Page 47 of Make Me Laugh

The bartender comes back with two shots. Joey slides the extra my way and holds hers up. “To ten-million views.”

She downs hers, but I’m frozen with my mouth hanging open. “T-Ten? Million?” I stumble on my words.

She nods, and I take my shot, needing something to calm my racing heart. It hasn’t even been two full days since the video was posted.

“Your life is about to change, West Parker.”

I mimic her calmness, leaning in to talk over the loud music. “It already has.”

And it has nothing to do with a viral video.

Kell, as usual, is the drunkest. The kid cannot hold his alcohol.

I say kid, although he’s twenty-two with a bachelor’s degree. I’ll never not see him as the nine-year-old who brought tadpoles into his house, hid them under his bed because he didn’t want his mom to find them, forgot about them, and a few months later, had to explain to his parents why they had a frog problem…

I promised them I’d watch out for him—they would probably think I’m doing a shit job if they saw their son stumbling down the sidewalk, butchering a cover of Jolene, but I’d argue this might be the most fun he’s had since the accident.

In between his slaughter of Dolly Parton and having to catch him before he takes a bite out of a curb, Kell throws his arm over my shoulder and leans in closer than he needs to, slurring loudly. “So, if you’re not gonna marry her, can I?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer, untangling his limbs from me to stumble into Joey.

“Kell, keep your hands where I can see them,” I warn, jokingly. Kind of.

She wraps an arm around his midsection without hesitation, helping him walk a straight line. It doesn’t work well, but she manages.

“Whaddaya say, Josette? Wanna marry me? I know West is funny and has like a fucking eight pack.” Kell hiccups. “But he can’t say the alphabet backwards.”

I watch the way Joey’s hips move, swaying in perfect rhythm, pushing her dress higher and higher without free hands to pull it down.

I would help, but there’s no one around to see but me… and I really like the view.

“Z, Y, X, Q—nope. Hold on, let me start over.”

Joey peeks over her shoulder, dragging her eyes from the tips of my shoes to my heavy gaze. I feel more drunk by the time she turns around.

Thankfully, the comedy club is just a few blocks away, and we’re back before we have to carry Kell the rest of the way. He tumbles inside and is now officially Enzo’s problem.

I close the door and lean against it with two arms extended. The whole camper shakes, and it’s easy to hear Kell stomping around, followed by Enzo’s booming voice. “Oh, no you don’t! We aren’t cuddling, Kell! Get out of here!”

Thump.

Kell was either pushed or fell off the bed.

My hands slide down the door, and I turn to find Joey staring at me. I can’t get a read on her, and it’s going to drive me mental! “I’m not going in there until Enzo tucks him in.”

Joey cocks her head. “It’s like you and your scary tattooed best friend have a baby together.”

I breathe a sorry laugh. “If you only knew the half of it.” I don’t let my mind wander there. Everyone has skeletons in their closet. Including the goofy comedian. I just don’t like to talk about mine with anyone but my therapist.

“Well, since we’re stuck out here.” Joey points to the table near the back door of the club—yes, we stay in their parking lots sometimes. It’s easy and cheap. I’m not made of money. Yet…

I’ve seen more dollar signs this weekend than I ever have.

We take seats across from each other at the weather-worn plastic table. Its green color has faded to a chalky matte I’m sure will rub off on our clothes, the chairs in questionable condition.

Joey stares at me, and I stare at her, unsure of what to say.

It feels like we’re both skirting around a goodbye.

I don’t want this to be goodbye.