But before beddy-bye, Brann said “First things first.” He began applying large, clean bandages.
“So? Who’s going to be my babysitter tonight?”
Weylyn stepped forward, as though to claim the prize, but Orin stepped up at the same time, and they banged together, shoulder to shoulder. There was a very low growl, though I couldn’t tell which wolfie-boy was grumbling.
“I will,” Orin declared. “I can’t have her... being like this.”
“Thanks, big guy.” In my haze, I was having trouble parsing Orin’s motives, but honestly, I didn’t quite care at this point. I was all bandaged, clean, still underdressed for any situation except a shower, and not to mention, three sheets to shitfaced. Orin glanced at the other three sets of eyeballs, all getting their fill of the view while it lasted. Orin pulled off the clean t-shirt he was wearing, and handed it to me. Pulling the shirt over my head, I realized that it looked stupidly huge on me, I might as well be wearing a trash bag. I shrugged, and turned to Orin, as I carefully creaked off the table to stand up, I asked “Do you like chicken?”
“Huh?”
“Take a wing,” I giggled, as I cocked my elbow. After a short pause for the tumblers to click, he got the idea, and took my arm in his.
“Take it slow,” Weylyn said, as Orin escorted me off to my room. All the other men made a chivalrous show of stepping aside for us, and I let the big man take me with him, no objections.
As we approached the stairs, the front door burst open. We didn’t even have time to get startled, before a thoroughly inebriated Katie staggered through the door, and almost plowed into us. Once inside, Katie did a reverse kick, slamming the door shut behind her. She announced her presence with a drawn-out sing-song “Good morning!” and raucous laughter. She peeled her jacket off and tossed it toward a chair, and missed.
“Hi Katie.” I said.
“Hey friend,” she slurred out. She squinted to attempt eye focus, and tried to pull off her best attempt to act sober.
“Are you drunk?” I could still feel my own buzz, although I didn’t hold a candle to Katie for being utterly buckled. But I didn’t care if she was drunk. She was here. She was safe. She had escaped the madness of this night.
“Are you...?” Katie squinted again, looking at my bandages. “What’s the haps? You look like you fell down the stairs while you were juggling knives.”
Then, I caught it. That telltale twinkle in Katie’s eye. As I started to smile my best knowing smile, Katie tried to look innocent. For three seconds. Then she had to grin right back at me.
“So?” I asked. (I had to ask, it’s a BFF union rule) “Who’d you fuck?”
Her brow wrinkled for just a second as she wound back the tape. Aaah, she remembers. Looking pleased and silly, she said “Conner.”
“The bartender?”
“It so happens we have a lot in common.”
“What? Did you sell him the recipe for your world-famous killer cocktail?”
“It so happens Conner is very... glamorous.”
“Glamorous?” Then I remembered. Glamour. The kind of glamour that fairies have. “Ooooh,” I said, “Good choice.”
“But he’s very... I guess you’d say, in the closet?”
“Big secret, huh?”
“My lips are sealed,” she said, closing her mouth and pantomiming the turning of a key. A ridiculous display.
“She’s absolutely pissed,” Orin said, and laughed.
Katie waved off Orin as she looked around the foyer, disoriented.
“Do you need help? You look lost.”
“I got this,” she said in the most serious I’m not a bit drunk tone I’ve ever heard her try on. She stumbled away, into the living room. The next thing I heard was china breaking, followed by Katie laughing.
I turned to Orin. “She’s fine, let’s go.” Orin led, practically dragging me as I stumbled up the stairs. I giggled as Katie called out a long “Bye!” that dimmed as I got closer to my room.
I was devoid of expectations right now, but hopefully, there’d be something nice at the end of this booze rainbow...
Just Weylyn
- Weylyn -
I pulled out a clean rag from my pocket and wiped the sweat off my brow. I’d been monkeying with my old muscle car all morning, trying to fix the problem with the engine. Well, more like trying to find the fucking problem, in fact. I flopped down in a ragged old chair, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. I leaned back (in spite of the torn, oil-stained fabric) as I lit up, staring out the open garage door, into the driveway. Just taking in the view of Cóis Dara and the ancient oak in front of the house. I rarely smoke, but when I get stressed out, I need to keep busy, so puff puff I went.
The problem with my old ban was that it wouldn’t start. Everything appeared to be in order, yet the damn crock just wouldn’t turn over. It was extremely irksome, but at least it gave me something to occupy my mind, after the prior evening’s events. Unfortunately, I was still so distracted, I couldn’t even pinpoint the problem. I stared at the car, blowing smoke rings, when the sound of familiar heavy footsteps caught my attention. I chose not to acknowledge the oncoming presence until it acknowledged me.
“Weylyn?” Orin’s voice reverberated through the garage. “You’ve been quiet.”
I stayed quiet. I took a puff and blew out another perfect smoke ring. Orin sighed and shook his head. “I’m willing to wait until you finish off that duck’s arse.” Puff. Smoke ring. What good’s a brother if you can’t fuck with him?
Orin’s face was getting red. “If you’re a man, you’ll use your words.”
Puff. Smoke ring. “I’m a wolf, not a man,” I grumbled, flicking my cigarette, watching the ash fall onto Orin’s boot.
“Ha ha, very funny.” Orin came around to the side of the car. “Now really, tell me why you, Mr. Social Butterfly, suddenly have
