Page 158 of Wait for Him

When Bennet told me he'd chartered a casino and pub crawl bus to celebrate my recently announced engagement, I had reservations. Now, watching him and Derrick spin in slow circles together in the middle of the club while Joseph quietly negotiates with death, I'm thinking I may have had a point.

I've been the sober one all night, barely sipping the same Crown and Coke since we sat down. I guess it just isn't something I feel like celebrating. It's a business transaction with a tux, but the guys have been throwing everything they've got at getting me into a better headspace without any of them actually saying that's what they're doing. The bus. The itinerary Bennet definitely overplanned. Derrick flying in when I haven't seen the bastard in years. Nobody has asked me one real question all night, and I'm grateful for it.

It's good to see Derrick, anyway. His schedule at the hospital ate him alive around the same time Sullivan swallowed me and Bennet whole, and somewhere along the way a few years passed without us being in the same room. He's got gray coming in at his temples now and looks like a man who hasn't had a full night's sleep since residency, but he's currently howling at the D.J., so the important parts clearly survived.

It's also an excuse to try getting my mind off Rose, which, if I'm honest, is the only reason I agreed to come.

I keep wondering if she saw the engagement announcement last week.

What she thought when she saw Rian beside me.

Whether it hurt.

Or worse, whether she felt relieved.

"You know what your problem is?" Derrick drops into the chair across from me, suddenly and suspiciously coherent. He points the Hand Grenade at my chest. "You're at your own bachelor party drinking like a designated driver."

"Somebody has to get you three home."

"Bullshit. We're two blocks from the hotel, and Bennet has GPS." His eyes stay on mine longer than a drunk man's should. "I've known you since we were teens, Jackson. I've seen you happy. This ain't it."

Fuck.

Then, before I can assemble a lie worth telling, he's back on his feet.

"SHOTS! Joseph, you beautiful coward, arise!"

And the moment is gone.

"Please. I wasn't built for this life," Joseph whines into the table.

I laugh and look around at these idiots who crossed state lines and organized transportation for the sole purpose of getting me shitfaced before a wedding none of them believes I'm particularly excited about.

Fine.

Maybe they're onto something. I down the rest of my drink.

"Fuck yeah, that's how you do it!" Bennet practically growls. "Another round!"

He yells this at no one. Our server is nowhere near us, and Bennet doesn't bother checking because in his world announcing a round is enough to summon one.

***

IT'S RAINING. IT'S... RAINING?

Where the fuck...?

It doesn't rain in Los Angeles. That's the whole thing about Los Angeles. Three hundred days of sun. That's the brand. There's an entire song about it never raining here. Famous song. Good fucking song. You can't just have rain in a place with a song specifically stating that rain isn't part of the package.

That's false advertising. Unless...climate change? Am I witnessing climate change? Right now? Personally?

I hold out my hand.

No. Wait. Ha. Sprinklers.

Sprinklers are a thing. Man-made rain. Los Angeles looked at a place with no rain and said, We're having lawns anyway, bitches. Then they went and got water from somewhere else. A mountain? Colorado? There was a whole thing about it. A scandal. Maybe a movie.

Doesn't matter. Pipes. Rain out of pipes on demand in a city with a song about not having any. We're so brilliant as a species. Always solving problems. Hmm. Problems. Like right now.