A Month To Live - Extras

The Night of Many Shots (4/4)

‘-ever will be will be! Que sara saraaaaaaaa!’

‘Stop,’ I groaned, clutching at my ears. ‘George please no more!’

‘You don’t like my voice, Raegan?’ he complained, frowning at me over the beer bottle he’d been using as a microphone. ‘I’ll have you know, when I serenaded Tara at her window, she let me in straight away!’

‘Yeah, probably so her neighbours wouldn’t call the cops,’ I grinned, dodging the bottle cap he flicked my way.

‘Bradley says you can play piano,’ George said as I scrambled up from my seat on the floor and threw myself into one of the armchairs. It took a lot of my energy and I couldn’t help but notice the room spinning around my head. ‘If you’re any good, we could go on tour!’

‘Not sure anyone would pay to listen to us,’ I snorted. ‘Although, you would do well at comedy nights.’

‘My jokes are not premeditated, Betty,’ George said, finishing his beer and depositing the bottle into the trash can. ‘They just come to me in the moment.’

‘Nothing about you is premeditated!’

‘Hey, I planned today out, didn’t I?’ he asked, offended.

‘I’ll give you that,’ I grinned, accepting the glass he pressed into my hand. ‘Water, really?’

‘We’ve been drinking alcohol for hours and it was a hot day,’ he pointed out. ‘I think your boyfriend would bury me alive if I let you collapse of dehydration, and that’s really not how I want to go, you know. Once you’ve drank that, it’s time for El Diablo and company.’

‘Thanks, mom,’ I laughed, sipping at the water gratefully.

It didn’t take me long to finish the glass, I hadn’t actually realised how thirsty I’d been. I didn’t eat much of our Mexican take-out either. When I knew I’d be drinking a lot of alcohol, I tended not to eat a lot before. Just enough to settle my stomach. Otherwise, I’d be throwing up worse than Remi after the last party.

George was by the counter, pulling out shot glasses and various bottles of alcohol. I swallowed. He was going to kill me one way or another.

‘Don’t look so scared, Betty. I’m going to water the shots down with some soda. Except El Diablo. She must be drunk alone.’

‘She?’ I asked, forcing myself up once more and making my way over to one of the bar stools. I felt slightly better after the water. Still pretty drunk, but no longer queasy and dry mouthed.

‘Hell hath no fury like a scorned bottle of tequila! She’s been locked up for a few months, I don’t think she’s happy with me.’

‘She looks vile,’ I groaned, spotting the bottle of red liquid again.

‘Shush! She can hear you,’ George whispered loudly, pushing the bottle away slightly and turning it so the front of the bottle was facing the other way. ‘Don’t make her angry.’

‘Okay,’ I whispered back. ‘Wait, what’re you doing here?’ I added, lowering my eyes to the counter.

He was arranging ten shot glasses in a line and had already filled half up with just plain soda water.

‘Where’s the water?’ George asked.

‘Um, the bottle is right there in your hand,’ I said slowly. ‘You’re wasted, aren’t you?’

‘No!’ he exclaimed, laughing as he looked back up at me. ‘You never played ‘where’s the water’ before?’

‘Oh,’ I said, drawing the word out. ‘It’s a game?’