“Hey there, cutie,” Irene, Alec’s wife coos drunkenly as she stands in line for the keg. She leans against me with what I can only assume is supposed to be a hug and says, “I’m going to do a keg stand in a second. Would you like to hold my legs? You’re the only one I trust.”
“How did you know I was coming over here?” I ask.
“What?”
“Well,” I tell her, “if you were already planning on doing a keg stand and I’m the only one you trust to hold your legs—you know what? Never mind,” I tell her as she attempts to stand up straight, but only managing what I can only describe as stumbling without moving her feet.
“You’re so good to me,” Irene says, taking a long drink from her plastic cup.
“Hey, I’m actually glad you’re here,” I start, but she thinks that’s the whole thought.
“Oh,” she says, putting her arm around me again, “I’m really glad that you’re here, too. I’ve always liked you, you know. I don’t know what Alec tells you that makes it so seldom that we see each other places,” she slurs, “but I like it when you’re around with us here.”
“Thanks,” I smile, “but I was wondering if I could get your advice on something.”
“Anything you need, Errc,” she answers, spitting as she talks.
“You know your friend, the one whose sister you gave my number to?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Irene says. “Her name is Jessica. She’s a very prerrty girl.” Irene leans toward me and, putting her hand to one side of her mouth, she says, “I think the two of you would make beautiffful babies together, mmm hmm.”
She nods agreement with her own statement.
“…thanks,” I tell her. “Well, I actually know her from somewhere else, only she doesn’t know that I’m the one that’s been texting her and that husband of yours—”
“Alec!” Irene shouts and, while my little outburst earlier went largely unnoticed, Irene and her famous set of pipes bring everyone’s attention to our attention.
Alec makes his way over and Irene immediately slaps him across the face.
“What did you do?”
“Jesus!” Alec exclaims. “What was that for?”
“Errerric here says that you did something, now what wasssit?” she asks. “J’accuse!”
“Oh god,” Alec moans. “Don’t tell me we’re back to that again.”
“What did you do?” Irene asks.
“I told Miss Davis—”
“Miss Davis?” Irene interrupts. “Is that some sort of sexxx thing? Have you been stickin’ it in other people, ‘cause you know my rule about that.”
“I know,” Alec says, “only if you’re there. But no, we’ve never done anything. Miss Davis, Jessica, she’s the one we were doing that store remodel for and Eric’s concerned that she’s not going to take him seriously.”
“That’s not really my concern—”
“Oh, Errerriac’s a good man,” Irene says. She turns in the direction of the greatest amount of people and loudly announces, “This right herrre’s a gooood man!”
“I really appreciate that,” I tell her quietly, “but what we’re trying to tell you is that she doesn’t know that I’m the guy who’s been texting with her, and I don’t know if it would be such a good idea if she did now that your husband—”
“I’m sorry I slapped you,” Irene interrupts, rubbing her husband’s face.
At this point, I no longer have any impression that Irene’s going to be able to give me any usable advice here. All I can hope for now is that I can somehow convince her that telling Jessica who I am is a bad idea.
“Just tell her how you feel,” Irene says. “I bet she’d be thrilled to know it’s you.”
“Well, we’ve kind of had some problems in the past,” I tell Irene. “Things are getting better, but—”
“Do you want me to talk to herrr for you?” Irene asks. “I’ll totally talk you up—I know! I’ll just tell her that you’ve got a huge dick. Women love that. You have a huge dick, don’t you Errkrr?”
“I really don’t know how to answer that question,” I say, looking to Alec for guidance.
He has none to offer.
“Jessica!” Irene shouts.
“Don’t,” I tell Irene. “I really don’t think that particular line of communication is going to do me any favors.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Irene says.
I’m furiously trying to think of some way to convince Irene not to drunkenly announce to Jessica anything about what I’ve got in my pants. Don’t get me wrong, I’m quite comfortable with what I’m packing, but it’s really not my idea of small talk.
“Hey Irene!” Jessica says and gives her a hug. “This is a great party.”
“Isn’t it?” Irene asks. “I hear that you know my friend Eric, here.”
Oh god.
“You know,” Irene continues, “there’s something about Eric that I think you should—”
“Keg’s free!” I interrupt and praise whatever deity made Irene an alcoholic because she turns on her heel, quickly hands Alec her cup of beer and, without prompting of any kind, two guys that I’ve never met in my life lift her into position over the keg.
Irene drinks like a champ for ten solid seconds and when she’s the right kind of vertical again, she lifts her arms above her head and lets out a loud, “Woo!” to the cheers of the partygoers.
“Damn, girl,” Jessica says. “You’ve got an iron gullet.”
“Yerr dammn skippity I do,” Irene says. The smile drains from her face quickly, though, and Alec grabs his wife’s hand.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he says, “let’s get you to the bathroom.”
“Do you think she’s going to be okay?” Jessica laughs.
“Yeah, I’m sure she’ll be fine,” I tell her. “In the years that I’ve known the two of them, I’ve never even heard of Irene throwing up. If anything, they’re probably headed upstairs to—so, cool party, huh?” I ask.
Jessica eyes me, saying, “Yeah, I guess. You know, it’s so funny that you should be here. I had no idea that Irene and Alec were married. The times that I’ve been around her, she’s never actually mentioned having a husband. In fact, and don’t tell anybody this, the last time we were at a bar, she picked up this guy, and—I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” she says. “He’s your friend.”
“It’s all right,” I chuckle. “They’re swingers.”
“Oh,” Jessica says.
“Yeah,” I smile. “Not really the kind of mental picture you want to have rattling around in your brain, is it?”
“Not really,” Jessica titters.
“So, who’s your friend?” I ask.
“Oh, that’s my sister, Kristin,” Jessica answers. “We’re actually supposed to be meeting someone here.”
“Really?” I ask. “Who are you looking for? I know most of the people here. I might be able to help you out.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” she says. “It’s not really—I don’t know that I’d—”
“Let me guess,” I interrupt. “It’s a guy.”
There’s a strange apology on her face as she says, “Yeah.”
“All right,” I tell her. “What’s his name? I’ll see if I can help you track him down.”
“That’s kind of the problem,” she says.
“Oh, blind date?” I ask.
All right, this way’s more fun than just coming clean.
“Something like that,” she says. “Kristin gave me his number and we’ve kind of been talking for a while.”
“What kind of voice does he have?” I ask, really pushing my luck.
“I don’t know,” she says. “We’ve never actually talked, talked.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Well, I don’t know. It’s hard to explain,” she answers.
Really, it’s just as simple as saying, “We’ve been texting for a few weeks now,” but I certainly understand how this situation could make that difficult to convey.
“Well,” I tell her, “your sister must know who he is if she’s the one that gave you his number.”
“This is awkward,” Jessica answers. “She got the number from Irene, but Kristin’s never actually met the guy.”
“Ah, psycho-stalker type then,” I ask with a smile.
“No,” she says, “I will have you know that he is—well, I like talking to him, and I think that’s about as much as you need to know about it.”