Just Hate Me and We'll End It Here

Alex

I hum cheerfully as I head out. My fingers run lightly against the knife, wondering about this crazy Bailey. I glance through the cars, and faintly recall last night...

Ah, dang it. We'd walked- meaning I had to walk back. I frown slightly and rub my head, glad I can actually hold my liquor pretty well. Never as good as Zack, of course. But pretty good all the same.

Speaking of which.... I fumble through my jeans, looking for my phone. Fumbling with my wallet, I grab my phone and speed dial to Jack. "Hey, man," I call cheerfully as he gives a hyper welcome.

"Dude! Did you know that I can balance three beer bottles on my head?!"

"Uh.... no. You can?"

"Yes! Isn't that friggin' awesome? Hey, wait, no.... four!" He whistles excitedly, then I hear something break.... glass breaking. "Aw, man...." He whines and it's obvious all four beer bottles are now smashed on the ground. I smirk. That sucker's going to have to clean it aaaaaallllll up.

"Uh.... man?"

"Yeah, dude?" I ask, wanting to get out my information.

"Welll..... now you have four broken beer bottles to pick up!" He offers brightly.

"No! Not my house," I groan. "Jack, I told you to stop breaking into my house!"

"You were with me!" He protests.

"No, I wasn't," I correct him.

Silence.

"Jack?"

"Whatever you say, I keep to the fact that I am not gay!" He shrieks loudly so I have to hold it away from my ear, wincing.

Then I notice an old lady giving me a crazy look. I chuckle sheepishly. "Brothers, what can you do?"

"Sell them," she snaps. "On the black market." And she scuttles off.

Okay, now that was weird.

I watch her go for a minute, then shake my head and putting my phone to my ear again, I start walking.

"Jack?" I demand. "I'm coming home, so you'd better clean up that beer mess, got it? And make sure it's not messy."

"It was messy before I came," he points out.

Was it? I can't remember... Dang. "Fine, whatever," I mutter. Then I pause, finally climbing into my car. "Oh! Guess what!"

"What, man?"

"I'm apparently married!"

Silence.

"Dude, I'm not drunk enough to miss the 'apparently' and sure as heck I heard 'married'... you said that, right?" Jack asks slowly. "Married? As in, a ring, and all that crap? Oooooh, A-man! You pulled a drunk-man stunt! Awesome!"

"You're weird," I tell him. "And it wasn't a stunt. We just.... got insanely hyped on beer and sugar. Next thing I know, I'm waking up next to some pretty girl who's got a cool ring on her finger."

He whistles. "Maybe she was already married!"

I sigh. "Nope. She seems to have been at the bar same reason as myself. We got dissed. Then she was all 'hey, this is the ring I always wanted!' and waving a knife around, too."

"Hot," he says impressed. "You're bringing her over, right? Or leaving her? Oh, I heard you can just like, rip those certif-y thingies. Yeah?"

I snort. "Apparently, we sent mine off to Japan. Or China. I dunno," I shrug. "Listen, I'm coming home. Clean up the mess, and we'll talk some more."

"With coffee?" He asks hopefully.

I close my eyes with a light moan, already imagining him jumping around with all that sugar. "Fine," I mutter. "Just clean it up. Be there soon." And I hang up.

As I start the car, I glance at my wrist and realize something. What.... I move my jacket sleeves around. "What? No, no, come on, no..." I moan, and slap the wheel.

I give a huff, staring hard at my wrist.

No bracelet.