Page 63 of The New Year's Party
“Ow!”
“We should get back to the party,” said Phelps. He checked his phone, then slapped his forehead. “Fuck!We missed midnight!”
Doug checked his own phone, a little mud splattered on the edge but otherwise fine. Yep. Quarter after twelve.
“I guess we can pull up a Mountain time zone broadcast,” groused Phelps. “Have a redo at one.” He rubbed his face. “OfcourseI miss fucking midnight at my own party.”
“Relax, Cinderella,” said Doug. “You’re not a pumpkin yet.”
“So... we’re okay?” said Phelps, looking at Bennett.
Bennett sighed as he worked his lanky form to standing. “I mean... what you did wasnotright, let’s be fucking clear on that point, but...”
“Let’s focus on the fact that I am not the father of your child and we are all very happy about that,” said Phelps. “And honestly, I don’t know what this says about our friendship, but the fact that you thought I fucked your wife and then kept being friends with me for five years? It’s either mad props, or...”
“You’re insane,” filled in Doug. If he thought for a second that Hellie had slept with one of these douchebags, there would be literal hell to pay. What was Bennett thinking, being quiet about this for five fuckingyears? It was absolutely beyond Doug. Just like it was beyond Doug how people like Bennett and Olivia kept living their boring domestic lives, year in and year out. So depressing, every time Bennett talked about hisjob, his life. He thought of Hellie with the BB gun, and her unstoppable energy as she busted up those plates. He thought of how, if she ever cheated on him, he’d have to either kill her or kill her boyfriend, because that was love, man,thatwas passion. Everything else was just depressing indifference. The image of his wife, so petite and fierce, surged up in his mind, and another wave of affection made him weak in the spine. Especially when he remembered how after pulverizing those plates like a heroine in a video game, she turned and kissed him. She tasted sweet and delicate, but she was a badass.
You know what? Hellie loved him. And he loved her, more than squares like Bennett and Olivia could ever understand. He remembered their wedding day. He was twenty-four when they got married at his mom’s church. Hellie’s dress was huge, like a frosted cupcake. She carried grocery store roses. He wore a gray three-piece suit and Chuck Taylors. The reception was in the basement and they had Chick-fil-A that Bennett picked up. Will, his best man, gave the toast, and went on about what a treasure Hellie was, which was the truest thing Will had ever said, and Phelps MCed and led them all in the Electric Slide. He and Hellie danced to “Landslide”—he heard it playing in his head as he remembered the texture of the wedding gown and her skin under his fingers... Stevie Nicks crooning the line about the ocean tides and the seasons of life... aah. That was a good day.
He wasn’t thinking straight. He’d been angry at Hellie on their way to the party. He’d gotten a little nutso. But that kiss... it reminded him that she loved him. Suddenly he felt certain that if he came clean about what happened at EdgeTech this morning, she would be on his side. She’d realize her ultimatum didn’t apply. Why hadn’t he realized how simple this could be? Why hadn’t he wrenched that fax out of John’s stubby hand, run home with it, and told her the truth?
But it wasn’t too late. His life didn’t have to end at dawn or whatever poetic bullshit he’d been noodling about. He’d been all over the place emotionally, but now he saw clearly: he had a rock star wifey, just like he’d always told anyone who would listen, and now he would come clean. About the job, not the cocaine, because that might make her very upset, though she had taken his tequila shots surprisingly in stride. Then, together, they could figure out how to ruin John and his ugly wife—
His stomach growled. The salmon and the mousse weren’t playing well, or maybe it was the tequila... or the cocaine... Either way, things in bowel-land were most definitely not copacetic right now.
“Man, I have to take a shit,” said Doug.
Bennett laughed.
“Now?” said Phelps. “Can you even sit down on a toilet seat at this point?”
“I’ll one-side it,” Doug said, “and unless you want me to shit on your couch—”
“Let’s get back to the house,” said Phelps. “Anyway, you need some clean clothes, and we need to see if Allie saved us any Jell-O shots.”
“Hey, one more thing...” Bennett said to Phelps. “Did you really keep Will’s fifteen K? After the restaurant?”
“What the—Dude,no,” said Phelps, making a face. “I gave that back. Where are all these accusations coming from? Did you guys all get together beforehand and decide to make tonight into the all-you-can-eat Phelps FuckingBarbecue?”
“What fifteen K? Like, fifteen thousand dollars?” said Doug. He could use some money, if Will was handing some out.
“Nothing, nothing,” said Bennett. “Sorry. Forget I said anything.”
They exited into the cold night. Doug had to limp. Phelpsand Bennett were walking more stiffly than usual, with a little more distance between them, but they’d figure their shit out, right?
“You know, it’s not a bad life,” said Doug, because all of a sudden he was feeling quite cheerful, in a philosophical kind of way. The high of the drama, the slight threat of destruction, was just what he’d needed to remember what was important in life. Now he had a plan that made actual fuckingsense. He’d use the facilities, and then he’d pull Hellie aside and tell her the truth.
Actually, before that, he’d grab Ted and they’d do a line of coke. He’d already done some, so another line or two wouldn’t matter, he could always get clean starting tomorrow, New Year’s resolution–style, and being high one final time would help him get through that conversation with Hellie, not to mention numb the two fucking holes in his butt cheek...
The back of Phelps’s house glowed gently. It looked inviting. He just needed Bennett and Phelps to get buddy-buddy again.
“Hey, B,” Doug instructed, “my Wi-Fi signal here is shit, pull up thisSNLvideo I want to show Phelps...”
Bennett gave Doug a look between reluctant and annoyed, but Doug made a lassoing motion. “Come on, just one favor, it’s the injured man asking...”
Bennett pulled up the video and Phelps leaned in.
“It’s the bestSNLskit of all time,” encouraged Doug. Soon his two friends would be laughing again—later they’d commend Doug for being the glue that held the group together. “You’re gonna love this one—”
