9. Crew
M y skin was on fire as I sped into the Romfuzzled parking lot. I went into Costco with no intentions of doing anything beyond getting some essentials and eating a load of cheap hot dogs and coming right back home.
But, just like with most of my plans, a Winnie shaped wrecking ball came gliding in and messed it all up.
“I would create an entree just for you and you would make a dessert for me.”
Her voice bounced around in my head, along with fifteen other things. How dare she even attempt to get us to work together? She looked cute. No, she didn’t. She ordered my hot dog, my freaking hot dog. Her hair was pulled back and her face was just right there, inches from mine. She got under my skin in every impossible way and she knew it too. Wicked temptress. She got on my nerves so bad I completely forgot to grab toilet paper- the reason I was there in the first place. This was what I meant, she had this way of making my brain go all topsy turvy and uncontrollable. It wasn’t fair, no woman should hold that kind of power over a man.
I quickly jumped out of my car and rushed to the side entrance of my brothers bar, opening the door that only our family and the employees used.
Sitting by the wooden bar top were Luke and Layla, her sitting on the counter and Luke staring up at her as she spoke. Okay, we get it. You’re in love. Everyone is so happy for you.
My sister in law looked up from brother. “Hey, Crew. I didn’t know you were coming, I brought some cooki-”
“Good. Great. Can’t wait.” I took my seat at the bar, thankful that it was still closed so I could avoid the loud music and lights that seemed to magically appear at eight pm on the dot.
I grabbed the porcelain plate holding a mountain of chocolate chip cookies and dragged it towards me, a scraping sound crawling through my fingertips and into my ear canals. My fingers reached out for a handful of the tiny delicacies and I shoved them in my mouth one my one, chewing angrily.
“Crew,” Layla hummed, obviously staring at my brother like I’d lost my mind. They always did that. Everyone looked at each other with this knowing look as if I wasn’t right there. Like just because I wasn’t exactly giving them all of my focus didn’t mean I didn’t have eyes.
“Are you okay, bud?” Luke asked.
Bud. I hated when they called me that. I was the youngest in a family of five. Bud, sport, kid, all of those implied that I was less than them, whether they meant it or not, I knew it.
“Perfect. Fantastic. Marvelous.” I chewed down on my third (fourth?) cookie. “I would like a drink. Possibly more than I need air. And I need air a lot too. I survive on that stuff.”
My brother nodded, tapped his hand on his wives thigh, and slid off his chair. Reaching the bar, he pulled out a clean pint glass and sat it down on the counter. “What sounds good? On me this time. We’ve got a local IPA that’s really-”
“What gets me feeling the best the fastest?”
“Umm…well, the heavier liquor-”
“Heavy sounds great.”
Luke’s eyes widened a bit but he put the pint down and grabbed a shot glass instead.
I didn’t love to get drunk- mostly because the sounds around me were always amplified and I usually said things I didn’t mean- although I kind of did, I just didn’t want everyone knowing it. And I hated the way it made my stomach feel like a giant rock is just chilling around in there.
But today called for one. Because ever since I signed up for this stupid competition that was supposed to save me, I had been haunted by desserts. Literally, last night I had a dream that the burned creme brulee from moms house came to life, broke into my house, and burned everything I had to the ground in a revengeful triumph. Even during the day I wasn’t safe from the thoughts of constantly wondering what’s wrong with me, why can something so outwardly simple become so impossibly difficult for me? A rhetorical question, really. I knew exactly why.
“Are you sure you’re all good?” Luke leaned in to me, where Layla couldn’t hear us as she typed away on her laptop a few seats down.
I nodded and grabbed my tiny clear shot from him. Not big enough. I smelled it, cringed, and downed the shot in one swallow. My tongue shriveled up inside my mouth but I forced my face to take a somewhat normal expression. It didn’t work, my lips were puckered and my eyebrows were inching closer together.
Why did he give me something so heavy? This asshole.
“Do you want to talk about anything?” He asked.
I opened my mouth and wondered just how much this tiny clear liquid was going to extract from my brain. Yes, I wanted to shout. I want to talk about how everyone treats me like a delicate little butterfly. When, at my very worst, I was at least a month.
And I have this giant freaking weight on my shoulders telling me I’m lazy or doing everything wrong and even if I know deep down that’s not true, it doesn’t take the weight off. And if I so happen to let it slip out than everyone will switch from me being a butterfly to me being…I don’t know, something more delicate than a butterfly. That’s for sure.
Plus, I signed up for this ridiculous competition to impress my family only to find out wait a minute, you actually aren’t good enough. Not on your own. Oh, and your socks don’t match because every time you buy a new set and wash them half of them get sucked down some magical sock tube into the world’s unknown so one of your feet is just plain black and the other is red with tiny tacos on them. And another thing-
“Crew?” Luke tapped his knuckle onto the bar top. “Your mind looks…busy.”
“It’s like an interstate going on in here. And I can’t find the exit.”
“Do you think you’re stressed because of work?” He asked and I actually guffawed- loud enough to make Layla physically jump in her seat.
I was most definitely stressed because of work. And life. And a certain red head who won’t leave my freaking brain alone.
“Maybe.”
My chest was starting to get that fuzzy warm feeling that I did enjoy when I had a couple drinks. “Hey, can I get two more of those not-waters?”
“Not…waters?” His head tilted to the side, but then straightened up when I pointed to my tiny shot glass. “Oh, the rum. Yeah, I’ll grab one that’s easier on your stomach.”
“Not easier, I don’t need easy.”
His movements, grabbing a bottle of basic Malibu, paused entirely. “Are you sure?”
“Very sure. I am a big boy, I can handle myself just fine.” My tone was turning short, defensive in a snap, and I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to.
Luke shrugged one shoulder. “You’re right, my bad.” But he didn’t look like it was his bad. He looked like a toddler just said they’re old enough for aftershave and the parent says ‘oh, yes you are’ and gives them a bottle of just plain water in hopes they’ll settle down.
Regardless, Luke poured me one more shot. I downed it. And he poured another. With the third one the burn was a lot lighter and the fuzziness was a lot…fuzzier. Like my insides were turning into a comfy velvet couch at an attorney’s office.
BANG. A loud noise came from behind the swinging doors that led into the back of the bar where all the kegs and other bar business type things sat.
I looked down at my empty shot glass. Man, this stuff worked fast. I was already hearing things.
“What the hell was that?” Luke mumbled and set down the rag he was using to wipe the tiny fridge holding the few non-alcoholic canned beverages.
Wow. This rum worked good enough for the both of us. So strong that Luke could hear the same noises I was hearing.
I pulled my chin back, eyeing my brother as he watched the door with caution. Luuukeeee. I called out in my head. If you can hear this, clap twice, and do a spin.
My brother ignored my instructions and walked towards the swinging doors, pushing them open and peering around the corner to check for whatever the loud bang I conjured up came from. I didn’t have an answer yet, you know, trouble just seemed to follow me everywhere I went.
Luke yelled behind the door, “God! My eyes!”
I shot up from my chair, knocking the bar stool over, and attempted to do a jump over the bar. But I severely overestimated the height of it, so I did kind of sad sloth-like roll over before landing on two feet on the opposite end. My feet took off without permission, rushing to my brothers aid, right as he came barreling back behind the bar with two hands covering his eyes.
“Layla, baby, where are you?”
“Oh my gosh, what happened?” Layla stood up and went to the side door to access the other side of the bars counter- which, in hind sight, was much faster than my jump attempt.
“Ask them, seriously, you have to bleach my eyes out.” He pushed his palms further into his eye sockets.
“Who’s them?” I asked, noticing my two words sounded more like one long word. Whooosssthheeemmm? My brain was slowing down. That’s nice.
Just then, Calla and her husband, Nathan, popped through the swinging door with his shirt unbuttoned and her dress on inside out and backwards.
Nathans cheeks were bright red, but Calla looked at all of us like we were at fault for catching their obvious debauchery.
“What?” She hissed. “We work a lot, we have to find time somehow?”
“In my bar?” Luke shouted. “Where I work?” He gagged a little, and seeing it made me want to gag too. Funny how reflexes work that way. “With my best friend?”
Calla held up a defensive hand. “He’s my husband.”
“Well, he was mine first.” Luke countered.
Layla’s throat cleared. “You did sign him away when they went and eloped.”
“I signed him away for them to get married, not to have sex against my kegs. I can’t unsee that.”
“For what it’s worth,” Calla huffed. “I’m not sorry.”
“Clearly!” Luke yelled back.
They were all smashing together in one big blurry mess.
“Is Crew okay?” Nathan, I think, asked.
“He’s…Crew.” Luke waved a hand. “We’re talking about you two right now, getting it on in my bar. What the absolute-”
“In my defense,” Nathan spoke up again. I think. “She said no one would be here.” He pointed to our sister accusingly.
“The cars parked outside didn’t give you an idea?” Layla whispered, not adding any help to the situation.
“I think I want another drink.” I mumbled as the four of them argued.
I turned right around and saw a nice pretty bottle of other clear liquids. I liked clear liquids. Not the water kind, though. I scooped up the bottle and poured a healthy dose into a pint. I measured, with the beating muscle in my chest, and eyed the amount waiting for me. Enough where I’ll need a ride home, but also enough to drown out all the noises and the worry.
I moved the bottle back, having no clue where the lid is, and took a sip. Then gagged. This one tasted different. Smelled different too. Like…I was getting my teeth cleaned or something sterile like that. My inside turned more into a velvet couch, this one much heavier. Why did I grab that one?
I turned to yell at Luke to take better watch of myself, but they were still arguing. Layla turned to me with concern in her eyes. I think it was concern…or sadness. Don’t be sad, Layla. I told her through my magic brain waves. I’m just a little broken, I’ll be alright. Heavy drink makes it better.
It must have worked because she stepped away from her husband’s side, crouching down next to me. Am I on the floor? I was. I chuckled a little, this tile is cold on my legs.
“Crew, are you sure everything is okay?” She asked gently, like a mom would.
“Perrrfect.” I nodded. Too fast. Too blurry. “I won’t let her get to me, Layla. I promise.”
Her head cocked to the side and she took my glass out of my hands-hey, that’s my glass.
“Who?” She asked.
“Who what?”
“Who will you not let get to you?” She asked again. Deja vu. Ha. That’s a funny word. DEJJJAAA VOOOO. “Crew?”
“Her.” I pointed to the door, where I knew no one was but that was the last direction that she was in so yeah. There. “That little beautiful witch. She’s so beautiful, Lay. If she wasn’t so awful…I’d keep her.”
“You mean that red haired girl, right? The one you complained about before?”
I put a finger on my nose. “Yes!” Layla was so nice, she understood. More than most did. Mom tried. I think they both did. But Layla knew my brain a little better, a calm in a raging storm. She was a good sister in law like that. “You get me.”
“I understand, I think. You like her?” She asked.
I let out a monstrous groan. “No, Layla. You don’t get me.”
“But you just said-”
“No, I didn’t. I take it back. I don’t like the girl. She’s an evil menace. She just wants me to like her.”
“Ohhh, okay?”
“See, if we do this whole partnership-” that felt like a long word, “then she gets exactly what she wants, I get what I want.”
“Oh, well that’s good, right?”
“NO!” I shouted, my hands raising up and pulling at my hair. “No, Layla. No good. Because that’s what she wants me to think. That if we do this, then we’ll be happy and done. But deep down, I know she’s going to take my heart.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Cause she’s done it before.” My shoulders fell.
History repeats itself. I learned my lesson, falling for a girl in a single instance and finally thinking I may have had a breakthrough in my bad dating experiences only to find out- whoops, not only is she not single…she’s engaged. Engaged to a blonde man in a cowboy hat. She said she liked city boys. I don’t even own a cowboy hat. I should order one. When was prime day again?
“I think maybe you’re thinking the worst of things right now since you’re drinking. What if…whatever it is really works out for you two?”
“Then…” I considered, waiting for my brain to come up with an answer. “I don’t know.”
“Then maybe give it a go? And you can have a backup plan in case whatever it is does go bad like you think?” She reached a hand out, pinching my chin. “Who can hate this face, huh? You’re like a puppy.”
Puppy, man child, all the same to them.
“I’m twenty six.” I sniffed. “Not a puppy.”
“A twenty six year old puppy,” she snickered. “seriously, though. I think you ought to go into this with the right head and you’ll come out on top.”
The right head. Backup plan. Yes.
I nodded feverishly. “You’re right, Lay. I just need to come up with an idea on how to get her back and-”
“No, no. That is not what I said.”
“Ooohh,” I caught on, winking extra big at her. “I hear ya.” My fingers lifted in air quotes. “Not. what. you. said. Suureee. I understand.”
“I really, really don’t think you do. But whatever it is, when you’re upset don’t go straight to drinking. Talk to us. We’re your family, we love you.”
I sniffed a little. Yeah, they loved me. Loved me the way a family would their pet gerbil. Or maybe a star they bought in honor of their parent anniversary or something. The kind that’s easily forgettable but then when you’re reminded you’re like ‘oh, yeah, love that guy.’ The kind of love that doesn’t hold permanence. Permmmaaaaneeence. I like that word.
I reached for my phone in my back pocket and swung it in the air. “You’re the best sis in law, Layla. I should have asked you to put on the wig.”
“Oh…um, thank you, Crew.”
“Welcome.” I nodded and stayed in my seated position on the floor as the rest of my family was on the other end of the bar. Layla stood, gave them a thumbs up, and walked away, leaving me there alone.
I looked down at my phone and made a quick decision. Winnifred thinks she’s the only temptress? I can do it too. I can do it better.
Pulling up the contact that I debated a hundred times on deleting, but now was thankful I never did, I texted her.
Me: Les do it
It only took a minute of me staring blankly at the screen for a response to come back.
Winnie: I usually ask for names and what not before I agree to do ‘it’ with someone.
Me: It crew. Do the thing with me. Make me dessert.
Winnie: Your texting skills are just as poor as your manners.
Me: Too much drink. Make me dessert. I make you food.
Winnie: This has to be the most interesting caveman communication I have ever heard.
Me: Yes or no
Winnie: Well considering it was my idea first then I’ll have to say yes.
Me: C u tomm.
Winnie: I cannot wait for you to read these in the morning.