Page 57 of Love, Luck & Clusterf*ck

I didn’t know how she did it, but she poured more alcohol down her throat. I was spinning just watching her. I closed my eyes but quickly realized how screwy that idea was.

“What do you think he’s doing this weekend? He’s off fucking someone else, that’s what.”

“But….” I tried very hard to think about it, but having shit for brains didn’t make that possible.

“Motherfucking piece-of-shit, ass-licking bastard.” She looked to be strangling a pillow. Poor thing. “He doesn’t deserve to live.”

I tried reaching up for her hand. “You should be down here with me. We’re having an earthquake.”

“Promise me you won’t let him get away with it.”

“How’s it snowing in here?”

Was there a window open? When was the last time it snowed in April? Bits of white fluffy stuff floated down on me. I opened my mouth to taste the flakes.What the fuck?I coughed, spitting them out.

“Promise me, Perry. Right now.”

“Um, promise?” But what was I promising? I picked up a handful of fluff. Wait, that wasn’t snow. I blinked up. Christa was ripping apart our pillow.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Pretending this is Dre’s face.”

Oh yeah. Dre. Now what was she saying about—

“He wants you to have this fucking relationship with him, but he doesn’t want to play by the same rules. He’s off screwing someone else and lying about it.”

“But how do you know?”

“Iknow. It’s a feeling.”

“But—”

“He should be catheterized with a hot poker.”

Okay, first of all… ow. I squeezed my legs together. I didn’t have adick, but even I could feel that. Second, I couldn’t fucking think straight. I had questions but couldn’t form them well enough to ask.

“You’re a good friend, Christa. The best.” She was. I could at least figure that one out. She was getting angry for me when I couldn’t.

“Why’s his ugly, worthless truck here?”

“He wants me to keep an eye on it while he’s gone.”

“While he fucks someone else? Fuck that. I have a better idea. Get up.”

“Ha-ha. Sure.”

She tugged me into a sitting position and I pressed my palms to the ground, convinced that I’d be tumbling right back down. But turned out it wasn’t too bad. Maybe I wasn’t as thought as I drunk I was. Ha-ha. I laughed at my own joke.

Christa snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Focus, Perry.” She held the bottle to my lips once again. “Drink.”

And that’s when things really got weird.

“What are we doing, Christa?”

I was hanging on to her bedroom dresser while she rummaged around in the drawer. How we’d made it there with only each other for support was one of those mysteries.

“Here, hold this.”

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