Dial Drunk - Post Malone

12

"You have one job. Make sure there is always a beer in my hand. Always," Austin all but spits out at one of the stagehands who had been late bringing in a box of beers to the green room. "Sorry, s-sir," the kid stutters out almost in tears. Guilt shoots down his spine and he pinches his nose. He is a fucking asshole lately. His father would kick his fucking ass. "Look, kid. I am sorry, you are just trying to do your job and I am being an asshole," he says. "It's OK. I know you must be stressed out. This is your biggest crowd. There are so many people out there...so many...sorry I will stop talking now," the kid says. Geeze. He was nervous before, but now? He needs another beer. He takes the beer from the stagehand and cracks it open just in time to see Dre coming into the room. "I have become an asshole," he confesses, he needs to let it out, this is not who he was raised to be. This is not who he is. How the fuck did he get here? "Oh...uh...well I am sure it's just the pressure getting to you. Maybe I could arrange for you to speak to someone," Dre says. He didn't even try to sway Austin's mind. Has he really been that much of a moody jerk over the last four months of the tour?

"No. I am fine."

"Come on. I know a guy."

"I know a guy too," Grassy says popping into the room holding up a bag of weed and a wide grin. "You know a guy in every city," Austin says with a laugh, he is hoping the subject changes and Dre forgets about his comment earlier. "Austin here was just saying he feels like he is being a bit of an asshole," Dre says, seems Dre has no intention of moving on. Cecilia appears and starts fiddling with his outfit for the stage quietly. "You are not an asshole," Cecilia mumbles while she is busy. At least she is on his side. "Oh yes, he is," Grassy says causing Dre and Cecilia to stop and look at him. Austin shrugs. Grassy has always been unapologeticly honest with Austin, and he is right. "Well, I was just saying it could be the pressure of touring that's getting to him. We are only halfway through the tour and have had to add dates on top of everyone demanding more interviews. It's a lot," Dre says as Cecilia gets back to work and Austin opens another beer.

"That's not why," Grassy says, rolling joints. "Why then?" Dre asks. Grassy shrugs and busiest himself with continuing to roll his joints. Austin wants to pretend like this conversation never happened, but Grassy's words are grating his brain. Cecilia finishes her alterations quietly and then she and Dre leave the green room. "Why am I being an asshole?" Austin asks as soon as they are alone. "Because you are a functioning alcoholic," Grassy says with a shrug and continues to roll his joints as if he never said a dam thing. "That's not true," Austin says. "It's not?" Grassy asks still rolling his fucking joints and not looking up. "No, so I have a few beers before going on stage. There is nothing wrong with that," Austin says. "No. No, there ain't nothing wrong with that. But, that's not the problem is it, buddy? It's that dam hip flask you now no longer keep under your pillow but tucked into your waistband. It's the fact that you get the shakes if you go longer than an hour without alcohol," he says as he rolls his joint and then looks up at Austin. "It's the fact that we have been on tour for four months and you have never spent a night sober."

"It's just for now. I have a handle on it."

"You ain't got a handle on shit."

"Now is not a good time to get into this with you. I am trying to get my head right before I go on stage."

"There is never a good time to have this conversation. When can I pencil in some time? Somewhere between the first whiskey bottle and the third preferably."

Austin stares at Grassy who is now spread out on the couch like he is on a dam beach holiday. The thing is with Grassy, Austin knows the man will go to war for him. Austin never has to look over his shoulder because Grassy has his back. Dare anyone in this world say a slated word to or about Austin and you best run - Grassy will hunt you down. Unapologetically. This short man who stands only 5.5, with a bright orange shaggy mullet, and spaghetti limbs will choose Austin over the world and everyone knows it. He has been high as a kite on weed every day of his life since he turned 14 and Austin thinks that weed now has no more effect on him than a cigarette would. There is nothing in this world that he could ever do that would make Grassy turn his back on him.