Chapter 13
Scooter crawled out of bed, hating sunlight, vodka, gravity, and his life. In that order. He ached like someone had thrown him down the stairs. He stretched and groaned, categorizing his aches and pains. Made his way into his bathroom and scrubbed old vodka off his teeth. Dry swallowed some Advil. Pulled on his jeans and went to get his coffee, already cheerfully percolating in the other room like it was any other day. (Bless the timer function. Also, bless whoever had planned ahead enough to get it set up, because Scooter was pretty sure it hadn’t been him.)
The living room was a wreck, bits of wrapping paper and glitter everywhere. The wrapping paper was easily dealt with. He was going to kill Elaine for the glitter. Or make her come up and vacuum his place. Or both. There w
