Chapter 29 #2
How did you mean it, Pi? Why did you say that? I scream inside my head. “Let’s get you propped up, then, so you won’t choke to death.”
He whines as I pull him to his knees, and as though on cue, he vomits. I stand beside him and rub his back and play his words over and over again.
“That is a fucking lot of spew,” he says, lifting the bottom of his grubby shirt to wipe the sweat and spittle from his face. He tries to push to his feet, but I know better than that and wait for the second wave of vomming to subside before I let him stand.
“Feel better?” I say.
“Yeah, wanna dance?” Pi’s smiling, but he looks a fucking mess. He’s covered in dirt, and grime, and his shirt and jacket bear tiny holes and snags from the rose thorns. His hair is sticking out at random angles, and he stinks of booze and barf.
“Sir, we are going to get you some water, and then I’m going to drive you home.”
“Okay.”
Pi throws up another two times on the way back to the marquee, and I feel as though surely there can’t be anything left inside him. I nip into the tent to grab him a bottle of water.
Gadget’s there, watching Owen dance with his daughter. His eyes flit down to my muddy knees, and he cocks an eyebrow at me.
“It’s not what it looks like, pard.”
“Not my place to say anything,” he simply says.
He leans over the soft drinks counter, grabs a palm-size plastic bag, and hands it to me.
It has a sticker on the front that reads, “Hangover Kit.” Inside there are rehydration pouches, a little pack of wet wipes, a self-cooling forehead patch, and a packet of mints.
“Thanks for coming.” He smiles at me. “See you both on Monday.”
“Thank you,” I say, grabbing an extra water.
“For what it’s worth, I think you two make a great team.”
My insides flop about like a fish on the deck of a boat.
But I have little time to mull over what he means by “great team.” Out of nowhere Dan rocks up and drapes an arm over Gadget’s shoulder.
He stares at me wide-eyed, but a second later his eyes are rolling up and he’s taking two, three, four steps backwards, then he’s on his ass in the middle of the marquee.
Snatch looks over from the dance floor and points to Dan. “She fell over!” he sings.
Gadget helps Dan to his feet and props him up like a puppet.
“He’s the one, he is. He’s . . . is this one right ’ere.
” Dan’s slurring his words and closing and opening his eyes at separate times.
Jesus, he’s more cooked than Pi. Must be some hella strong fizz they’re serving here.
He rubs his hand on Gadget’s belly as though he’s stroking an enormous dog.
“Isn’t he the one?” I think he’s talking to me, but I have no idea.
“Yeah, he’s some bleddy boy,” I reply.
“Mate, you got it by the way. You got the captain’s bob.
The caplims lob. The lob? The job! You’re the new .
. .” Dan makes an unidentifiable sound, and laughs like he’s at the Edinburgh Fringe.
“You’re he. The new me!” He’s shouting now, and party goers are turning to look. Nobody’s dancing right now.
“You mean, Gadget’s the new captain?” Snatch asks. Snatch is an experienced merrymaker. A raver from way back in the day. He’s old school, and hardcore, and compared with Dan and Pi—fuck, where did Pi come from—he looks like a wizened sage.
“’Sackly,” Dan says. He looks at Gadget, but he’s too far gone to notice the panic behind the fly-half’s eyes.
“Uhh—” Gadget begins, looking at Owen and beckoning him over for help, but Dan interrupts.
“Not gonna lie, bud, you’re our only hope. Cents’d be nuffin’ without you.”
I mean, he’s not wrong. Still, Snatch and I share amused yet insulted glances.
“Johan said it’s you or nobody. It’s in the bag. These fuckers didn’t even stand a chance.” Dan idly waves a finger between Snatch and Pi and me. “So congrat—” He hiccups, then belches. “Ulations.”
Snatch frowns at me so hard there’s no longer any visible skin between his thick black brows.
We all look at Gadget for some kind of response, but what follows is nothing but pure unadulterated awkward-as-fuck silence. It stretches on and on. I can’t think of anything to say to fill it, and Snatch is mouthing, “What the hell?” to me.
Pi stumbles forward. “Abs is gonna be piiiiiiiissed.” He laughs. “Wait, where is Abs?”
Shit, Abs! I’d totally forgotten about him. We were supposed to give him a lift back to Bath. I pull my phone out and ring him twice, but he doesn’t pick up. I fire off a couple of messages and extend him a ten-minute window to make his presence known or I’m leaving without him.
“We’ll go look for him,” Gadget says. It’s an obvious attempt to extract himself from the conversation and I don’t blame him. “If you’ve left before we find him, he can bunk at our place tonight. It’s just down the lane.”
“Thank you,” I reply.
“Lando’s missing too, and I have a feeling they’ve slunk off together. I’ll check the manor house,” Owen says, drawing up next to Gadget.
“He hates Orlando, though. He literally did nothing but bitch about the fucker all the way from Bath to the ceremony and then from the ceremony to here,” I reply.
Gadget shrugs. “Love makes you say stupid things sometimes. And Harry Ellis is a glutton for punishment.”
I watch Mathias and Owen disappear into the night, my head swimming from the onslaught of new information.
We don’t locate Abs, but Pi doesn’t seem too bothered that his BFF is missing, so we make our way home. I’m convinced all the upchuck inside Pi has been upped and chucked, but nevertheless, I drive with the windows rolled right down to the rubber.
“If you’re gonna barf again, make sure your head is outside the car.” At least I can hose down the bodywork.
Either he doesn’t hear me, or he’s forgotten, and as I pull onto his drive thirty minutes later, he purges his stomach once more, this time all over his lap.
We both groan. I jump out of the car, run around to his side, and try to pull him out before that sweet, acidic stench soaks into the leather.
Miraculously, it misses the seats altogether, and it’s only clear liquid from the bottle of water he’s just downed, but it’s all pooled in the foot mat and has seeped through the seat belt.
“I’m sorry. Your new car. I’m sorry,” he says as I guide him towards his house.
Trekkie only wants to say hello to Pi, which is understandable, but Pi’s even too drunk for that.
“I’m gonna sleep here.” He collapses face down in the hallway, and Trekkie runs out the front door.
I dash out and shut the gate before the dog escapes down the street, but by the time I’ve done that, he’s already finished his business and is galloping inside to dig his snout into the back of his owner’s hair.
“Shall we get you into bed?” I close the door behind me and kneel beside him again. I seem to be doing a lot of kneeling today.
“I need snacks.” Pi pushes himself up, and his eyes fall to mine. A second later, a wide smile blossoms over his face. “Okay, bedtime.”
It takes me a few more minutes to coax him up the stairs. I help him peel off his clothes, then I find a bucket in a kitchen cupboard and wedge it beside his nightstand.
“Princess, I’m going to stay here tonight. Is that okay?” I don’t want to leave him in case he’s sick again.
“Mmm kay,” he replies.
I strip off my suit, find a phone charger, and climb into bed, and I let my eyes wander around the room.
He’d removed all his Star Trek toys a while ago when he was dating Georgia, and I hate that he felt it necessary to hide who he was from her.
That he had to mask. If she doesn’t like the Seven of Nine figurines, then she shouldn’t be fucking with my friend.
Pi rolls from his side onto his back.
“No, sir, get on your side.” I force him to resume the previous position. “Do I need to big spoon you?”
“Yes,” he replies.
“Okay, fine. Let me just see if Abs has replied to my text.”
I lean across him, switch his lamp off, and grab my phone. There’s no message from Harry, but there are a few from Megan.
Good evening, you naughty, naughty boy. George’s drunk. She told me EVERYTHING.
E V E R Y T H I N G !!!!!?????!!!!!
So what do you want to do about us?
Your move.