Lincoln Burrows had been drinking since noon, telling himself that it's perfectly okay to drink yourself into a stupor on your birthday. Mandatory, even.
The phone had been ringing at regular intervals but he had let the answering machine pick up each time –he wasn't in the mood to talk to any of his latest conquests. His son had sent a short letter. Vee had sent a Hallmark card and hadn't bothered to handwrite an additional message. His brother hadn't sent anything or picked up his phone but with each beer, the stinging disappointment felt lighter.
When the contours of the empty beer cans at his feet became blurry and uncertain, he decided it was time to head out and have some fun.
The whirling, multicoloured lights of the club didn't agree with the beers he had been downing all afternoon and he was suddenly feeling disoriented and lonely. Surely, passing out drunk in the middle of a strip club was not what respectable men did on their thirtieth birthday, but he'd never been all that respectable anyway.
Lincoln made his way to the tables away from the stage, carefully avoiding the other men's eyes, and sat in a corner with his tequila shot. He threw several wrinkled tens on the table, and waited idly to be entertained.
Sitting on his own in this ridiculous place, he wondered for a minute what Michael would say if he caught him there. He was either to young or too old for this. But his brother didn't seem to care much what he did or did not do these days, which was one of the reasons why he was on his own tonight.
Lincoln drank his shot in a couple of large gulps and was contemplating leaving when a small brunette in a hot pink bikini swayed her way to his table. She had pretty hair that reminded him of Veronica, but he wasn't sure he wanted to think about her.
"Waiting for me, honey?" she leaned over and murmured to his ear, with a heavy east-European accent.
"Right. Give it your best, babe, it's my birthday."
"Oh, really? How old are you, big boy?" she asked conversationally as she started to shake her boobs right in front of his face.
"Thirty," he stated absently and leaned back, admiring her shapely body as she oscillated in his lap.
"Well then, the next one's on me, birthday boy. Don't tell the boss, okay?" she whispered and winked, shooting him her best predatory smile.
"Sure thing," Lincoln replied, forcing a smile.
Later, as he stumbled into his apartment with the giggling stripper –Nina? Nicole?– and took her straight to his bedroom, he forgot to check if his brother had called. It wasn't until she started singing 'Happy Birthday to you' as she unbuckled his belt that he remembered about his ungrateful brother. Thankfully, not for long.