Page 31 of The New Year's Party
Bennett glanced down at his feet. So much for the stable center.
“Yeah, man,” said Phelps dryly, stepping toward Doug like he was going to break up the moment. But Doug held up a hand—the one still holding his cell phone—and continued.
“They—they—” Doug spun his hands together, like he was trying to help himself cycle the words out “—they don’t sell themselves, okay? I’m—I’m proud of what I do, alright? Gutters—peopleneedthem.” He licked his lips, his eyes flitting between them all.
Jenn laughed, a little too loud, and gripped Will’s shoulder.
Doug’s eyes shot up to her, then down, then he cleared his throat. “Anyway, uh... like I said, I’ve been working my ass off... and I’m finally getting a little recognition. Today, my manager called me in, and... because of all these fuckingguttersI’ve sold, I got promoted!”
“Wow, congratulations!” Allie burst out, and it felt like the whole group of them exhaled in tandem—yes, at the good news, but mostly at the fact that Doug was done talking.
“What’s the promotion?” said Jenn.
“Junior sales associate to sales associate,” said Doug.
There was one more awkward second of silence, during which Bennett realized two things. One, Doug was high. And two, Hellie knew it.
Then Phelps shouted, “Well, this is cause to celebrate, people! All hail the Gutter Man!”
Everyone clapped. Phelps whistled, Will whooped, Olivia said, “That’s great, Doug! Congratulations!” and honestly, it felt good for Bennett to let out a big woo-hoo of his own, because this was a party, and whether Doug’s good news was true or a lie, whether he was high or sober, they were going to spend the next few hours together, and Bennett wanted it to go well this year. For all of them to strengthen the bonds that had worn down recently. The older he got, the more he realized how precious, how rare this kind of long-term friendship was.
Phelps cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. “Next promotion, Emperor of the Wo-orld!” At this exact moment, Doug’s phone exploded to life with House of Pain’s “Jump Around.” Phelps arched his back and howled at the ceiling. Doug did too.
Bennett laughed at their antics, and suddenly all four of them, the OG Four, were moving as if drawn together by a magnetic force, to the center of the foyer—Will and Phelps and Bennett closing in around Doug, now hollering the lyrics they’d made their own dirty version of together over the years,Get it up, get it in, now for the win! I came to screw, and you know where I’ve been—now jumping to the rhythm of their chanting, their arms looping around each other’s shoulders, Doug like a wind-up toy in the center, hair flying, jumping straight up and down like it was a mosh pit.Stylin’,flyin’, you get the gist, I got room on my list for your mom and your sis—
“Jump around!” shouted Bennett at the top of his lungs. There were no more thoughts in his head, there was no embarrassment, nothing but the raw, pulsing immediacy of their old bond, strong and alive as ever. “Jump around! Roll up, get high, and go down!”
Chapter 15
Hellie
The boys have gone crazy.
Hearing them all shout and jump around Doug should be funny but it feels cruel, like they’re celebrating to mock him, even though I know they’re not. It makes me want to cry; then again, everything makes me want to cry these days.
I think my hormones are still going crazy from losing my baby. I named him Theo, even though they never told me if it was a boy or a girl. I was just eleven weeks. I just really liked the name Theo. It made him sound like the kind of boy who would wear glasses and read books and be nerdy and sweet. A boy who would love his mommy more than your average ten-year-old and fourteen-year-old and thirty-year-old. Who would text me when he had a date. A boy that would have been mine, all mine.
I’ve worked so hard, so many jobs, for so long. For myself—obviously I need to eat too—but mostly for Doug, because he’s so fragile, which I saw when no one else saw, because he needs me to be strong. With trying for the babies, I knew we weren’t in a great financial position or whatever, I knew it would be tough, but none of that scared me. I wanted something for myself. I wanted something of my own.
I watch him jump in tandem with his friends like they’re seventeen instead of thirty-five and I miss the babies that leftus and I wonder if those babies would’ve been the catalyst for him to change.
I’m not stupid. I knew that my ultimatum would probably only work temporarily... but I hoped. Maybe that’s my major flaw. That I always hope.
Tonight, some final part of me is breaking, and every time Doug jumps in their improvised mosh pit, every time the floor shakes slightly under his feet, is one more strike of the hammer.
I want to scream,Stoppretending everything is okay!But I hold it in. I’m really used to holding it in, but this is the hardest thing to keep to myself:
Doug was fired this morning.
He has no idea that I know, of course.
I followed the blue dot to the Windsor Tavern. I saw him, through the window, talking to the bartender. Taking a shot. Leaning his head down on the bar. I almost went in—and then I wised up. I can never get the straight story from Doug, so I turned around, crossed the street, and marched straight into EdgeTech Gutters. To my surprise, everything was as Doug had described it. The ugly fluorescent lights, the nature photography calendar on the wall, the tiny Christmas tree on the counter, and John’s wife up front at the reception desk, though not as ugly as Doug had described her. She just looked stressed.
“I need to talk to John,” I said.
“And you are...” she said.
“Helen, Doug’s wife.”
