and pour his own refills, I couldn’t keep track.
The wheels have completely fallen off.
I know it’s a normal phase of grief and that, with our support, it’ll pass. But seeing my best friend like this—suffering so completely—and not being able to stop it is a vulnerable feeling I can’t explain.
I try to ignore him, try to pretend I’m busy with something at the cash register, but the drunk bastard starts shouting, “Anotha one! And anotha one! And anotha one!” Every fifth “Anotha one!” he adds, “DJ Khalid!”
It’d be funny if it weren’t so fucking sad.
When a few of my regulars start giving me annoyed looks because Bennett’s voice is drowning out the music, I head over to him on a sigh. I rest my elbows on the bar in front of him and lean forward to meet his eyes.
His face is a mask of bloodshot eyes and a lazy smile. He’s so numbed by the bourbon that he’s lucky if he knows his name at this point.
“How ya feelin’, Ben?”
“Like somebody kick-ed me in the dick and yank-ed my heart out of my chest. But that Poppy does reallll good with pain.” He smiles then and tries to pick up his glass, but he ends up shoving it off the bar instead. It hits the floor with a shattering bang. “Whoopsies. Anotha one! Ha! DJs Khalids!”
Four days have passed since we laid Summer to rest, and while this is the first night he’s shown up at my bar to use alcohol as a solution, I have a feeling it won’t be the last. Bennett has an unfortunate history of using shit like alcohol to numb pain, and with his sister Breezy gone back to New York this morning, there’s no one in his house to ride his ass about staying away from it anymore.
I understand she had shit to get back to, but it’d do Bennett and everyone else a whole hell of a lot of good if she’d just move here.
“I’ll pour you another one, but only under one condition.”
His head lolls to the side. “What?”
“Give me your keys.”
“What, you ’fraid I’m gonna get killed in a wreck or somethin’?” he questions on a laugh. Sober Ben would know that question’s not funny at all, but drunk Ben doesn’t give a shit. “Might be nice, dude. I already feel like dyin’ anyway.”
“Don’t be an asshole,” I tell him, my voice hardened by my own shitty baggage. For a fraction of a second, his face sobers.
Not only is his teasing bluntly inconsiderate to me—having nearly died in an accident myself—but it’s the kind of bullshit his daughter would be disgusted and disappointed to hear him saying.
Chastened, he wrestles his keys from his pocket and drops them on the bar with a clank.
I grab them, slip them into my pocket, and then, begrudgingly, follow through with my end of the deal.
Though, this time, I discreetly fill three-fourths of his cup with water and top it off with a little bourbon instead.
He chugs it immediately, pushing it back to me and falling right back into his original stand-up routine. “Anotha one!”
I let my head fall back, and I stare up at the ceiling, silently wondering how in the hell I’m going to get him the fuck out of here before he ends up needing an ambulance ride to the hospital for a stomach pump. The bar doesn’t close for another two hours, and I don’t think he’ll last that long.
I could shut down and take him myself—or I could call someone who might actually get through to the fucker.
Since I don’t have Norah’s number, I call the one I know.
I don’t know if she’ll answer. I don’t know if she’ll tell me to fuck off. But Norah deserves to know Ben’s in full self-destruct mode because she loves him, and Josie is the only way to make that happen.
I pour Ben another glass of water, adding an even smaller dash of bourbon, slide it over to him, and head toward the other end of the bar to make the call.
It rings three times before her voice is in my ear.
“Clay?”
I hate how much my heart races at the sound of my name sliding off her tongue. After all these years, she still says it best.
“Sorry to bother you, Josie, but I need your help. Bennett’s here, and he’s a bit of a mess.”
I want to tell her I love her and miss her and explain that I couldn’t file the divorce papers because I couldn’t fathom living a life without her as my wife, but I know now is not the time.
“Shit,” she mutters sleepily. I listen closely enough I hear the sheets rustle with her movement as she sits up.
“Yeah… I figured Norah would want to know, and I was wondering if you could maybe help him get home.”
“Give us, like, fifteen minutes, okay?” she says in a rush. “We’ll be there.”
“Thanks, Josie.”
“Of course, Clay. Of course.”
The call ends, and when I glance down toward the end of the bar, I see that Bennett has decided to take a nap. His head rests on his forearm, and his back moves up and down in smooth and steady waves with each breath.
Clearly, he needs to sleep, but it’d be a hell of a lot easier on everyone if he didn’t pass out until he got home. So, I head over toward him and try to wake him up.
“Yo, Ben,” I say, but he doesn’t budge. “Ben,” I say again, shoving his shoulders this time.
The only response I get is him snoring loudly into his arm.
Without any choice, I do the absolute most assholish thing anyone could do in this situation.
“Hey, everyone!” I shout to the other customers in the bar. “Cover your ears!”
They all do as they’re told, and I grab the bullhorn I keep stored underneath the bar to scare the fuck out of people who decide it’s a good idea to start fighting and hold it directly in front of Bennett’s face.
It only takes two blaring blows for him to jerk his head up in surprise.
“What the fuck?” he shouts, and I smile toward him.
“Mornin’, sweetheart. Have a nice nap?”
He blinks several times, his mind swirling with too much alcohol to comprehend anything around him. Thankfully, he doesn’t put his head back down. Doesn’t do anything but shove his empty glass toward me, a sloppy request for another drink.
I shrug and do as requested, but this time, I don’t even add the bourbon. He chugs the glass of water down, too drunk to realize my trick, and shoves the glass toward me again.
We complete that cycle three more times before Josie walks through the door, Norah following right behind her. Concern etches the lines of both of their faces as they quickly close the distance between us.
Norah places a gentle hand on my buddy’s back, her mouth turning down in a deep frown. “Bennett?”
He moves his head toward her, but he’s too blitzed to have any clue who is talking to him.
“God, he’s a mess,” Josie says, meeting my eyes. “How much has he had?”
“Well, he doesn’t know I’ve only been serving him water for the past ten or so drinks, so I’d say a lot.
” I round the bar to meet them on the other side.
“Tried to keep count, but the bastard stole the bottle of bourbon from behind the bar and started giving himself his own refills before I realized what happened. Pretty sure he managed half the bottle.”
Norah sighs. Josie’s eyes go wide.
“Anotha one!” Bennett slurs.
Norah places a gentle hand on Bennett’s face, her eyes searching his with a sadness I can feel to my own bones. “Bennett? I’m here, okay? I’m right here.” Her voice shakes with pain. She loves this man, it’s written all over her face, and yet, he’s not letting her be there for him.
Ever since that day in the police station, right before Summer passed away, he’s been avoiding her completely. It’s breaking her heart.
“Hey, Norah,” Josie says softly. “How about we try to get him in the car, okay?”
Norah nods, her lip trembling.
Josie meets my eyes as I help Bennett off the barstool and wrap his limp arm around my shoulder, lifting him to his feet. He’s heavy and off-balance, and as I carry him toward the door, his feet are basically dragging on the floor.
Josie does her best to keep Norah calm while still helping me get Ben to the car by holding open the doors, and we manage to get him in the back seat without too much of a fight. Josie is gentle as she adjusts his legs so they’re not smashed against the door, encouraging Norah at the same time.
I feel a pang of longing in my chest.
Josie has always been a caretaker. Always calm and reassuring and supportive. Always the best woman I’ve ever known.
Once Norah is supporting Bennett in the back seat, Josie hops in the driver’s seat and offers a little wave goodbye in my direction. Just like always, it hurts like a son of a bitch to watch her drive away.