“Lizzy said Tommy and Gibson are passed out in front of the TV. So if there’s anything you want to get done, I can easily stay for another hour or two.”
“Thank you.” I smiled. “But David should be home soon. We have plans for trying to catch up with the laundry and maybe cook something for dinner. Though I daresay we’ll wind up getting pizza delivered again. Then maybe watch a movie, which we will probably both fall asleep in front of. I tell you, the glamorous rock ’n’ roll lifestyle never ends.”
Anne laughed.
And suddenly the front door opened and loud yelling filled the condo. Or maybe it was yodeling. It was meant to be some type of singing, I think. The death throes of an extraordinarily hot rock star otherwise known as my husband. He had one arm thrown over Mal’s shoulders and the other around Jimmy’s. Because he was just that inebriated, apparently. Holy shit. Dark hair hung around his face, and his eyes were tinged red. “Ev.”
“Hey,” I said, in a not so happy tone of voice.
Jimmy gave me a cautious smile. “They were wetting the baby’s head.”
“You did what to my child’s head?”
“It’s a British thing where you celebrate the new arrival with a couple of drinks.” Which explained why Jimmy was not under the influence, since he was a recovering alcoholic.
Mal, on the other hand, seemed less than sober. Though he was always sort of high on life, so it could be hard to tell. “It’s tradition. We had to!”
Anne closed her eyes tight for a moment. With the baby on her shoulder, she gently patted his back. “Did you happen to notice the part where none of us are in fact British?”
“Bollocks and blimey. What rubbish,” said Mal in a horrible attempt at a posh English accent. “Why, I’m as British as…something very British.”
“Is that so?”
“Bangers and mash,” yelled the blond idiot.
Which scared my son so badly he burst into tears. Give me strength.
“It’s okay,” I said as Anne passed him to me. “Here we go, sweetie. Everything’s fine. Ignore the drunken idiots.”
Mal winced. “Sorry, little dude.”
“So you had a party, huh?” I asked.
David tried to focus on me, but I’m not sure he was entirely successful given all the blinking involved. “Just a little one.”
“You can’t even stand on your own, babe.”
“Um…” And the scent of scotch was so strong. His breath was pure fumes, just waiting for a flame. What a mess.
Jimmy’s gaze was full of apology. As if it were his fault his brother was in this condition. Grownups made their own choices.
“Put him on the couch.” I stepped out of the way. “Thank you.”
A week ago, it would have been no big deal. Of course, a week ago, it would have been unlikely to happen. The band sometimes had a few drinks together. There was a fair argument to be made that partying was part of the music industry. Celebrating achievements with a bottle of champagne. Shooting tequila before taking to the stage. It happened, but no one got hammered. Not like this. We were all mature responsible adults. Mostly. Okay. So if he did make a big night of it, he’d do it when we had nothing else going on. When a hangover didn’t matter.
“I’ll take this one home.” Anne grabbed Mal’s hand and tugged him toward the door with no small amount of determination. “See you later, Ev.”
“Bye. And thanks again.”
She just nodded.
“But Davie needs me,” said Mal.
“Read the room, Malcolm,” grouched his wife. “The party is over.”
“Oh, yeah. This room does not feel happy. Maybe it needs some fucking Feng Shui or something. What do you–”
And the door shut behind them. Thank God. One disaster (or drunk rock star) at a time was more than enough.
Jimmy frowned. “Ben bought a couple of bottles of some fancy scotch to celebrate the birth. It was only supposed to be a couple of drinks, but it got a bit out of hand.”
“Oh,” I said.
“I don’t feel so good,” mumbled David on the couch. His face had indeed gone pale.
“Bucket?” asked Jimmy.
“Grab a plastic container or a big bowl from the kitchen pantry.” I pointed the way.
Jimmy ran.
The baby kept fussing because he could smell his food source close by and was hungry. So I set up in my usual lounge chair on the other side of the room. Thank goodness for wrap tops making breastfeeding more accessible. While my son started suckling, I watched my husband turn an alarming shade of green.
Jimmy shoved the big metal bowl at David just in time for him to hurl. Oy vey.
I didn’t want to guess how much alcohol it would take to make him this sick. Or how fast he must have downed it. I’d only been asleep for a couple of hours. The band meeting at Ben’s house must not have been that long.