34
Someone has lined up shots. And already the tabletop is littered with empty shot glasses, so Holden and his friends have been very busy in my brief absence.
“Everything okay?” Holden says as I retake my seat. His breath is flammable and his eyes appear to be floating in their sockets.
I nod. “Brilliant.” I smile. “You guys having fun here?”
“Every time the band uses foul language in one of their songs, you do a shot.”
Which means every twelve seconds. I’ve been reseated for less than a minute and the girl to Holden’s left has already downed two, one behind the guy sitting to her left. These people are going to be corpses before night’s end.
This is why I’m always the designated driver. Getting plastered in public and then puking my way across the city is so uninteresting.
Two hou
