Chapter 18 - Billy and Mikey’s Night Out (Coping with Loss Poorly)

Flipping his collar down, Michael looked at himself in the mirror in his bathroom. Yeah. Fuck today. Fuck everything. He looked over at the novelty sticker. What a stupid Goddamn joke. He started to peel it off of the wall. Then he stopped himself. No. Now is not the time to redecorate. Now is the time to get fucked up.

He opened the door and stepped into the kitchen where Bill was ‘North Florida Dressed Up’ as well: button down shirts, khaki shorts and their finest leather sandals. Hell yeah. Keys in hand, wallets in pockets, hearts on sleeves, the fellas headed down the stairs.

Getting in Michael’s car, Bill started the conversation, “I just started having fun when that stick in the mud came and took our bitches!”

Michael tisked him, “They weren’t ‘our bitches’. They were companions who were too good to be true. Good things never last as long as you want them to.”

“I was trying to do a play on words with the dog-lady alien--it doesn’t matter. That zen bullshit doesn’t fly with me, Mikey, you had that corgi-looking bitch at our place for days before Fala and Harley showed up.”

“And?” Michael stalled.

“Bro! You can’t tell me you weren’t getting some from her for days!” Bill exclaimed.

“I did not.” Michael stated indignantly. “We slept together, but we didn’t do it.”

“Fuck you. You’re telling me that you haven’t bumped uglies?” Bill refuted.

“That is not what I said.” Michael retorted. “Nothing sexy happened until that night we heard you howling!”

“Oh, that night that you all broke your bed?” Bill winked.

Michael admitted, “I mean, yeah. But we weren’t having any sexy times then.”

Bill laughed in a way that said ‘yeah right’.

“My bed crapped out under the pressure of three above-Human-average bodies.” Michael waved Bill’s laughter off. “It was only after Fala and Harley assumed we were doing it that I guess, we kinda thought, if that’s what you assumed we were doing... like, we assumed you were--that we all might as well be going at it too.”

“Oh, that’s how it is?” Bill winked again, “Monkey assume, monkey do?”

“I mean, I guess?”

“Fair enough, Mikey, fair enough. Glad to hear we both were getting some.”

“Hey, we might still be able to, in the future.” Michael sought the silver lining.

Bill acquiesced, “Here’s hoping.”

Michael pulled into the Beer Globe, where he and Bill went when they planned to get schnockered. The doorman, Derek, was a larger man around Bill’s age. He wore a leather vest festooned with various patches. His hair was long enough to have a French braid down the back. The chin of his beard stuck out about four inches further than the rest of it. They showed IDs and tapped fists with Derek and settled down at a table with the best available view of most of the TVs. Bill assessed the scores while Michael brought up his BG app to see what they’d had and needed to add to their scorecard.

“Whatcha need, boys?” Their regular server asked with familiarity.

The games alone wouldn’t be enough for Michael to go. The drinks alone weren’t enough. The eye candy alone wasn’t enough either. However, when all three were combined, he was happy to go.

Bill pulled his eyes away from the TV, “Oh, Jennifer, my dear! What sweet serendipity brings us to the same bar?” He was laying it on thick.

“I work here.” Jennifer replied flatly.

“Ah yes, of course! Well, I’ll be having the Paulander Hefewizen and my good man Mikey, here will have…” Bill waved at Michael with a flourish. Michael answered with a simple nod. “The same. Thank you kindly.”

“No problem.” Jennifer blew her bangs out of her face as she walked away.

“Why do you always flirt with the waitresses?” Michael asked.

“Why not?”

“You’re not going to get with them.”

“I got Jenny’s number last time I was here.”

“Get anything out of that?”

“I might, now that I’ve got a motorcycle that runs.”

“I guess.”

“You can’t win if you don’t play.”

“Touché.”

Jennifer returned with their drinks.

“Prost!” They rang out together, tapped their drinks on the table and so the night began. Bill was in no rush, sipping at a couple German beers. Michael, however, planned to get fucked up and pray he got sober enough to drive them home.

Michael followed the Hefeweizen with a cider. Once those two unmixable alcohols settled in, he followed with a Warsteiner Dunkel that Jennifer recommended.

The bar had gotten crowded by this point. Michael caught her attention as he drank the last of this final drink, “Jenny! Jenny, this drink hurts my feelings. Why would you recommend a drink that would hurt my feelings!?” Bill got up to go to the bathroom.

Jennifer laughed and shrugged and walked away. She melted away in a swirling mass of limbs, clothes and bar stools. Michael’s vision blurred. The TVs spun in place with the rest of his vision. The spiraling football flew from the quarterback’s hand in a loop around the frame of his view and into the receiver’s chest, oriented a three quarter clockwise turn from square. He closed his eyes to then feel his stomach turn instead.

Michael opened his eyes only to clap them shut again. I know that I’m seeing things fucky, but am I seeing things? Was that Joph’rena? Can’t be, she’s walking on the walls. Nope. Shit. That part is the alcohol. That’s really her though. Her little black dress could probably fit on Michael, but he wouldn’t be able to fill it like she did. For her, it was proportionally delightful. As she stood, he could practically see her bellybutton. I hate having a penis sometimes, I hate this particular Purple Bitch. But I am just a boy. I’ll take in the sights, as unsteady as they are in this state.

“Hey Stranger.” Joph’rena said as she slid up to him.

“Mmm,” was all he could say at first. It took him a moment to accept that she was going to spin if he continued to look at her. “Mutha...Joph’rena! What a surprise!”

Joph’rena looked him up and down. “Yeah, long time no see. What’cha been up to?” Did she always talk like this? With an accent?

“You know, working...stuff. Trying to act like things are normal.” Michael took what, to him, seemed like a long, deep yawn. I need some oxygen. Maybe that’ll straighten my head. Oh, or some water.

“There you go, keep breathing, that’ll help.” Joph’rena coached.

Jennifer spun into Michael’s view. Joph’rena spoke to her in English, “Red Grail.” Funny how I can understand her in both languages in this state. Jennifer nodded and bobbed away. Turning back to him with a smile, she asked in Shil’vati, “You’ve gotten yourself drunk off of something other than my stash; I’m happy to see that.”

“What do you want from me?” Michael asked.

“Are you recruiting the Rakiri for a rebel group?” Joph’rena didn’t play.

Michael squinted at her, “What rebel group?”

Joph’rena leaned in, her dress revealing more skin. “You tell me.”

Michael slurred, “The fuck you talkin’, ‘Josepha’?”

“Ooh, you’re picking up on the Shil’vati slang, huh?” She smirked, “I bet you and those Rakiri do some language tutoring, huh?”

“Suffice to say,” He paused, hoping that he wouldn’t spin out of place for a moment. “I’ve been picking a few things up.”

“I don’t doubt that you have. I bet you have to carry a doggie bag when you’re with them.” Joph’rena laughed at her own joke. Jennifer delivered the bottle of Red Grail to their table. Bill is still in the bathroom?

Michael scrunched his face, “I don’t think that word means what you think it means.”

Joph’rena looked down the bottle toward him as she drank. “Hmm?”

“A doggie bag meant you were taking leftovers home, like, a million years ago.” Michael held one side of the table down harder than the other to keep it from spinning. “But I think you mean it like a dog poop bag. You know, like a pooper scooper!” He thought harder. “Yeah, that’s what you mean. The joke doesn’t quite have the same ring to it as ‘doggie bag’ so I understand your confusion and possible frustration.”

Joph’rena scowled at him, “Why are the Rakiri gathering at your house and how have you seduced them?”

Michael squinted one eye, the one on the side that was holding the table down, “I’ll have you know that no one is seducing anyone.”

“Not according to the thermal scans.” Joph’rena shook her head and smirked.

Michael couldn’t hold the table any longer. He closed both eyes and gave his head a single slight shake. “Good to know.” That seemed to put the room in its right place for the moment. “I don’t know why the Rakiri are coming to my house exactly, but I hear the Shil’vati amenities are lacking.”

Joph’rena rolled her eyes. “They can touch the thermostat when they figure out how to pay the bill.” She leaned in, “I know that Bel’a and Linnet were in the same pod as Serca; is that why they’re meeting with you? Are you their liaison to the rebels?”

Michael shook his head again. “I am no one’s liaison to anybody.” He thought a moment longer, I’m kind of a liaison as an interpreter. “Whatever. I don’t know anyone fomenting a rebellion against you.” He took another quick, deep inhale. “You sound like Darth Vader.” Joph’rena looked insulted for a moment. “Not like, with the wheezing and the whooshing noises, but talking about ‘Rebels’ and a ‘Rebel base’. The fuck is that about?” He contorted his face with confusion and humor.

“Shut up and talk to me!” Joph’rena scowled. And just how the hell do I do that? ‘Shut up and talk?’ Man, why do people have to say the most confusing things to me when I’m inebriated? Michael’s confusion grew. My face feels tight when I make these funny faces. I should make more of them. “Well which one do you want?”

“Which one of them?” She looked at her drink before taking another slug. “Well, I guess Linnet is the highest ranking one. I’d choose her.”

Michael flared his nose. Then he flared his nose again. Man, that feels funny. “Why is it that I’m drunk enough for my face to tingle, but I can still understand that you’re missing the point of what you’re asking me?”

Joph’rena stared at him a second before recognizing her error, “Talk, damn you!”

Michael started pinching his cheeks, “What was the question?”

“Are the Rakiri going AWOL?” Joph’rena hissed.

“I don’t know.” He pointed a finger up at the imaginary group of the Rakiri women. “They’re strong independent women,” then pointed at himself, “And they don’t need no man to make themselves happy.”

Joph’rena tugged at her tooth. “Do I need to take you back to the base?”

Michael raised his hands up into quotey fingers, “What and get another one of your ‘friends’ shot?” Michael immediately regretted this tease.

Joph’rena grabbed his middle fingers faster than he could react, slammed them to the table and pulled them to her side. She jammed her thumbnails up into his fingernails. Michael let out an involuntary whimper at being grabbed then a sharp high pitched squeal when she used her thumbnails. “Oh, stop being a baby, you’re barely bleeding.” She’d leaned over so that no one could see anything but a man being pulled into purple cleavage. A small squeal would be understandable in that instance. “You wanna run that by me again? You’re going to snipe another one of my,” she jutted her fingernails in a little more, for emphasis, “friends?”

Ffffuck. That was stupid. “I don’t know anything about any rebels. I mostly know that the Rakiris are coming to me because you bitches are horrible hosts.” His face grew redder, either in pain or in anger.

Either way, it seemed enough for Joph’rena. She looked over Michael’s shoulder. It made her let go of his fingers. He recoiled them as quickly as he could. He pressed the nails of his middle fingers down with his thumbs. He inhaled sharply in pain. She leaned in closely, “You’d better be telling the truth. We’re watching you.” As suddenly as she’d appeared, she was gone.

Michael looked down at his fingers. They were bleeding only a little bit. Fuck that hurt. I’d’ve told you that she ripped them off of my hands. He said to himself, feeling ashamed of himself for not being able to take the pain.

Bill sidled up to the table across from Michael, “What’s up, buddy?” His eyes were racing from home base to first already.

Michael put his hands on the table. He hoped, despite them both being drunk, that Bill might notice his fingers were red or swollen or have any other indication of injury. Bill did not notice. Fuck. I’m a puss. He shrugged his shoulders, “No, you about ready to go?”

“Already? It’s only been an hour.” Bill looked up from where he’d checked his watch. He could see the look of mild panic on Michael’s face. “...Ok buddy. Let me get one more and we’ll get out of here.”

Michael huffed and pressed his nails.

Moments later, when Jennifer squeezed her way back to their table, Bill ordered two more drinks. Michael asked for his check. Why does this shit happen to me? To think, I was missing having the Rakiri ladies at my house; little did I know the other shoe was going to drop: it just put me on Joph’rena’s radar again. Fuck! What bullshit! The room wasn’t spinning so hard anymore, but it was still disorienting. God, I hope I can drive home. He reached into his pocket and palmed his key ring. He pressed his car key against his fingernail as hard as he could. This’ll keep me grounded.

Michael kept this masochistic action going long after Jennifer returned with Bill’s drinks, well into the drinks. Bill’s brown irises ran the perimeter of his eye lashes and sometimes beyond. This was not atypical for Bill. Michael tried to get rip roaring as soon as possible for a couple of reasons, but the main being that he might be able to get sober before they left depending on how much he drank and how long they planned on staying out that night. Bill, on the other hand, started slow and then started pounding more drinks when Michael was ready to go.

It was a strange relationship, but it was what it was.

Finally, Bill’d paid off his bill, folded the receipt up before putting it in his back pocket as he got up from the table. He checked in with the doorman before they left. “How’s it going, Derek?” They bumped elbows before Derek got a good look at the two of them.

“You driving, Mikey?” Derek asked, not sure he was happy with that answer either. “Bill sure ain’t. You good?”

Michael gave Derek the most serious nod he could give, then a thumbs up.

Derek nodded back and resumed checking IDs.

Bill practically fell into the LaCrosse. Michael flared his nostrils and pressed his fingernails. Why do I agree to this shit? Turning the key, he made sure not to run over anyone backing out of the parking spot.

They got home and up the stairs. They said their goodnights and went their separate ways.

Fuck, I forgot. The bed is on the floor. Michael took off his clothes and slumped onto the bed, inches from the floor. He covered himself with his comforter and imagined warm fur covered limbs surrounding him. It’s definitely not the same. He stared at the ceiling. They’re watching me, huh?

Why?

Why would they waste any resources on me?

I’m not special in any way that might be meaningful to the Shil’vati. I can’t even take a little fingernail pain. He laughed at how pathetic he felt. The ceiling didn’t spin, but his core still felt wobbly. He closed his eyes, which was still a bad idea as it accentuated the unsteadiness of his stomach. Opening them again, taking another deep breath, Michael had no choice but to think.

Why would they bother with me? Even if the video does become some kind of a legal event, won’t they just try to pay me off or sweep it under the rug? I’m sure that that video will do no one any good.

Surely it’s no big deal that I understand them when intoxicated. Who cares? There must be people who can understand them without being in such a state.

He then thought of Linnet and how she’d been trying to teach him to understand Shil all while she’d been studying English. Man, she’s a godsend. I probably should try to figure out how to get it when I’m sober.

And I can get it when I am sober, if I apply myself enough.

I could probably do anything if I truly applied myself.

That’s it! I’m not applying myself! They’re after me because all of these circumstances overlap with me. I am the center of the Venn diagram of dissent against their rule in Jacksonville: unhappy humans, unhappy soldiers on the inside, access to people with money, video documentation of the abuse of their authority. Goddamn. No wonder Joph’rena has her sights trained on me.

If I actually wanted to, I could do a lot of damage to them.

And so, with a newfound sense of belief in himself, Michael settled into a restful night of sleep.