13. Jezebel Jack
“He wouldn’t let me call anyone else.”
I tore my gaze away from the drunken man in front of me to rest on his best friend, Wally. Once, months ago, we had been good friends as well but much like everything else in my life, Sebastian Mackintosh had taken that away when we had broken up. My happiness, for example.
“Well, that’s not my damn fault,” I muttered as I took a hesitant step towards the slumped man, who resembled more a mass of thick limbs than an actual human being at that moment. Seeing him now... I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to kiss him or slap him more. To beg for him to take me back or spit in his face that it was the best thing had happened to me. To lie or not to lie. “This would be a whole lot easier if he could just stay here, Walter.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t want to call me Wally anymore,” he said, his gaze serious as it bored into mine. I just averted my eyes and continued towards where Sebastian was on the ground, nudging him with my foot but only getting a soft snore in return. “And you know my parents’ll kill me if they see him drunk here.”
“Why’d he get so drunk, anyways?” I asked as I kicked a little harder, possibly even enough to hurt because he came to with a groan. Well, he stopped snoring, anyway. He still looked half-asleep.
“He, uh...” Wally trailed off and suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Well, he does that a lot these days.”
I snapped my head up, outright staring at him in an emotion I couldn’t quite name. It was a mixture between hope and disbelief, hoping that I was the cause of Sebastian’s misery and yet not quite able to believe that futile idea. I also felt slightly angry at Wally for saying it in such a suggestive way that made it clear he thought I was the reason behind Sebastian’s drinking. How dare he toy with me like that? “Don’t look at me like that, Wally,” I warned as I grabbed one of Sebastian’s arms while he took the other and we began to heave him from his apartment.
Wally opened his mouth to say something, only a stirring Sebastian beat him to it. His eyes were hazy as they travelled up my body to rest on my face, where they stayed firmly even through his drunken haziness.
“Jez, you came,” he said, or slurred, rather. His face lit up with a soft smile, but when he went to remove his arm from around my shoulder he stumbled. “Whoa.”
With some difficulty, we managed to get him into the passenger seat of the truck. I buckled him in, avoiding his wandering hands that made me want to sob and moan at the same time, and faced Wally. He offered me a sad, sympathetic smile, hands dangling as awkwardly as ever by his sides. Once I’d been just as much of a self-conscious teenager as he was, but meeting Sebastian had changed me. Now we’d broken up, my self-assuredness had stuck, his stamp forever on me, but it didn’t really mean much if I was miserable at the same time.
“Bye, Wally,” I said, unable to help myself in moving forwards to hug him. He was a couple inches shorter than me at five foot eight, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt nice to be around my friend after so long, even if it was in less than desired circumstances.
He pulled back and shot me another sad smile. “Bye, Jez. And sorry about this again.”
I just shrugged, afraid I’d choke if I said anything more, and got back in the truck. Wally waved us off as I drove away into the night, but I didn’t wave back. Instead, I was too distracted by the sleeping man in my passenger seat, so much so that even the quiet hum of Fleetwood Mac from the radio wasn’t as soothing as usual.
I wanna’ be with you everywhere
Oh, I wanna’-
“Oh, shut up,” I grumbled and, after ejecting the CD, promptly flung it to the back of the truck. Sappy love music wasn’t really my thing these days. The CD I put on next, Marilyn Manson, was much better. I tried to absorb myself in the music, tried to hum along with that snarky voice, but after a good five minutes of driving I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to look at him.
