wouldn’t have dragged my ass all the way out here on a weekday for cheer.”
“Is that important?” Ryker says, giving him a look.
“I’m here to tell him to get his act together and stop fucking up at the office.” Griffin goes to the drink cabinet, pours a bourbon, passes it to Ryker and starts to work on a gin and tonic for himself. “His personal life is his own business. If he wants to be miserable during non-work hours, that’s his right as an American. It’s in the Constitution.”
“Yeah, but—” Ryker begins.
“Look,” I say wearily when this shows every sign of continuing indefinitely. “I don’t care what you’re calling it. I don’t need it. I’m fine. It’s all under control. Thanks for stopping by. See you back in the city.”
“You’re not fine. You look like shit,” Ryker says as they sit on either side of me.
“Okay, well, I’m fine with looking like shit,” I say, then down the rest of my dirty martini and start to get up for a refill.
Without a word, Griffin snatches my glass and shoves me back down. “Let’s not,” he says. “You don’t need anything else. I’m already getting a contact high from the fumes wafting off you. Let’s just get this whole awkward conversation over with so we can move on with our lives.”
I know, from painful experience, that these two clowns can be as stubborn as a Taurus mule, especially when they put their heads together about something. Plus, I can tell by the grim determination on Griffin’s face that a scuffle, if not an outright brawl, is in my immediate future if my ass doesn’t remain in contact with the sofa cushion for the duration. Since I’m in the middle of a pleasant buzz and don’t have the energy required to win this round if it comes to blows, I decide to ride it out. The sooner they say their piece, the sooner they’ll leave me in peace. I hope.
“Fine,” I say, resting my elbows on my knees and bracing myself. “Let’s hear it.”
Griffin opens his mouth—
“I’ll handle this,” Ryker says quickly, shooting him a warning look. “The last thing we need is for you to make this worse with your abrasive personality.”
“Suit yourself, Ry,” Griffin says, then makes a show of getting comfortable by leaning back, crossing his legs and taking a leisurely sip of his drink. “Just don’t fuck it up.”
“You’ve got to get Carly back,” Ryker tells me, shooting Griffin a final sidelong glare. “You can’t go down in flames like this.”
“Sure I can,” I say, incredulous. Who among us can be surprised that I’ve screwed things up with Carly? I don’t exactly have a long history of successful relationships under my belt. “Have we met?”
“We’re trying to help you not be your own worst enemy,” Ryker says, making zero effort to hide his exasperation. “Stop being such a hardass all the time.”
Griffin frowns. “I thought I was the hardass in the family.”
“You’re the asshole,” Ryker tells him. “There’s a difference.”
“True,” Griffin says, his expression clearing.
“Anyway, Damon, what’s the issue?” Ryker says. “We’re here. Maybe you need to bounce some ideas off us.”
He waits patiently.
Griffin, meanwhile, pulls out his phone with his free hand and scrolls through emails.
I scowl. This is what my life has come to. It’s my own fault for getting myself into the pathetic position of receiving romantic advice from Bill and Ted here. Having not learned my lesson the last time I confided in one of these two morons, I mentioned the other day, in passing, that Carly and I had hit a rough patch. Now this.
Although, come to think of it, they’re both happy in their new relationships. To my knowledge, neither one of them is spending his long and lonely nights alone with only his blue balls to keep him company. Maybe, if I confide a bit more about my situation, one or the other of them might stumble onto an encouraging word of wisdom. It’s worth a shot. I can hardly be worse off than I am now.
I clear my throat.
“Carly, ah, loves me. She says she’s in love with me.”
“So, naturally, you’ve lost the will to live and look like shit,” Griffin says, still scrolling.
That’s why he’s the family asshole.
In a sign of how close my emotions are to the surface these days, that’s all it takes for me to lose my shit. I surge to my feet and bend down to get in his face.
“You want a go at me?”