Who Knows When (Joger/Dealor)

Chapter 32

Faced with the reality of our situation, I went into flight mode and—in a rash decision—brushed past him, heading straight for the stairs that led back to the parking lot. His voice hit my ear faintly as I slammed the door behind me and started to run down the flight of steps, attempting to ride the rails halfway down but quickly realizing that wasn't an option. I ignored John as his frantic footsteps and pleas for me to stop echoed through the stairwell and jumped the last few steps, breaking out onto the asphalt. I didn't get very far before the man I was running away from caught up to me, grabbing me by the arm and spinning me around to face him.

He didn't get the chance to say what he wanted to, with his voice being stolen by another. "There you two are!" We looked behind us to see Brian sitting on one of the benches outside the university with Tim. I raised an eyebrow in surprise, having not seen Tim since he told us he was leaving us for Humpy Bong.

Brian handed Tim the beer he was sharing with him and stood up, stumbling over to John and me—looking like a man trying to walk on stilts even though that's just how long his legs were—and pulling us both into an inebriated, bone-crushing hug. My cheeks immediately went red thinking about how long the two must've been there, and how much they must've heard. "I've been looking for you guys everywhere!"

John laughed, stepping out of the embrace and nodding towards Tim. "It sure looks like it." The former singer and bass player raised his drink in recognition before finishing Brian's drink for him and adding the two amber bottles to the other four that were by his feet; there were even more kicked underneath the bench. Well, shit.

"I really did!" Brian tried to convince us, his speech starting slur and his balance starting to waver the longer he stood before us. "I-I looked everywhere and...and I couldn't find you! Where were you guys?" He staggered forward, and John and I instinctively shot our arms out to catch him, but our reaction accomplished the opposite of what we wanted it to, pushing him back all without us laying a finger on him—right into Tim's arms. The tall guitarist broke out into a fit of laughter as he realized what had happened, getting a laugh out of Tim too. John and I, however, stayed quiet.

I crossed my arms over my chest as my old bandmate glanced over at me, explaining with a stupid grin on his face, "Yeah...he might've had one too many drinks. You know how he gets when he drinks, Rog."

"Yeah, Tim, I do," I responded coldly, my grudge against him that I'd honestly forgotten about returning with full force.

I began to wonder what he was even doing here as an awkward moment of silence fell upon the four of us, though it wasn't total silence—Brian had become an unstoppable giggling mess, finding everything hilarious even though nothing was going on.

Tim's eyes wandered over to John at one point and he chuckled, sticking a hand out and saying, "I'm Tim, by the way, if you didn't know."

"John," he replied civilly, placing his hand in Tim's and giving it a solid shake.

"John," Tim repeated slowly, as if registering the name in his mind. That's when it clicked for him. "Ah, you must be the guy Brian was telling me about! All good things, all good things," he assured him.

My gaze that had locked on my feet was drawn over to John who laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, that's a relief I suppose. I'm sorry to say that I haven't heard much about you."

"All you need to know about him is that he's a fucking backstabber..." I interjected before the traitor could present himself with a web of lies, "...and an asshole, and a liar, and a thief—"

Both men gave me weird looks while Brian tried to scamper off, living in his own world and minding his own business. Tim held him back, though, keeping him at an arm's distance. "A thief?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, a thief," I said again, my voice low and gravelly as I did my best to refrain from going off on him. I would've thought that, with John around, my resentment towards Tim would have vanished. Apparently, it had just been suppressed, waiting to be released the next time I saw him. I just didn't think it'd be this soon.

"Hey, Tim, why don't we take Brian off your hands?" John kindly offered in an attempt to relieve the tense situation we were quickly finding ourselves in, reaching out for the guitarist. "I'm sure you've had enough of his drunk nonsense anyways, and I think it's time for him to call it a night, yeah?"

"Agreed," the original bassist retorted with a slight laugh.

"Nooooooo," Brian whined pathetically as he was transferred from Tim to John, pouting his lips out and mumbling as he collapsed into John's arms, "I don't want to gooooo. Tim and I were just starting to talk about yooouuuu."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Bri, it's time to go home."

"Okaaaayyy," the guitarist murmured in slight defeat, clinging to the bassist like a sleepy baby monkey.

John rubbed his back and began making his way towards our van that had been parked right outside the university's entrance, telling Tim along the way that it was nice to meet him. Tim said the same, adding that he hoped he'd see him again. His eyes traveled back over to me and, with that irritating intoxicated smile of his, tacked on, "I hope to see you again too, blondie."

"Oh, I'm sure," I responded with a hint of skepticism and a whole lot of sarcasm, sliding my hands into my pants pockets and biting my cheek, "You've probably been so busy with your new band. What are they called again? Frumpy Thong?"

He scoffed and folded his arms over his chest. "Come on, Rog. Don't be like that. You know how it is out there. It wasn't anything personal. When are you going to realize that?"

"Maybe when you realize that it wasn't just the band you left behind that day," I argued, saying no more before abandoning him in the parking lot and hopping in the passenger seat of the van, slamming the door shut behind me. I angrily strapped the seat belt over my chest and secured it into place, looking up to meet John's concerned gaze that was illuminated by the flood light outside of the university. "What?" I snapped.