My head is pounding. I crack one eye open and regret it immediately as the room begins to spin. Blinding white light streams through the blinds in my bedroom. Is this my bedroom? I take stock of my surroundings. It feels like my bed. Smells like my sheets. How the f**k did I get home last night?
This is why I don't drink liquor. I can't be losing entire chunks of my day. I close my eyes again and try to retrace the afternoon. We reached a plea deal and an arrangement with the DA. Then I had that meeting with Mitch from the MLB and he put his f*****g hands on Alice.
"s**t. Alice." I clap my hand to my forehead, remembering how I'd gone into her office after I drank most of a bottle of tequila with Ben. The two of us put something like 250 hours into that damn DUI incident over the past
