Chapter 6
Chapter Six
INTERVENTION!
E xisting hurt. Fortunately for Jack, the pain was only physical. His excruciating and ceaseless headache provided no downtime to dwell on any emotional agony he’d suffered with Ensley or any of the other women. Plus, blacking out helped. Jack’s brain had only enough storage space to save three snapshots from the night before. The first was a blurry image of looking down on the bodybuilder as she appeared to be bench-pressing him with relative ease. The second and third were much less jovial: a faceless woman sobbing into her hands and an up-close portrait of a somewhat sweaty Mick scolding him. However, Jack felt no guilt without the context and story behind each image.
He had been half awake for over an hour but still hadn’t opened his eyes. And who could blame him? Light was the last thing his head needed. Jack lacked the ingredients to concoct his blue Powerade remedy without being home, so his only option was to sleep off the hangover. He tossed, turned, repositioned, removed the covers, and then put them on again, but nothing helped. In boiled-over frustration, Jack finally conceded and opened his eyes as if to welcome in his own destruction, but when he did, he found a clear glass filled with blue liquid waiting on the nightstand next to his bed. Next to it were two extra-strength Tylenol.
“Oh, Mick,” Jack rasped aloud to himself. “You do care.”
“Mick had nothing to do with it, mate.”
Startled, Jack shot up in bed - triggering the next wave of torturous ache.
“Ah! Thomas! What are you doing here?”
“I think you know. Mick called me last night - told me everything.”
“Listen, mate. Doing the show was kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision and…”
“How about this: you do the drinking,” Thomas said, gesturing towards the blue remedy, “and I’ll do the talking.”
Jack nodded, then began chugging before remembering it was best to sip.
“Jack, I’m not upset that you chose to do the show. I know my help hasn’t been…helping. And I’m sure spending more time with me probably just served as a reminder that we’re in different stages of life. So I get why you’re doing this.”
“So…you’re not upset?”
“Oh, I’m pissed! But not because of that.”
“At what then?”
“A lot of things, Jack! You not telling me. You acting all selfish and jeopardizing Mick’s show with the whole balloon fiasco. You jeopardizing it again by getting blitzed on the very first night. Jack, I’m worried you’re an alcoholic, mate!”
“I’m no alcoholic.”
Just as Jack responded, the bedroom door opened. In walked Mick.
“Did I…” he said as he shut the door behind him, “...miss the intervention?”
“What?! Mates! I’m no alcoholic!”
“I’m not so sure, Jack,” Thomas said.
“Why? Because I got mashed one time in the last two months? Really?!”
“Jack, every time I see you, you’re mashed,” Mick said before appearing to stop himself and revert back to his preplanned script. “But Jack, listen: we love you, we believe in you, and we’re worried about you.”
“I appreciate it, but you’ve both got it all wrong. I know I have an unhealthy relationship with booze, but it ain’t one of addiction.”
“What do you mean?” Thomas asked.
“I mean ninety-nine percent of the time, if I’m drinking, it’s to help…I don’t know…help with women, I guess.”
“But that’s all the time, Jack.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah! Jack, I know the game. I played it with you for over a decade. You’re a womanizer who just admitted you need alcohol around women! When are you not drinking then, mate?”
Jack mustered a saddened scoff and shook his head.
“I’m not wrong, Jack.”
“Thomas, you really think you know me?”
“Of course.”
Jack continued shaking his head as he practically whispered, “Thomas, you haven’t known me in years.”
Thomas was clearly hurt by Jack’s genuine tone but was somehow able to get out, “Is that right?”
“Well, why don’t we just ask Mick? Hey Mick, how many women did I invite to our VIP room at the Luxx a couple months ago?”
“Well…none, I suppose.”
“None?” Thomas asked with a skeptical tone.
“Yes,” Mick responded. “He even had two kicked out, so it was just he and I.”
“You…you had a guy’s night out with just the guys?” Thomas asked as if he’d been stabbed in the back. “You’ve never done that with me.”
“But you did come home with three women,” Mick added.
“Mick, it was the first time in over two years.”
“That you brought three women home?”
“No. Since…”
“More than one?”
“...”
“Since… gasp …you brought anybody home?”
“Yes! Alright?! And…the girls I brought home with Mick…nothing happened with them either.”
“Two years?” Thomas asked as if he were starting to believe.
Jack nodded, then quietly said, “Yes, and during that time, I didn’t touch a drop. And if you don’t believe me, ask Mick. Mick, how many shots did I have that night?”
“The same as me…seven…maybe eight. I honestly can’t remember.”
“You’re serious?” Thomas asked. “I’ve never seen Jack leave a club or pub with less than twelve shots in him. You’ve lost your tolerance, mate?”
“But,” Mick interjected. “Why did you drink if you weren’t planning on bringing home any women?”
“I don’t know…to keep up the act…my reputation? It’s emasculating to admit I’m getting too old for that life…that I hate that life…that I spend most of my time taking walks around the city, only to be in bed alone by nine.”
“But Jack,” Thomas said, “that all sounds great!”
“Parts of it… but it’s also lonely.”
Thomas paused and nodded as if to honor and validate his best friend’s feelings, then said, “I know. But I am proud of you.”
“Me too,” Mick said.
“Well,” Jack continued, “be proud all you want, but none of that matters now. The old lifestyle didn’t work for me. This new lifestyle’s not working. Thomas, your plan failed. Mick, yours too.”
“Who says Mick’s plan failed?” Thomas asked.
“Come on, Thomas. The damage is done. Mick’s got to kick me off the show. I deserve it. I don’t remember much, but I do remember making one of the women cry and throwing up in my own lap in front of Ensley. That’s not quite the equation for a main character people want to tune in and see each week.”
Thomas looked over at Mick as if to wait for his response.
After letting out a deep sigh, Mick said, “Alright, Jack. Let me tell you where we’re at with the show. We did lose two of the three women you speed-dated with before we shut it down and told the others you weren’t feeling well. It sounds like you remember Ensley.”
“So she’s gone?” Jack asked.
Mick nodded, then said, “And Diana…”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Jack said with his grateful face lifted heavenward.
“Jack.”
“Sorry.”
“And Diana left after you relentlessly interrogated her about her stomach issues. You actually did very well with Mackenzie.”
“Mackenzie?” Jack asked.
“The bodybuilder.”
“Great,” Jack responded sarcastically.
“So we are down two women without having a single elimination ceremony, and that’s a huge problem. We might be able to get away with one week where we give the surprise announcement that no one will be going home, but it’s terrible television to do that in two of ten episodes - especially when one of the episodes we’d planned was a cliffhanger that ends right when I announce one of them will be going home on the very first night.”
“So…what are you saying?” Jack asked.
“I’m saying we need to find two more suitresses - or at the very least, one - and fast.”
“Alright, but even if we did, wouldn’t there be some sort of social contagion with the other girls? I mean, when Ensley came upstairs gagging or when Diana came up crying, didn’t…”
“We pulled both of them aside before word ever got back to the other women. For all they know, you sent Ensley and Diana home. But there’s also the issue of funding. We’re behind a day. Now, I’ve put everything I had left into this production and even had to take on a sponsor to offset…”
“How much?” Jack asked.
“How much? You mean for the extra day of filming?”
“No, I mean for everything? Would five cover it?”
“Five? What, five million?!”
“No? Six then?”
“That’s way too much.”
“It’s really not. Do you take Venmo?”
Mick’s huge-eyed expression stayed fastened upon Jack as he robotically pulled his phone from his pocket and let Jack scan his Venmo QR code.
“What?! There’s a sixty-thousand-dollar daily limit?! What a scam! Would sixty-thousand be enough to hold you over until I can get the rest to you via bank transfer?”
Mick nodded, looking like the tinman needing some oil.
“So I’m still your guy?” Jack asked.
Mick nodded again.
“Great. One problem down. Now, we just need to find at least one other contestant.”
“Actually,” Thomas said, “I may be able to help on that front…”