A second burp. His eyes were growing a little wild.
“Trust me. You and Kash, this is just a small hiccup.” He picked up his empty glass and held it toward me. “The makeup sex will be off the charts, so can you please wallow with your brother, because I’m the one who should be wallowing here, not you.”
Yes. Matt.
He wanted to wallow, so we would wallow.
But, holy crap.
Kash had a brother.
I picked up my drink. “You’re right. Here’s to wallowing.”
“Drink up, Bailey.” He raised his arm for a fourth whiskey, which the bartender saw, and nodded. And the same server sashayed up moments later for Matt, and turned, swinging herhips slow and seductively on the way back down. Matt was watching, but I didn’t think he was really seeing her. He held his glass out for me, and knowing what he wanted, I clinked it with my own.
He said, almost sullenly, “I figure you and me, we’re due a night. You’re going to pretend you’re upset about Kash, even though we both know he’ll be back and you’ll both be fine. And me…” He burped again. “I’m going to indulge and let my wild paranoia run free, because come dawn, I’ll rein it in. You and me. Team Batt needs to step up to home base. Kash has a lot on his plate. We’ll help out. It’s up to us to take Quinn down.”
He looked up.
So did I. And as if taunting us, the news was reporting on Quinn’s trial. Footage of her walking into the court was showing on a loop.
Matt extended a fist to me. “Team Batt.”
I met it with my own fist, and we pretended to blow it up.
“Mantle.”
“Mantle.”
TWENTY-ONE
Bailey
SixA.M.and Matt and I were struggling to even walk.
There were shots, more drinking. Dancing. Yelling. Chanting. We might’ve coordinated a cheer even, complete with starting a flash mob with strangers. Matt has a favorite hot dog place he likes to stop at after drinking.
All in all, the night was epic.
Walking through the Chesapeake hallways as Matt veered off into the kitchen and I headed for my room with Kash, I already knew this was a hangover day. I wanted to collapse in bed and never move. There might be Disney movies to watch later on, but still from bed. Or in the house theater, but in my pajamas. I wanted to embrace the theme for the day.
“Bailey.”
Aw, crap.
I faltered, first hearing Peter and then hearing what could only be described as… a father’s dismay? My heart soared for a split second because (a) Peter was acting like a dad to me and (b) I had forgotten how much I missed that “parenting” effect until Chrissy was gone. But that was quickly pushed out to make room for embarrassment, a good amount of shame, and nausea.
The nausea was winning out.
He was coming down a hallway, fully dressed to start his day. A newspaper in one hand, a steaming mug in his other. And he was looking me up and down. There was no real expression on his face, but his eyes and mouth were both flat.
He stopped in front of me and wrinkled his nose before raising his mug and taking a sip. “You reek of Matt.”
I paused. “That’s an odd cologne.”
“And you speak Matt, too. What an unpleasant surprise.”
I felt that one like a punch to my sternum.