tank-top clad, and bombed out of his mind. I’d never seen him so drunk, and Ken looked more than a little amused. In fact, he actually seemed to be enjoying himself. Devon, the older brother, followed, plopping himself on the couch where he alternated between contributing his two cents to Ethan’s stories and trying to get random girls on Tinder to Snapchat him pictures of their tits.
Bringing up the rear was Ken’s best friend, Allen, and his wife, Amy.
Allen and Amy have two kids, but you’d never know it based on the way they party. Just a few weeks ago, they went to an adults-only (nudist) resort in Jamaica and had a weeklong orgy. I know this because Amy was texting me a blow-by-blow (No pun intended!) of the action the entire time.
Life isn’t fair, Journal.
While they were spreading their ass cheeks for strangers on a nude beach, I was busy scrubbing skid marks out of my son’s Batman underwear. I hope whoever wound up blowing them had thrush and beard crabs.
Listening to Ethan and Devon rattling off LA stories while acting out all the characters was like watching a live episode of Drunk History. Ethan was bragging about how he’d saved Devon from getting a hand job from a transgender porn star named Tammy Tugwell at the Sundance Film Festival. Devon was telling us about how he’d seen one of the vampires from True Blood fucking a girl doggie-style on their couch in the aftermath of their epic Oscar party. It was beautiful.
But as entertaining as the Alexanders’ little pissing contest was, something even more interesting was happening on the far side of the room. Ken was smiling. As a matter of fact, he might have even been chuckling softly, like the coo of a dove.
Seeing Ken experience something resembling a good time while listening to the Lifestyles of the Single and Childless simply added fuel to the fire of my brilliant, sinister Gargamelian idea. All I needed to do was figure out a way to get the Alexander brothers and Ken into a tattoo parlor at the same time and let the gentle shove of peer pressure take care of the rest. I could do this. I had the universe and four hundred eighty-seven cubic liters of flavored liqueurs on my side.
I glanced at my bare wrist. “Damn, Ethan. Your birthday’s almost over, boo. Is there anything else you want to do before midnight? Like go to Waffle House or get a tattoo?”
Please say tattoo. Please say tattoo. Please—
“Oh, shit!” Ethan slurred as panic forced his eyelids all the way open. “I was totally gonna get a tattoo today!”
Fuck yeah! High five, Deepak!
Allen and Amy hopped off the couch and started screaming and doing herkies like Satan’s cheerleaders.
Allen grabbed Ethan by the shoulders and started shaking him violently while Amy screamed in his face, “Shit yes, E! Get in the car right now! We’re paying!”
I glanced at Devon for any signs of protest, but he was still glued to his phone, willing his Snapchat app to ping.
With the swingers on board and big brother Alexander preoccupied with the promise of underage boobies, all I had to do now was convince Ken to go with them and pray that the momentum and camaraderie of a fun night out would be enough to get him to join his good buddy Ethan in a little tat session.
Unfortunately, Ken and his fucking morals didn’t share our zest for bonding and making lifelong memories. Instead, he actually insinuated that it was not only not a great idea to take our inebriated friend to get a tattoo, but that it was actually “wrong” because he was “blackout drunk” and would probably “regret it in the morning.”
Gah! Thanks a lot, Dad!
Ken might have been sober and rational, but I was full of Pucker’s Sour Apple, hellfire, and tarnation, and I wasn’t going down without a fight. Through my liqueur-induced fog, I hoped that maybe, just maybe, if I could prove to Ken that the tattoo Ethan wanted was badass or at least tastefully unassuming, I could get Ken to cave.
“Don’t listen to him, honey. Ken just hates fun, that’s all. It’s your thirtieth birthday! If you want a tattoo, you should let Allen and Amy buy you a tattoo! Do you know what you want?”
Please be something cool. Please be something cool…
Ethan wobbled a little on his feet while he oriented himself to the direction of my voice.
I’m pretty sure he couldn’t actually see me