Lasting Lyric (17 page)

“Only had me a couple drinks,” he slurs.

“Try more like a few. A few too many. Come on.” I say goodbye to the Priest’s, then continue guiding my dad out to my truck. Once situated, and on the road, I mention his drinking. “I noticed you were drinking more than usual tonight, Dad.”

“Bah!” he shouts, waving his hand at me. “None of that nonsense.”

“Okay, well…we’ll talk about it when you’re sober.”

“I’m an adult, Slim Jr.. Leave it at that,” he spats at me. Not wanting to start an argument with a drunk, I let it slide and continue driving.

Before we arrive at his house, I look over at my dad a few times to make sure he’s okay. It’s rare that he gets so hammered. There has to be reason for it. He’s usually a very responsible drinker.

Leading him inside the house is not easy. My dad is not a lightweight, and is slightly taller than me, so dragging him to his bedroom is no picnic. I help him off with his shoes, place them near his closet, then walk over to the bed and pull the covers over him. No way was I gonna take off his pants. There are some things I don’t want to see, and that is seeing my dad in his tighty whities. No thanks.

I’m ready to walk out of the bedroom, when my dad says, “I want to know more about this Twitter picture that’s been all over the place.”

Stuffing my hands in my front pockets, I walk back over to him. “Nothing to say,” I shrug. “I took it, and posted it.”

His eyes stay closed when he mumbles out, “Saw me some love in both your eyes.”

Shaking my head, and finally not hiding my feelings, I reply, “For once, I am not gonna argue with you. I have very strong feelings for Lyric. Not sure if she feels the same about me, yet, but…I know there’s something there.”

Not even sure he’s aware I just spilled the truth, he asks, “You know what day it is?”

“What, Dad?”

“Max.”

“Max,” I ask, obviously clueless. “What about M -”
Wait. Wait a Godammit minute.
No wonder my dad got drunk tonight. It’s the anniversary of my brother, Max’s, death. How in the hell did I forget.
Fuck
!
Now I need another fucking drink. I never forget the anniversary. This makes me feel like shit, and a complete moron. What a screwed up night this turned out to be.

My parents’ never discuss Max’s death. They rarely talk about him anymore, like he was never here, or a part of our family. The only time my dad gets drunk is on this day, and I didn’t even clue in on as to why. The death ruined our family, leading my mom back to Ireland. They never got divorced, which clearly shows me they’re still very much in love, yet don’t acknowledge each other. They much rather stay separated, which I’ll never understand why. It’s not like they ever see one another; they only talk a few times a month.

Making sure my dad is fully asleep, I get the fuck out of his house - a house full of memories - and go home. I really wish Lyric were with me. I need to hear her voice.

Fuck, I feel like shit. The first thing I did when I walked through my front door was go straight for the liquor cabinet. Took a couple shots of something, anything I could get my hands on. Not that it did the trick of feeling any better, I thought it could at least numb my stupidity. I was wrong. Stupidity is still running strong. Dragging a hand through my hair, and planting my ass in bed, I get out my phone to call Lyric. Since my mood has taken a dump, there’s nothing I need more than to hear her voice. I need to feel as if she’s nearby.

As I lie here in the dark, I wait for her to pick up. By the third ring, she finally answers, “Hi.” Her voice is pure honey to me right now, I already miss her.

In an unhappy tone, I respond back, “Hey.”

“You okay? You don’t seem very upbeat.”

Damn, she caught onto my fucked up mood immediately. “No, I’m not okay. I fucked up,” I groan.

“What do you mean, what’s happened?”

Laying an arm over my eyes, I tell her, “Totally forgot today was the anniversary of my brother’s death. Fucking idiot.”

“Oh Slim, I’m so sorry,” she gasps. “And why are you calling yourself an idiot, you’re far from it.”

“‘Cause all day it didn’t even cross my mind!” I snap. Eighteen years, you’d think I wouldn’t
ever
forget. When Max died, it had to be the worst day of my life. No…it
was
the worst day of my life. He was my best friend; I looked up to him, and thought the world of him. Makes me sick he was taken so early in life. Continuing, “Dad got super drunk at dinner tonight. After driving him home, he asked me what day it was. He passed out before we could talk about it. Can’t believe I’d forgotten the anniversary.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“Maybe. I dunno. On top of that, I didn’t even call my mom. I usually do.” I need to be kicked in my own ass for not calling my mom. “So fucked up,” I groan out again.

“So, call her now then, and stop beating yourself up over this. All because the anniversary slipped your mind, does not mean you don’t love your brother any less.” Even though she’s made a good point, I still feel like an ass. Not responding right away, Lyric calls my name. “Slim.”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m still here.”

“I know this is super hard on you, but you need to let it go. Call your mom. You’ll feel better once you do that, okay?”

“Yeah, okay, you’re right. I’ll give her a ring.”

“Good,” she says on an exhale.

This is why I needed to talk with her. She’s good at kicking me out of the gutter. I’ve had enough of my bullshit, and am ready to change the subject. Time to see what’s going on with Lyric’s brother. “What about you? What’s happening with Brock?”

This time she groans, and seems frustrated. Must have been a shitty day for her as well. “He’s…he’s gotten himself into some trouble, again. It’s going to hit every entertainment, social site.”

“Damn. It’s that bad?”

“Yes, it’s ridiculous!” she says, angrily. “He’s making a mockery of himself, and the family. Sloane, myself and Indie just finished up with our family meeting. Mom and Dad have no idea what’s going on yet. They’ll find out soon enough, though. Sloane is going to tell them before they see the crap all over the media.”

What kind of crap did her brother do, and why won’t she tell me? “You gonna tell me what he did, or am I gonna have to find out on Twitter?”

“I’m so embarrassed by it, Slim.”

What the hell
?
“Charlie, it’s me you’re talking to. I’m the last person you should feel embarrassed to talk to about this stuff.”

“I know, I know,” she says, in defeat. “Okay…he was caught slapping some woman’s butt, on video, after leaving some club. You could totally see how drunk he was, and how that woman didn’t appreciate it. She slapped him on the face, and pushed him away. Mind you, this was all taken on someone’s phone, and they had no desire to stop recording. My brother is such a moron!”

Shaking my head, I mutter, “Total dufus.”

“You’re telling me,” she exclaims. “Sloane had one of his security guys pick him up after the cops came. They almost arrested Brock! Ugh, he’s being so stupid!”

And I thought
my
situation was shitty. Brock is one fucked up dude. “What a porchdick, acting like that in public,” I comment.

“Exactly,” she grumbles. “Sloane brought him back to his house. He’s passed out in one of the guest bedrooms. I’m wiped.” Hearing her exhale, loudly, I think she fell onto her bed from the sound of things.

“Have you figured out what you’re gonna do?”

“Not much we
can
do,” she replies, with obvious disappointment. “He needs serious help, though. With this type of behavior, he’s going to ruin his career, and continue to put our family’s name in the mud. We’re going to talk with him in the morning, so I better get some sleep. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

I’m not ready to get off the phone. My whipped ass is becoming more whipped as the minutes tick on. Really wish we could be together right now, because it sounds like she needs a cuddle, just as much as I need one. “Wish I could be there for you,” I quietly mention.

“I wish I could be there for you, too,” she sighs.

“Hope you sleep well.”

“I stole one of your t-shirts to sleep in, hoping that will help,” she giggles.

Damn she’s good. “You did, did ya?” I smirk. “Sneaky thing you did, now you’re making me hard just thinking of you wearing my shirt.” No joke. Shooter is feeling it.

“And nothing else underneath it. Just me and your shirt.”

Shit. Fuck. Damn.
This woman… what she does to me. Her purring, and teasing is making my cock jump against my shorts. Grabbing my junk to calm it down, I say, “You are fucking naughty, Sunshine. How the hell am I gonna sleep tonight, knowing you’re pantiless, airing out your goods? Not fair.”

“Airing out my goods?” she laughs. “Goodnight, Hot Stuff.”

That’s it. She’s done playing, and needs some rest. “Call me if you need me.”

“I will, and same goes for you.”

“I always need you,” I reply, rather seriously. No joke. I fucking need her like a baby needs it’s milk.
Whipped ass.

“Aw,” she chuckles. “You’re going to make me tear up if you keep up with your sappy comebacks.”

I’m not so sure she truly understands how serious I am. “It’s true, Lyric. Need you like you won’t believe.”

Finally, I think she just now got it. Her reaction is nothing but a whisper when she says, “I need you too.”

“Night, babe.”

“Night.”

After putting my phone on my night stand, I lie in the dark, thinking about Lyric, and how she makes me feel. There is no one better fit for me than her. One night without her, and already I am hating it. It’s gonna be one hell of a week sleeping, and not cuddling with her. As if she knew I was thinking about her, Lyric sends me a quick text, reminding me to call my mom. At the end she gives me an emoji kissy face. I smile at that stupid kissy face, and listen to her. I call my mom.

I HATED MORNINGS. SERIOUSLY, I
could sleep till noon if it meant I didn’t have to wake up to do adult stuff. After I got off the phone last night with Slim, I did a bit of reading before I tried to go to sleep. It helped a little bit, until I woke up with pressure in my chest. A small anxiety attack hit me. To help, I took a walk around Sloane’s property. He lived on a four acre lot, surrounded by trees, golf course, basketball court, swimming pool and guest house. His house was a fourteen thousand square foot mansion, with eight bedrooms. Kind of insane for a bachelor to be living in such big quarters, but my big brother loved it. He had a five car garage, with three working cars inside; an Audi, BMW, Lexus. His love for nice things are never taken for granted. He treasures every thing he purchases. Anyways, I took a walk around his lighted property until I felt myself easing up. Even though Slim told me to call him if I had problems in the night, I just couldn’t. He had to wake up super early. Besides, I believe my anxiety and nightmares have slowed down a bit since being with Slim. This attack wasn’t as bad. It felt good to get some fresh air, and to take in the peace and quiet before all hell broke loose in the morning. After my walk, I was able to settle back down, and fall back to sleep.

Aside from an okay night’s rest, hearing Sloane going at it with Brock made me hate mornings even more so. It wasn’t even ten, I don’t think. Yes, I said ten. Not a morning person. But I knew Sloane had every right to be yelling at Brock. What he did last night was downright disgusting and embarrassing. Someone had to teach my very much adult brother a lesson, or give him a good punch in the face. He needed to wake up, grow up, and stop being such a clown. Already his name, and that stupid video of him, slapping that woman’s butt was all over the internet. I even saw a Twitter post from the talk show,
The View
. The hosts discussed my brother’s behavior as one of their hot topics. Good Lord, he was in the center of every joke of all celebrity jokes right now.
So not funny.

I really, really just want to go back home to Slim, back to the other night with us in that hot tub. What a night. I have never felt so cherished in all my life, my body is now craving him again. He’s blown up my world, my thoughts, my everyday rituals, it’s impossible to think straight. I send him a quick text, letting him know I miss him.