Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Then we should have another before the bar gets crowded,” I said, waving my empty glass in the air.
“You okay? Weddings are supposed to be happy occasions and you’ve seemed kinda miserable today.”
Miserable? Am I?
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Guess I just realized I’ll never have what Kip has. I’ve never really wanted it before, but today…”
“You’re twenty-nine years old. You have plenty of time to settle down.”
“But do I want to settle down?”
“If you don’t then what’s this conversation about?”
“Like I said, I don’t know. You don’t understand because you’re still a baby.”
“I’m only two years younger than you.”
“Things just feel different since the band split. Touring, getting laid, making music…it filled up my days perfectly. I didn’t have time to want anything else. But now? Now there’s just nothing. The rest of the guys have all found someone. They’re pursuing new paths. I need to do something, Alex. Give myself a purpose again.”
“Then we will.”
We?
“When we get back home I’ll help you. We can brainstorm. Find something you’re passionate about and pursue it.”
“Never really been passionate about anything except drums and women.”
“Then we’ll find you a new passion.”
“What’s this ‘we’ business?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Hey, I’m not trying to interfere or anything. We’re friends is all. Friends help each other.”
Unable to find any words that didn’t sound sappy as shit, I chose to bump fists with Alex instead. Smiling, he brought his beer to his mouth but got distracted by whoever had just come up behind me.
“Hey, Ry,” Alex said.
“Oh, hey. Where’s Mason?” I asked, standing from my stool to give him a one-armed hug.
“He’s the photographer, remember? Which means he needs to follow Elle around all day. They should all be here soon.”
I nodded. “Drink?”
“Sure. I’ll take a lemonade please, mate.”
Ryder was teetotal these days. He didn’t drink or even smoke cigarettes anymore. He learned in therapy that the pot and the alcohol were substitutes for heroin and quickly worked on giving them up. The smokes proved the hardest for him, so now he vaped instead. I had a go of it once and almost choked on my freakin’ lungs. But hey, it worked for him.
I remember the day he told me about everything he’d been through. The rape, the addiction, the shit with his asshole parents. The guy had more issues than Cosmo. Not knowing what to say, I mainly nodded through the conversation but Christ if my respect for him didn’t shoot up six billion percent. He’d been seeing a therapist for almost a year now. I didn’t know what they talked about, only that it completely changed him.
For quite a while after everything came out in the open he rarely smiled. He seemed nervous in my company, like he was too embarrassed to look me straight in the eye. But as the months passed, as he attended more therapy sessions, he opened up more and more. He was no longer all about the drink, the sex and the humor. In fact, I don’t think he ever was. He was just too afraid to be himself. Fuck knows why because the real him was pretty fucking amazing.
“So, what are we talking about?” Ryder asked, pulling up a stool and perching himself on the edge of it.
“Matt wants to find love,” Alex said, hiding his mocking smile behind his glass.
Ryder raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong? Not been laid in two days?”
“Says the man with the most sociable butthole of the century.”
“Hey, not anymore,” Ryder said, laughing. “But seriously, you okay?”
“Sure. I’m just bored I guess. But Dr. Phil here is going to help me find my way apparently.”
“Not if you keep talking like that, asshole. I was trying to be nice.”
Before I could give Alex my comeback, a steady stream of people started bustling into the function room. Music started playing soon after – some mushy boy band shit that Elle liked. Seeing everyone coming toward the bar, I ordered four beers – all for myself – and made my way over to a table in the corner, ready to drink my sorry ass into oblivion.
Picking up my spoon, I tapped it against my champagne glass to get everyone’s attention. We’d just finished a five-course meal and, according to the movies, this was when people started giving speeches. I hadn’t been asked to give one, but naturally that didn’t stop me. As one of the most important guests there, I saw it as my duty to impart my wisdom on the happy couple.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” I began, standing from my chair. Elle put her head in her hands and Kip looked at me like he wanted to kill me. Do they have no faith in me whatsoever? “Okay, I’ll keep this short because I know Kip is dying to get his new bride upstairs so he can bang her into next week.”