should too. I’m going to need your help with that.”
“Who are ya’…” he started then caught himself. “Oh, yeah, never mind.”
“Doesn’t matter. I really doubt they’re going to listen,” I replied then motioned with my hand. “Come on…”
Ben followed along as I trudged through the dining room and into the kitchen. If I was going to keep from turning into a blithering idiot, I needed more aspirin and a giant cup of coffee to wash them down. I knew I could find both of them there.
A quick glance at the time on the microwave reminded me I had yet to give any thought to what I was going to fix for the evening meal. I was already late with getting it started, considering that Felicity would probably be home at any moment, so I didn’t have many options unless we wanted to eat later than usual.
“I need to do something about dinner,” I told Ben absently. “Are you staying?”
“Depends. What’re ya’ havin’?”
“I don’t know yet. But the way my head feels, I’m suddenly seeing carry-out high on the list of possibilities.” I pointed to the stack of menus held to the side of the refrigerator with a large magnet. “Want to see if anything there strikes you? I’m buying.”
“Ta’ be honest, I appreciate the offer, but I can’t stay,” he returned. “I actually got plans with Constance.”
“Uh-huh,” I grunted. “You just don’t want to be here when Felicity gets home.”
“Well, normally I’d say you’re right, but the way you look and after what ya’ told me, I ain’t leavin’ ya’ alone. So I’ll be here until she gets in.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Nope. Ain’t arguin’.”
“Okay, fine. If you’re just going to stand around then make yourself useful,” I said as I reached into the pantry and grabbed a bag of coffee beans. I turned and tossed them to him then pointed. “The grinder is in the cabinet above the coffeemaker.”
“How much?” he asked, waving the bag.
“Better make it extra strong,” I replied.
I was already turning my back to him as I embarked on a personal mission. The ever-so-brief encounter with the pantry had managed to spark an idea. I didn’t know that it was necessarily a good one, but I hurt bad enough that my tortured brain was blindly following along anyway. I swung the door wider, tugged on the swing-out rack, and then started fumbling around the liquor shelf in the far back.
“I don’t use all this fancy ass shit like you, Kemosabe. How much do ya’ put in for extra strong?”
“Just fill the grinder up to the rim,” I called over my shoulder. “Then put the cap on and hold the button down for ten or fifteen seconds until it looks like what you would normally get out of a can. Sound doable?”
“Y’okay. Full, cap, button, can. Got it.”
By the time Ben set about the task, I already had my head partially buried in the opening of the deep cabinet, inspecting bottles as I shuffled them around in the dark interior. Even so, behind me I could hear an initial hesitant clinking, eventually followed by an all out dull rattle as he poured the roasted beans into the device. I continued working on the task at hand, and when I finally hit upon what I was after, I wrapped my hand around the neck of the bottle and pulled it out. It was at just about that same moment when I was closing up the pantry that my friend finished replacing the cap and leaned on the grind switch.
The screaming whirr of the blades was joined by the sharp clatter of the java beans being violently crushed. The blended clamor instantly bit into my ears and ricocheted around the inside of my skull. Unfortunately, as the coffee was ground, the blades began to move faster, and as they did, their pitch increased. In direct proportion, so did my agony. When he finally released the button, even though I could barely see straight, the relief of the relative silence was almost overwhelming.
I let out a heavy sigh then hooked around the island as he emptied the fresh grind into the filter basket and swung it shut. While he was filling the reservoir on the coffeemaker with water, I was in the process of rummaging through a nearby cabinet for a tumbler. Finding one in short order, I pulled it out then uncorked the bottle of bourbon I currently had death-gripped in my other hand. After pouring roughly the equivalent of a shot and giving it a quick glance, I turned the bottle up once again and didn’t stop until I’d counted to five.
I set the still open bottle to the side and glanced over at Ben while pointing past him at a basket on the counter. “Do me a favor. Could you hand me that bottle of aspirin?”
He pulled the bottle out and gave it to me. I popped the cap and shook five or so into my palm while he watched.
“Think maybe you oughta take it easy with those?” he asked.
I tossed them into my mouth without answering and twisted the cap back onto the bottle. Settling it on the counter, I picked up the tumbler of bourbon.
“You ain’t really gonna wash those down with booze, are ya’?”
I didn’t bother to answer that question either. I simply placed the glass against my lips then tilted my head back. When the tumbler touched the surface of the counter again, it was drained.
“You’re fuckin’ nuts,” my friend grunted.
“Want one?” I asked.
He glanced at his watch. “Thanks, but I’ll wait for the coffee. I still got some time yet before I hafta go.”
I could already feel the first twinge of the alcohol rushing into my system. It seemed a bit quick for that to be happening already, but by the same token I also knew I was downing it on an empty stomach. At any rate, I wasn’t worried. In fact, I began to wonder if maybe bourbon was a better catalyst for the aspirin than java.
I turned the bottle up and began filling my glass once again.
“You sure you wanna do that?” Ben asked.
I ignored him again and kept pouring. When it was at about the same level as before, I lifted the tumbler, but this time a large hand slipped in and clamped onto my wrist. I shot an annoyed glance at my friend but didn’t fight him.
“I don’t know what you’re worried about,” I said. “I’m not the one planning on driving anywhere.”
“Yeah, maybe so, but have you asked your liver how it feels about what you’re doin’ to it?”
I half chuckled. “So when did you become the health police?”
He shook his head. “I keep tellin’ ya’ that I’m just bein’ concerned about ya’, Row. If what I just saw is any indication, you’re eatin’ aspirin like breath mints, and ya’ know damn well you ended up poisoned and in the hospital last time ya’ did that. An’ if that ain’t enough, I haven’t seen ya’ drink like this in forever… Not since Eldon Porter was on the loose at the very least.”
“That’s because I’m pretty sure I haven’t hurt this bad since then. Hell, to be honest I’m pretty sure I’ve never hurt this bad at all.”
“Well ain’t there somethin’ else you can do ta’ help with that? Some kinda hocus-pocus or somethin’?”
“That’s what I was doing until you grabbed my arm.”
“Yeah, right. I meant Witch stuff… you know…”
“I’ve been down that road already…” I shrugged. “I guess I could go out on a limb and try Voodoo.”
“Okay. So how do ya’ do that? There some way I can help?”
“Sure. You can put the bourbon away and get me the rum instead.”
“Dammit, Row, get serious. You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do, but I’ve exhausted all those other options, Ben.”
“Well crawlin’ into a bottle ain’t gonna help.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’ve said yourself that booze doesn’t fix it.”
“Yeah, right. When did I say that?”
Before he could answer, a higher pitched and softly accented voice interrupted. “Several times that I can remember, then.”
There was certainly no mistaking to whom the Celtic lilt belonged. I looked past my friend as he was turning toward the source himself and found Felicity standing in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. Obviously she’d been there long enough to hear at least the most recent exchange in our conversation. Her eyes were fixed on me, and she definitely didn’t look happy.
