Blank Slate

Chapter 3: A Bag of Chips

Chapter 3: A Bag of Chips

Flint Morgan

Some people are just like a bag of chips...

Just full of air and not much else.

Flint had this exact sentiment when he was forced to talk to the preppy Dartmouth gang that was slowly taking over the Bachelor party. Their ties hung loose off their Harry-Potter-like bodies, as they guzzled beer down in celebration.

Flint couldn't be more cheery if he was dancing on the table tops.

Flint took another shot of scotch and continued to look at that damn card.

The man who had given it to him wandered off, but he couldn't help but fix his eyes on it.

It had to be fake. Or a hoax. Or a bit of both.

Maybe it was a gag. This was a bar after all. He looked around, Jared was drinking with the Dartmouthers. His face was plastered in a smile as he gorged himself on alcohol. His black hair was sweaty from dancing and his steel grey eyes drooped a bit as he chugged more beer.

Suddenly, as if he signaled him with the glance over there, Jared and the Dartmouthers came over.

All of their beers were raised and Jared grinned at him, "Come on brother, give us your famous speech."

By famous speech, he really meant that Flint could quote Star Wars verbatim.

Flint wasn't prepared for this, "Speeeeech." he slurred.

Jared looked at him in confusion, while he dipped down to ear and asked, " how much have you had to drink?"

Flint laughed and showed a little amount with his pinched hands, " Thiz mach." he slurred again.

Jared whispered to the Dartmouthers and they backed off so it was only Jared and him.

Jared gave him a consoling pat on his shoulder, "Why don't we get you home. Where are you staying?" he asked.

All Flint could muddle out was the slurred tone, "Buttt yer ppparty."

Jared shook it off, "I'll come back. Come on let's get you home."

Jared grabbed his coat. As Jared grabbed his things, Flint held onto that business card from earlier. When Jared was finally ready, Flint stumbled through the bar doors and out to the dark poisoned city. Still carrying the business card close to him, he looked around. When Jared came out, he looked at Flint.

"Where are you staying?" he asked once again.

Flint just was focused on the name on the card, " Blank Slate", and the address on the card. He stared at it trying to make out the blurry letters.

Jared took the card out of Flint's hands, "Is this it?" he looked over the card address.

Flint gave a rolling nod and Jared started up his red Lamborghini with LED lights under his ride.

Flint slid in as his stomach begrudged his choice of liquor.

Jared eyed him carefully, "Don't puke on the upholstery."

Flint didn't care what he said, he just turned to his side and began sleeping.

The leather was uncomfortable.

Jared turned on the seat warmers and honestly he knew heaven wasn't cheap, but he wondered how much that cost to be put in his own car.

He sped through the Chicago streets because apparently speed limits don't apply to the rich.