The Hardest Part of Today is a Hangover.

“What would you like, sir?” I mumbled to one of the regulars I had noticed from coming in here almost every day with Christian—who I was ignoring—and smiled at him.

He smiled a toothless smile back. “Jus gimme’ a beer,” he mumbled through his shriveled lips, wiping peanut crumbs off of the counter.

I nodded. “Right away, sir.”

[--]

I stumbled through the doors at the end of my shift—which was around four o’clock today—and decided to stroll passed the record store on my way to buy some cigs to quench my new addiction and burn up my first tip of the job.

Really, I wasn’t paying attention where I was walking. I didn’t even know I was humming the tune to Janis Joplin’s To Love Somebody. But somewhere in-between me stepping into the road in front of the bar and colliding with something I had been—and by god if I hadn’t walked right into the record store door.

You would’ve thought I would be used to this by now, but I wasn’t. I hit the ground just as hard, cringed just as much, and sighed even more.

“Holy shit!” a girl shouted.

I could feel her hand on my shoulder—I didn’t know her. I didn’t recognize her voice. I thought they were going to give Trisha the job, but apparently not. Apparently I’ve been replaced. Ridiculous.

“Are you okay?” she stuttered out. “I didn’t give you a concussion or anything, did I? Oh, man, Erin’s going to kill me.”

I sat up, shaking my head, grasping at my temple. “No, no. I’m okay. She won’t kill you—I promise. You might even get a raise for this one,” I mumbled, shaking my vision back into place.

“H-Huh? You know Erin?” She fumbled with her words, nervous.

I nodded. “Yeah, I do.” I stood up slowly, brushing off my ass and catching my breath. “See you around,” I mumbled, continuing to walk in the direction I was heading in. Obviously walking passed that place had been a bad fucking idea.

[-Oli-]

I had decided to stop by and give Erin some company when my phone started ringing in my pocket. I turned the key in the ignition of my car, waited for it to start up, then pulled it out casually.

I wasn’t in the mood to talk on the phone.

“‘Sup?” I mumbled uninterestedly.

“Oli! Can you come in here, please? I have to go see my father in the hospital and Christie’s the only one here.” Erin spoke quickly into the phone, a certain edge to her voice.

She wasn’t very close with her father, but I knew she loved him—he was her father, afterall. They had never wronged each other; they just didn’t get each other. There was absolutely nothing abnormal or wrong about that.

I shrugged even though she couldn’t see me. “Sure. I was actually on my way.”

“Oh, thank god, Oli. You’re a lifesaver!”

“I know, I know,” I laughed, quickly backing out of the parking spot I was in. “You going to be there when I get there, love?”

“No. I have to go now—he got in a car wreck on the way to go fishing with some of his friends on the coast. You know how he is. But the hospital wasn’t able to tell me his condition, so I don’t know if I should get there now or wait.”

“Go just in case, love. Chrissie and I can take care of everything,” I mumbled, stopping at a red light.

“Christie,” she laughed.

“Oh,” I laughed, “Whatever.”

“Okay. Are you sure you can handle the store while I’m gone?”

“Positive, Erin. Don’t stress yourself out. It’s not good for the baby,” I said before I even realized I said it.

Since when had I gotten so gushy?

She just laughed at me. “Okay, love. I’ll try to calm down. Thanks…again.”

“No problem, now go!” I laughed, hanging up quickly and stuffing my phone into my pocket as I turned onto fifty-seventh street. I was a good ten minutes from the store, so she’d definitely be gone when I got there and I’d have to spend all of my time with this…Chrissie chick or whatever her name is. Joy.

If she’s a BMTH fan I’m screwed.

[--]

I walked into the store, half expecting a crazy fan girl to cover my face with a chloroform-laced piece of paper towel and drag me into the back room for the next three days. I was in my attack stance when she walked through the door from the back room.

She stopped dead in her tracks. “Oli?”

“Christie! Oh, shit, man! What the hell are you doing here?” I shouted, running over to her and giving her the infamous chest bump we had done for years. It had become our way of greeting one another.

“I’m asking myself the same question,” she laughed. “What are you doing here?”

“Eh, Erin and Adam are some of my best mates…and my girlfriend-ish-person lives here, so I decided Portland after tour—why not?” I laughed.

Her eyebrow rose. “Girlfriend-ish-person?”
“Yeah…we’re having some issues right now,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. I didn’t really want to talk about it, so I shook it off and straightened out. “You talk to my brother lately?”

“Nope,” she said quickly, “Not a bit.”

“Well, why not? I know you guys a little thing going on there for a while. What happened to that?” I joked, laughing.

I stuck my tongue out at him. “You know I had that thing going on with Alex at Warped. Tom and I just…fooled around a bit,” she mumbled, her cheeks turning a bright shade of red.

I rolled my eyes. “I know, I know. I was just kidding. But, you know,” I started, thinking my words closely, “Isn’t that Gaskarth guy a little girly for your taste?”

She shot me a look telling me that I was treading in dangerous waters, though I already knew that the second I said it, then cleared her throat. “No, Oli,” she said, an annoyed tick in her face, “He’s quite a man.”

“Touché,” I laughed, plopping down in the chair behind the counter, ready for a moderately slow day.

[--]

We told each other about our troubles that we hadn’t been able to catch up on during tour—I told her about Anna and she told me about Alex, though she had this flame back at home she wasn’t too sure about. We had nearly spilled our hearts out to each other when she looked at the clock and sighed.

“I need to get the sign. I’ll be right back,” she mumbled, walking out the door.

I just looked back down to the paper I had been doodling on all day. Only eight people had come in today, so I was bored out of my mind. My head snapped back up when I heard Christie yell, “Holy shit!”

I stood quickly, trying to see over the counter, and peered through the glass and Christie leaning over someone sprawled out on the pavement. I noticed the jeans—my jeans—and cocked my head to the side, instantly sitting back down.

How the hell did Anna get my jeans? I thought to myself, completely baffled.

As I pondered the thought Christie came back into the store holding the sign…and her face. “You can’t kill me,” she said slowly—cautiously.

“What?”

“I think I just hit your girlfriend-ish-person in the face, dude,” she muttered, dropping the sign next to my leg behind the counter.

“Oh,” I laughed, “You did.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No,” I laughed, “I’m kind of hoping it knocked some sense into her, though.” I sighed, finishing my doodle and deciding I wanted to get it as a tattoo, stuffing it into my pocket, then turning to Christie. “You want to come back to the hotel? The guys would love to see you.”

“Sure!” she laughed, already forgetting about knocking Anna’s head off her shoulders. “I need to close first, though.”

“Hop on it,” I laughed, “I’m not going to wait forever.”

“Ha-ha. You’re hilarious,” she muttered, rolling her eyes and disappeared into the back rom.