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“We have to drive home tonight!”
“Yeah? So?”
“So, you just drunk half a bottle of booze! You can’t drive after just getting out of a DWI, and you sure as shit aren’t riding bitch behind me.”
“Oh. Damn. Sorry.” Driving after drinking didn’t even occur to me. It should have, though. A few months ago, I stupidly raced another guy on a public street, and the dummy lost control and wrecked his car. I hadn’t drunk much, but since there was an accident and he got hurt, I got arrested. Remy wasn’t happy about bailing me out of jail, that’s for sure.
“It’s fine,” Bear mutters with a heavy sigh that says it’s definitelynotfine. “Why didn’t you get any photos of Laurel?”
I take another swig before answering since there’s no snap of the fingers to go back to completely sober now. “Ah, I couldn’t remember what she looks like,” I lie since I didn’t know that’s who he wanted photos of. He should’ve been more specific. All he said was he wanted photos. Jeez. And now he’ll get pissed at me because he didn’t provide enough details.
“She’s the bride! You know, the only one in a white dress?”
“Oh. Right. I didn’t see anyone in a white dress either.” It makes sense that he wanted to see photos of his ex-wife, but again, he should’ve told me those were the pictures he was after.
“Then go look again.”
Again? Shit. What choice do I have? If I don’t go back in, Bear will barge in, and someone will most likely recognize him.
“Fine. Here.” I shove the bottle toward him since I don’t see any trash cans nearby, and I’m not a litterer.
Thankfully, this time when I go back inside, there’s a woman in white with red hair dancing in the middle of the floor while everyone else just stands around watching. That has to be Laurel, the bride, right? I quickly zoom in on her with my phone to snap a few pics, then head back out to the lot. Hopefully, it’s what Bear wanted.
The walk back is different than before. The ground keeps slanting hard at random times, making me stagger.
“Got ’em!” I shout with my phone raised in the air as I walk toward Bear.
“Okay, good. Now, keep it down,” Bear replies. “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”
He trades me the bottle for the phone.
It takes him longer to go through these pictures, even though there are fewer of them. “Is this the groom?” He holds up the screen for me to see, and I have to squint because it’s blurry.
“I don’t know.” What did he expect me to do? Walk up and ask someone if the guy she was dancing with was the groom, giving away the fact that I wasn’t actually invited?
“Did she kiss him?”
I furrow my brow in thought as I try to recall. “Ah, maybe.” Hell, I can’t remember.
My brother looks through those same photos for what seems like forever until my bladder begins to protest.
“Uh, Bear?”
“Yeah? You did good. These pics are…they’re exactly what I needed,” he says, which is a relief but not the one I need most at the moment.
“Okay, that’s good,” I tell him. “But, ah, now I have to take a piss.”
“Then take a piss. Nobody’s around.”
He wants me to pull my dick out here? In the middle of the parking lot?
“I can’t go out in the open like this!”
“Why not?”
“I-I don’t know. It’s gross. What if someone comes along and slips in the puddle and gets my piss all over them?”
“That’s unlikely,” he assures me.
