Before he could reply, a group of drunken girls crashed through the front door of the bar. They were beyond wasted, loud, and all dressed in pink from head to toe. Except for one, who was in all white. Bachelorette party. Great. Bert stood up and headed over to the bar to help them all.
“Oh my gosh! This place is sooo adorbs.” One giggled.
“I can’t believe you found it!” another shouted.
They were on what appeared to be a treasure hunt, and one of their stops was a hole in the wall bar—perfect.
I melted into the corner of my booth, wanting nothing more than to be left alone.
They all hurried over to the bar, giggling.
“What can I get you, ladies?” Bert asked.
In unison, they shouted, tossing their hands into the air, “FIREBALL!”
My eyes shut, and I was back on that boat.
“That’s just because America’s Sweetheart Maggie May doesn’t speak. If she did, she’d say some poetic shit, I bet.” He paused, and his eyes grew wide. “FOUL PLAY! I mentioned a girl. I need a shot! FIREBALL!” He launched toward the bottle of Fireball, and as he moved, his body bent over, hanging from the edge of the boat, and I gripped him tight, pushing him back toward the
boat.
I shook my head. Stop. As I was moving across the booth, with every plan to sneak out of the back door, one of the girls spotted me.
“Oh. My. God,” she hissed.
I dropped my head to the table, and tried to act normal.
“Tiffany! Look, is that…?”
The blonde turned my way. “Oh my gosh! It’s Brooks Griffin!” she shouted.
All of the girls started screaming and rushed over to my table. I swore there were only a few at first, but my blurred version was confusing me more than normal. They were shoving their camera phones in my face, and I tried my best to push them away. Then, their questions and comments came flooding in.
“Oh my gosh, Brooks. I’m so sorry about your accident.”
“Oh my God! Did you lose your fingers?”
“Does that mean you can’t play the guitar anymore?”
“Are you going to keep doing music?”
“Can we buy you a shot?”
“Can we get a picture?”
“I love you so much!”
“Is it true about the drugs?”
“No! He wouldn’t…would you? I wouldn’t judge.”
“I smoke pot.”
“My cousin was hooked on prescription pills.”
“Brian?”
“No, West.”