Couch Days Part 2 By J.D. Lazerine Story by J.D. Lazerine & Riley Johnson
“calm down, sweetheart, grow up” -Mac DeMarco
For God, Dad, Mom, Aaron, Kenzi, Riley, Jack, Maddie, Alec, Samantha, Michael, & Steven
June 24th, 2015 Mansard Point, MAINE
Chapter 16
“Four bucks.” Josh set a T & T in front of me. I took a sip and it was bitter. “Start a tab.” Josh simply nodded before tending to the handful of people seated around the bar. I tried a few more sips of my drink but it stayed more bitter than usual. The gray-tinged skies draped across the skyline didn’t help. “You’re dressed up.” Josh hovered near me again, polishing off a rail glass and staring lazily out at the nearly empty dining room. “Mom’s funeral was today,” I said, finishing my drink. “That’s right. Sorry Kiel.” Josh fetched me a refill. “Nobody likes to come around when the skies are like this, ya know?” “What does that say about me?” “It was your mom’s funeral.” “I didn’t cry.” “Well were you sad?” “Of course.” “Not everybody cries when they’re sad.” “Interesting.” “Yeah. I’m sorry though.” “It’s fine. I’m back from bereavement in a couple days.” “Good. We’re kind of strapped for help right now.”
“Yeah, sorry. When is Ace’s suspension up?” “I assume when he stops spending every other night in the drunk tank.” “I need another drink if we’re gonna talk about this.” “You should go get some sleep.” “It’s only seven.” “You shouldn’t be here.” “Can’t argue that,” I said. “How’s about a shot of Black Label?” Josh poured it. I put it back easily. My throat was numb. “What do I owe ya?” “Get out of here.” “Thanks Josh.” “Sleep, Kiel.” “I’ll try.” I gave him a nod and left the Lounge.
~ When I walked in the door my ears were met with an intoxicating guitar groove and booming drums, pouring out of the stereo speaker as steam clouded up the house They were in the kitchen, digging into some sort of dish freshly removed from the oven. A joint burned, seated in an ashtray on the island. “Kiel, just time time for some lasagna.” Aubrey’s eyes were crimson yet beaming. “Thanks, but I’m good I think.”
“You have to eat.” “I had dinner.” “Gin doesn’t count,” said Aubrey. Andy broke into laughter. He was stoned as all hell too. I tossed my jacket aside and reclined on the couch. “Finally hit puberty and discovered weed, huh?” “Have some lasagna Kiel,” he said. “I’m fine.” Aubry set a plate in front of me, covered in gooey lasagna that actually looked pretty damn good. She passed me the joint. “It was a long day for you.” I took a drag and suddenly the lasagna was my top priority. I dug in. “Thanks for the lasagna. And thanks for coming today. Both of you/” They sat on the couch with plates of their own. “It was the least I could do,” said Andy. “You’ve been putting up with me real well, ya know?” “Have barely noticed,” I said. Then Tommy and Donnie ushered themselves in. Tommy was wearing a new coat. It was a peacoat and it accented his shoulders rather well and gave him a proper look I wasn’t use to seeing. He sat sodas on the table, one for each of us, and grabbed a seat on a stool around the island. Tommy slid right into the rotation of the joint and the lasagna. “The lasagna smells fricking excellent.”
“Six cheeses,” said Aubrey. “That’s a quality amount of cheeses,” said Tommy. Andy’s plate was clean already. His ability to inhale food at such a barbaric pace without being seen like a, well, barbarian, was a thing of wonder. “Still not enough cheeses,” he said. The room got a laugh out of that one. Even Donnie, who was looking into his beer as if there was nothing else in the world. I think he took my mother’s funeral real hard because he’s been there too. It wasn’t easy for Tommy either, but he was awfully better at hiding it. After dinner Tommy poured himself some Scotch he had brought. It was nice Scotch. His peacoat was still on. “Here’s to Kiel.” The room obliged. “Well I guess if Ace can’t be here to do that type of thing,” I said. “He better be at home,” said Tommy. “I think he actually went to see his dad today straight from the funeral.” “About the case?” “I assume so.” “Dammit anyway.” Tommy sighed. “Yeah,” I said. The flick of a lighter snapped me back into reality. Aubrey had another joint to pass around. “How About we go get some shakes after this?” Andy kissed her on the cheek at that. “Spires?” She kissed him back. “”Spires.” “A shake does sound good,” said Tommy. “Doesn’t it, Donnie?”
“Sure,” said Donnie. He was still staring into his beer. “Perk up now, Donnie.” “No.” “Donnie.” “No/” “Well dammit anyway.” We gathered around to pull on our coats and get ready to walk up to Spires. I saw the envelope for rent, due in a couple days. “Did James throw his cash in?” “No,” said Andy. He dug into his wallet and pulled out three hundred bucks and set in the envelope. “You don't have to,” I said. “Yeah I do.” There was a knock on the door. It was Coop. He looked real troubled.
~ “Can I get a drink, please,” said Ace, mustering his first coherent sentence since we had discovered him in a cell of the Mansard Point Police Department’s drunk tank. “Wow,” I said. “Yep,” said Officer Ramirez. “We didn’t whitewash it. It’s not okay.” “Quite frankly, even rail whiskey at this point is, it’s, well, it’s okay,” said Ace. He was trying to sit up and his milky, bloodshot eyes stared off in different directions.
“We’re, um, n-not in a bar,” said Andy. “I’d even settle for rail goddamn vodka. But not rail scotch. Or gin,” slurred Ace. “You can’t have those rail. You. Just. Can’t. Can-not.” “Jackson,” said Coop. No reply. “Jackson.” “What?” “You were out of jail for three days.” “Cause there’s not enough liquor in this town,” Ace slurred. Coop turned to Officer Ramirez. “Did you B.A.C him?” “Yep,” said Ramirez. “Point-one-nine” “Over twice the legal damn limit,” said Coop. Ramirez had Ace’s driver’s license in his hand. He squinted at the information. “He’s six-two, one-ninety-five. He shouldn’t be able to make sentences right now.” “I can make enough sentences to fill up a book officer,” said Ace. His voice was no longer as dopey; more so subdued. “I can make plenty of sentences. I just need one thing.” Coop addressed Ramirez. “What’s bail here?” “No bail,” said Ramirez. “Public intoxication isn’t serious. Just a night to sober up.” “I’d like to get a little more liquored up before I get sobered up, officer,” said Ace. “Jackson,” said Coop. That shut him up. “Well, I sincerely apologize for the trouble,” said Coop. “Between last week and this.”
“Hoffman isn’t pressing charges,” said Ramirez. “Jackson here gave him a shiner, but between the getting tazed, the weekend spent in the slammer, I think he thought that justice was served.” “Thank God,” said Coop. “Hoffman. Is he the golfer?” Ramirez chuckled. “Define golfer.” “One who golfs.” “Then I guess so.” We watched as Coop and Ramirez turned a gaze to Ace as he faded in and out of consciousness. “So, as was last week,” said Coop. “Any chance we can keep this from getting to his old man?” “Won’t say a word. Kid might need a lawyer though, and his dad’s a good one.” “Jordan’s parents are suing,” said Coop. “I heard.” “Yeah,” said Ramirez. “Too bad.” “He’s a good kid,” said Coop, his eyes lowering a bit as Ace sprawled out and starting snoring. “Just a little lost.” “Well, he can be found here tomorrow morning,” said Ramirez. “Perfect. Thanks, officer,” said Coop. With that, Coop led us out to the courtyard of the Police Department. We set off for the half-mile walk back. No one spoke.