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.”
I put my palms up, saying, “It’s all right. I was just joking. I’m sure he has a relatively low body count.”
“Oh, shut up,” she says, playfully hitting me on the arm.
“Well, not knowing his name or anything about him, I really don’t know how much I can help you,” I tell her.
“I guess I could try texting him,” she says, “but Alec said he might not make it, something about bad clams or something.”
“That kind of sounds like something Alec could have omitted from the conversation,” I tell her.
Even though I was relatively certain that it was her, actually knowing it for a fact and talking to her about myself in the third person has got me wanting to draw this out as long as possible.
“I’m going to send him a text,” she says. “If nothing else, at least I can find out if he’s going to be able to make it tonight.”
She pulls out her phone, and I’ve really got to get out of here. The jig is up if she hears my phone go off right after she sends her message.
“Hey, I’m going to go check on Irene,” I tell her.
“I thought you—well, it sounded like you were implying that they were—you know what?” she asks. “Never mind. It’s really none of my business.”
“No,” I start, “it’s not that—”
She’s texting at a rate that would be impressive if it weren’t so threatening, so I just walk off, taking a right turn toward Alec and Irene’s bedroom.
I get halfway down the hall, but stop as I hear the bed creaking.
It’s never really made sense to me how she could go from looking like she was about to refund to the conclusion that sex was what the doctor ordered, but it’s not really something I spend much time thinking about.
I pull out my phone and, as I go to turn the notification volume down, the text comes through.
Unless Jessica followed me, which I feel pretty safe in saying she didn’t, there’s no way she could hear the sound.
The message reads, “Hey, I’m at the party. Just wanted to know if you were still coming.”