Write Your Own Song

Chapter 36

Angel kept glancing over his shoulder at the door every time it opened.

"I told you, man, no strippers," Bobby said, tilting his chair back on two legs, shaking his head.

"But …" Angel gestured to the door, confused. "This is a bachelor party, right?"

Bobby let the chair drop to the floor with a thunk. "This ain't enough for you – chillin' with your brothers, good whiskey, good conversation? Not a bad send off for your last night of freedom, if you ask me."

"Boobs, Bobby. I want to see boobs. And I don't mean you three." He leaned back in his chair, glowering his best glower as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Johnny G's was jumping for a Friday night – well, as close to jumping as a dive bar in Detroit could get - couple of rowdy twenty-somethings at the bar, Motown on the jukebox, and a scattering of couples at the tables. It was clear that everyone had one thing in common – get drunk fast, as cheaply as possible. Good ol' Detroit.

Johnny ambled on over to their table with a bottle of whiskey. He sloppily poured it into their shot glasses, clapping Angel on the shoulder. "This round's on me, guys." he said and Jack couldn't help but notice that he poured each shot slightly less full than he normally would.

Angel nodded his thanks and Johnny laughed and shook his head. "Never thought I'd see the day …"

"What day would that be?" Jerry asked, twisting the glass on the table. Jack could tell he was contemplating whether or not he should drink it – after all, he'd reached his three drink limit within thirty minutes of sitting down and Jerry hated leaving his precious Volvo behind and taking a cab. Jack didn't give a fuck and downed his seconds after Johnny had poured it.

"Another Mercer, getting hitched. Your mom would be proud." Johnny gave a sentimental smile. "I remember when she adopted each and every one of you. You know the grief the neighborhood gave her?"

Jack looked up, startled to hear Johnny talk about Evelyn in such a personal way. He really had no idea the guy knew her as more than just a sweet old lady who lived a couple of blocks away and had a reputation for taking in strays.

Johnny sighed and Jack had a brief flash of worry that he was going to start crying. Talk about awkward. "She was a great lady," Johnny said, gruffly.

"That she was," Bobby said.

Johnny sat the bottle of Jack Daniels in the center of the table. "On the house. For Evelyn," he said as he made his way back to the bar.

"Thanks, man," Jack said as he picked it up and refilled his glass. He heard Bobby growl next to him. Old habits die way too fucking hard. Despite being mostly healed from all the stupid injuries he'd received during Bobby's shitty road trip, his oldest brother still found it necessary to police every goddamn thing he did. Light a cigarette: Bobby scowls. Pour a drink: Bobby growls. Sleep past noon: Bobby bangs on his door like the house is on fire.

Jack downed the shot and then, just to piss off his brother, picked up the bottle to pour another. Bobby snatched the bottle out of his hand. "You're cut off, Princess."

"You can't tell me what to do," Jack said, his words slurring slightly.

Jerry looked down at the table, his fingers lightly tapping on the surface and he laughed.

"What?" Jack asked him.

"Nothin', man. Just that you sounded all of about five there." Jerry shook his head and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Some things never change."

"You know, Jer, you're right," Bobby said, a glint in his eye. Jack didn't like that glint. "You want a timeout in the corner while you think about your behavior tonight, Jackipoo?"