“Thank you,” I say, grabbing an extra water.
“For what it’s worth, I think you two make a great team.”
My insides flop about like a fish on the deck of a boat. But I have little time to mull over what he means by “great team.” Out of nowhere Dan rocks up and drapes an arm over Gadget’sshoulder. He stares at me wide-eyed, but a second later his eyes are rolling up and he’s taking two, three, four steps backwards, then he’s on his ass in the middle of the marquee.
Snatch looks over from the dance floor and points to Dan. “She fell over!” he sings.
Gadget helps Dan to his feet and props him up like a puppet.
“He’s the one, he is. He’s . . . is this one right ’ere.” Dan’s slurring his words and closing and opening his eyes at separate times. Jesus, he’s more cooked than Pi. Must be some hella strong fizz they’re serving here. He rubs his hand on Gadget’s belly as though he’s stroking an enormous dog. “Isn’t he the one?” I think he’s talking to me, but I have no idea.
“Yeah, he’s some bleddy boy,” I reply.
“Mate, you got it by the way. You got the captain’s bob. The caplims lob. The lob? The job! You’re the new . . .” Dan makes an unidentifiable sound, and laughs like he’s at the Edinburgh Fringe. “You’re he. The new me!” He’s shouting now, and party goers are turning to look. Nobody’s dancing right now.
“You mean, Gadget’s the new captain?” Snatch asks. Snatch is an experienced merrymaker. A raver from way back in the day. He’s old school, and hardcore, and compared with Dan and Pi—fuck, where did Pi come from—he looks like a wizened sage.
“’Sackly,” Dan says. He looks at Gadget, but he’s too far gone to notice the panic behind the fly-half’s eyes.
“Uhh—” Gadget begins, looking at Owen and beckoning him over for help, but Dan interrupts.
“Not gonna lie, bud, you’re our only hope. Cents’d be nuffin’ without you.”
I mean, he’s not wrong. Still, Snatch and I share amused yet insulted glances.
“Johan said it’s you or nobody. It’s in the bag. These fuckers didn’t even stand a chance.” Dan idly waves a finger betweenSnatch and Pi and me. “So congrat—” He hiccups, then belches. “Ulations.”
Snatch frowns at me so hard there’s no longer any visible skin between his thick black brows.
We all look at Gadget for some kind of response, but what follows is nothing but pure unadulterated awkward-as-fuck silence. It stretches on and on. I can’t think of anything to say to fill it, and Snatch is mouthing, “What the hell?” to me.
Pi stumbles forward. “Abs is gonna bepiiiiiiiissed.” He laughs. “Wait, where is Abs?”
Shit, Abs! I’d totally forgotten about him. We were supposed to give him a lift back to Bath. I pull my phone out and ring him twice, but he doesn’t pick up. I fire off a couple of messages and extend him a ten-minute window to make his presence known or I’m leaving without him.
“We’ll go look for him,” Gadget says. It’s an obvious attempt to extract himself from the conversation and I don’t blame him. “If you’ve left before we find him, he can bunk at our place tonight. It’s just down the lane.”
“Thank you,” I reply.
“Lando’s missing too, and I have a feeling they’ve slunk off together. I’ll check the manor house,” Owen says, drawing up next to Gadget.
“He hates Orlando, though. He literally did nothing but bitch about the fucker all the way from Bath to the ceremony and then from the ceremony to here,” I reply.
Gadget shrugs. “Love makes you say stupid things sometimes. And Harry Ellis is a glutton for punishment.”
I watch Mathias and Owen disappear into the night, my head swimming from the onslaught of new information.
We don’t locate Abs, but Pi doesn’t seem too bothered that his BFF is missing, so we make our way home. I’m convinced all the upchuck inside Pi has been upped and chucked, butnevertheless, I drive with the windows rolled right down to the rubber.
“If you’re gonna barf again, make sure your head is outside the car.” At least I can hose down the bodywork.
Either he doesn’t hear me, or he’s forgotten, and as I pull onto his drive thirty minutes later, he purges his stomach once more, this time all over his lap. We both groan. I jump out of the car, run around to his side, and try to pull him out before that sweet, acidic stench soaks into the leather.
Miraculously, it misses the seats altogether, and it’s only clear liquid from the bottle of water he’s just downed, but it’s all pooled in the foot mat and has seeped through the seat belt.
“I’m sorry. Your new car. I’m sorry,” he says as I guide him towards his house.
Trekkie only wants to say hello to Pi, which is understandable, but Pi’s even too drunk for that.
