The Convenient Wife

If I wanted to be a real asshole, I’d say fuck it all and walk away. I’d let my father take his company and gift it to the first name he draws from a hat. But I want this, I’ve wanted this my whole life.

And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let whatever the hell it is I’m feeling screw it all up. I didn’t come this far to lose it all. I didn’t work this hard to let him gift it to some jackass who’s never been around liquor like this.

Pouring two glasses of whiskey, I attempt to hand Yale a shot. He tries to decline the glass, but I don’t let him. “Take it,” I say, veering my stare. “Or you might not have a job when we get back from Hawaii.”

“You’d fire me for not drinking this?”

“No, I’d fire you for not following orders. This isn’t a democracy, Yale, I make the rules here. I’m telling you to drink the shot. We have a long weekend ahead of us, I’m not drinking alone, so bottoms up.” Forcing it into his hand, I lift mine towards the ceiling. The alcohol burns the back of my throat as it goes down quickly.

I feel lost, for the first time in my life, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I always thought I’d keep going like I was. In my head, I’d be a successful single man, with disposable money, and a name to carry it.

Now I feel different. I want something else, something I’m not supposed to have. Something I thought didn’t exist. Something that has an expiration date.

And that date is coming, it is right here, only a few hours away.

My father is going to meet my wife for the first time and hate her. I don’t want him to hate her, and a part of me also wants to say fuck the distillery. Because this is just a building with four walls and a roof. It isn’t life, it isn’t what I should be living for.

“Are you alright, Bolt?” Yale’s face tightens up as he rocks his jaw side to side from the alcohol. “You don’t seem like yourself.” Coughing lightly, he runs his mouth across his sleeve.

“I’m fine, I just want this weekend to be over. The sooner, the better. One more, let’s do one more.” Pouring two more shots, I hold mine high and salute the air. “To breaking the rules.”

Letting out a heavy breath, I close my eyes and all I can see is Starla.

I have one goal for this weekend. One.

I just have to keep my head screwed on straight.

“Fuck it, let’s finish the bottle.”

* * *

The alarm buzzes, rousing me awake. My brain feels like it’s trying to dig through my skull. The buzzing slices through my head like a serrated blade, taking the headache to a new level.

Everything hurts. My eyes are throbbing, my stomach is crampy, my muscles are tense and sore. I’m pretty sure I threw up at one point last night, but I’ll have to check with Yale to be sure. My memory is a little foggy, and not all of last night’s events are clear.

Groaning, I roll over and slap snooze on the alarm. Letting my arm fall off the bed, I lay with my face half off the mattress. I don’t have the energy to move, and I don’t care to.

“Bolt, it’s time to get up, our flight is in a few hours.” Starla’s voice slips easily into my ear as her fingers brush through my hair. “Come on, we don’t want to miss the plane.”

“Five more minutes.” Burying my head under the pillow, I press the edges down around my ears.

Yanking the blankets off me, she climbs onto my back and starts to rub my shoulders. “How much did you drink last night?” she asks, pushing the pads of her thumbs into my shoulder blades. “It had to be a lot.”

“Why’s that?” Uncovering my face, I moan as she massages deep into the muscle. “Mm, that feels good.”

“Because I’ve drank with you before, we actually drank quite a bit, and you didn’t get this wasted. I didn’t even know you could get that drunk. I thought it would take a horse tranquilizer to knock your ass out.”

“Blame Yale, he kept pouring them.”

I lie. I don’t want to talk about the conversation I had with Yale, or what forced me to drink an entire bottle of seventy proof bourbon.

Yes, Starla knows everything about us was fake. But somewhere inside, I’m having difficulty separating what’s real and what isn’t.

Everything is a giant pool swirling around inside me. I’m trying like hell to pick the poison apart, but the concoction is too much to wade through.

The only thing that I know for certain about any of this is the fact that I’m going to lose everything if I don’t do what my father wants.