Page 46 of The Other Guy

My body goes solid and I turn to face him fully after turning the now clean brownie bowl upside down in the dish drainer. “Uh… I think so?”

He laughs so hard he starts wheezing.

“Oh, child. Only you. Did he respond?”

“Not yet.”

He hoots and then slaps the table. “I bet you anything you have the wrong number.”

“No, I don’t! I remembered it!”

“After four tall beers? Right.”

He shakes his head and stands up, gets his phone off the charger on the counter, and scrolls through, rattles off a number. “That sound right?”

“I don’t remember!”

“Well, look!”

I pull out my phone, grumbling about the old man not always having to be right. “Fine! Fine. Okay… what was his number again?”

He says it and I know… I just know my face has to betray me. Shit.

Shit!

It was the wrong flipping number!

“Kyle?”

“Yes?” he asks, humor lacing his tone.

“I may or may not have gotten a little cocky and not remembered it entirely correctly.” I tell him the number I have in my phone and he laughs even harder when there are only two correct. Two! Boy, drunken memory isn’t great.

“You thought you were so clever.”

“I did! I was! It’s all the beer’s fault, you know.”

“Sure.” He nods a few times and gives me a placating look. He should just pat me on the head for good measure.

“Well, give me his number then. I’m completely sober now but I still want to screw with him a bit.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“What a way to go out…”

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