Page 143 of The Vacation Mix-Up
I go to ask her why she keeps saying peanut butter, when Ben butts in.
“Who drinks peanut butter?” He scrunches his face. “Give us two rounds of Jager Bombs.”
“Not for me,” I say.
“I never said they were for you.” He glances at Riles. “She needs this.”
My gut churns yet again, even though I agree.
“I need what?” she asks, not looking up from the sheet of paper in her hands.
“Liquid courage, love.”
“Yes, yes, I do.”
Several minutes later, four Jager Bombs are lined up in front of Ben and Riles, Ben instructing her on how to drink them.
“Fill your glass up halfway with the Red Bull and drop your shot in, like so. Then, all you do is chug.” He raises his Jager Bomb. “Ready?”
“Yep.”
They clink glasses, Ben’s empty within seconds, Riles politely sipping as her eyes squint.
He lets out an “aaah” and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Stop playin’ with it, love. Chug faster.”
She tips hers higher, swallowing like crazy until her empty glass is slammed back onto the table, remnants dribbling down her chin.
I offer her a napkin, and she takes it.
“That tastes like medicine.”
Ben grins. “It does.”
Riles licks her lips. “I like it.”
“Thatta girl.” He pours another two, and I want to tell him to slow down. I know she needs this or, more accurately, wants this, but I’m concerned she’ll be in no state to do what she must tomorrow.
“Bottoms up!” he hollers, clinking her glass yet again.
They both chug, Riles almost beating him, her hands shooting into the air not long after his. To say I’m impressed is an understatement, so I kiss the side of her head as a burp bursts from her throat.
“Beg my pardon,” she says, covering her mouth, eyes wide.
Ben clutches his gut and belches as well before offering her a fist bump. She giggles, balls her fist, and taps his.
God, help me!
“So, what’s it gonna be, love? Elton and Kiki?”
Her eyes light up. “You’re going to sing with me?”
“Damn straight I am.”
Clapping, she slips off the stool and latches onto Ben as they walk toward Carlos, both of them soon on stage, illuminated in a blue glow, their voices murdering “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” along with my eardrums.
Laughter dances in my chest as they joke around, pretending to gift each other their hearts, Riles twirling and forgetting all her sorrows, Ben the perfect accomplice. And as the night wears on, I realize I’m going to have to drag her out of the bar.
“I think she’s done,” Ben says as Riles drones to the lyrics of “Just Smile” by Nat King Cole. He clears out his ear with his fingertip, rolls a ball of earwax, and then flicks it onto the ground.
