Free TAUT by J.A. Huss Page B

conversation. But I’m just not into it.
    The phone buzzes an incoming call almost as soon as I hang up with my mother. It’s Rook, right on time. I press speaker for this one. I need both hands—one to hold the glass as I drink and one to pour the whiskey when I finish. “How can I help you, Miss Corvus?” I answer.
    “Oh my fucking God! You finally picked up! What the fuck, Ford! What the fuck?”
    She’s almost hysterical and I have a moment of guilt. But it passes.
    “Ford? You better talk to me, goddammit! I swear to God, I’m so not in the mood for your weird shit! I’m pissed off!” She’s huffing on the other end of the phone and then I briefly hear Ronin talking to her in the background. There’s a shuffling of the phone and then he comes on.
    “Ford? You OK, man?”
    I take a sip of whiskey and enjoy it. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
    Rook is going crazy in the background now. I can hear her losing control. “Well, Rook says you broke up with her…” He stops as she snaps at Ronin and I enjoy that a little too much. “Rook, those were your words, OK? Ford, what the fuck is going on?”
    “I’m just done with her, Ronin. That’s all. I’ve used her all up and I don’t require her friendship anymore, so please, apologize—”
    The line goes dead. I smile a little as I take a sip. That’s one way to stop the calls and get my phone back.
    “Wow,” the girl says, standing in the door to my dad’s office.
    “Wow what?” I answer back, instantly annoyed that she overheard that conversation.
    “That was harsh.”
    “You think?” I point to the chair in front of the desk and pour some whiskey in her glass, then scoot it in that direction. “Try this.”
    “No,” she says, but she’s moving towards the chair I just pointed to, like she thinks she’s gonna sit down and have a conversation with me. “I’m breastfeeding. I can’t drink.”
    “I’m not asking you to get drunk . It’s a fucking bottle of 1939 Macallan. Take a fucking sip and form an opinion. You might never get another chance in your lifetime to drink a whiskey this fine. Live a little, Ashleigh and Tony Forever, Proud Marine Wife .”
    She’s still crossing the room when the last of my words come out, but they make her physically recoil mid-stride. She looks hard at me for a moment. Just staring.
    “What?” I snarl. “You’ve never seen a man be a dick to a woman before?” I laugh. “Well, you’re in for a real treat then, because I’m at my peak tonight.”
    She never says a word. Just turns and walks out.
    I’m not sure how long I sit there drinking my dead father’s ten-thousand-dollar bottle of Scotch, but I am good and drunk before I finally figure out she came down to tell me dinner was ready.
    My life sucks.
    I’m still wearing my New Year’s tux, I haven’t eaten since yesterday, and I have almost two days’ worth of stubble on my chin that’s annoying the hell out of me and the only person in this fucking world who gives a shit about me is my mother. And she has to care about me. It’s like, the law.
    I cap the bottle and slip my phone into my pants pocket. I leave the fucking suit coat on the chair. I’ve seen the last of this tux, and I could care less what happens to it. Rook and Ronin never called back. My phone went from secretly-ringing-off-the-hook to might-as-well-be-dead. I climb the stairs with some difficulty, and then remember the fucking girl is probably still here.
    Where else would she be, Ford? She’s totally dependent on you.
    “Don’t start with me right now, internal monologue.” I laugh a little at that. The house is mostly dark. Only the small light over the stove is on. I go to the kitchen looking for signs of dinner, but it’s spotless. I open the fridge and squint at what’s in there.
    Next to the microbrews I bought at Safeway, in front of the bowl of leftover salad, is a plate. It’s got a little sticky note on it that says, Ford .
    Fuck. She’s one of those