Lee woke up with the same hangover that he hadn't been able to shake since Sunday night. He probably would've slept a little bit longer if it wasn't for Barney and Tool going back and forth below him on the first floor. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he figured it was some useless shit about tattoos or jobs or women. He tried to block out the noise, but their low voices thrummed through the walls like it was their fucking job. He had half a mind to grab the knife from his bedside table and send it flying into Barney's good hand, or maybe shatter Tool's goddamn pipe. He was in a bit of sour mood lately.
—-
"Christmas, my friend!" Tool chuckled, holding up his pipe in greeting as Lee finished pulling his shirt over his head on the stairs. "Morning!"
"You are way too chipper for the time," Lee grunted, heading for the fridge to grab a water. He'd also need some pain meds. His head was heavy on his shoulders, his skull squeezing his brain. Before he could find any, Barney tossed the bottle to him and he shot his hand up on instinct to catch it. The pills rattling inside sent a surge of pain through his head, but he shook it off.
"Rough night?" Barney asked a bit loudly, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. He damn well knew the answer, but he was a son of a bitch and very aware of it. Lee knew it, too, and flashed him a glare after he downed a couple pills.
"Rough night, rough morning, rough life," Lee grumbled, tightening the cap on his water bottle and reaching for the cereal. It was lighter than he had expected. He frowned and looked inside.
"The boys'll be coming around soon," Barney said, lifting a brow and turning his attention to Tool, who had an absent, amused look on his face. He sucked on his pipe and crossed one leg over the other.
"What'd I say about you all leaving empty shit around?" Lee asked, slamming the cereal box down on the counter and bracing himself against it. He really wished the pain meds would kick in a bit faster. His stomach growled.
"You sound like my mama," Tool chuckled, wheezing out a bit of fog. "And you're certainly acting like a woman, too."
Barney suppressed a chuckle and looked over at his friend. Lee was in need of a shave. His head was a bit more fuzzy than usual and his five o'clock shadow had definitely seen better days.
"Gimme a break," Lee muttered, shaking his head and then letting it hang. His eyes were closed, the skin around them tightened as he strained. Barney could tell he was struggling, but he didn't wanna pry. He also wished Lee would just move on already.
"She wasn't your type," Barney sighed, running his good hand through his greasy dark hair before he stood up properly and snatched the empty box. He pulled the plastic bag out and crumpled it up. He tossed it towards the trashcan and missed. Tool frowned, but Lee didn't notice.
"I'm starting to think that's the only sentence you can string together," Lee said. Barney flattened out the cereal box and slid it across the table to Tool, who like to use them to paint on or mount art on top of. Tool looked down at it and wrapped his lips around the pipe again.
"And I'm starting to think you're losing it," Barney said. "Keep up like this, and you're gonna have a flask on your hip everywhere you go just like our pal Crankenstein. That what you want?"
Lee opened his eyes but didn't bother looking around. He stared down at his feet. Tool blew smoke from his puckered lips and turned his head to the ceiling.
"Maybe it is. What's so wrong with that?" Lee said.
Barney half-laughed and rolled his eyes. "No it ain't," he said.
Lee wanted to argue but he didn't have the energy to lie. He knew Barney was right. He really did not want to be like Gunner. If he ever started to lose his mind like that, he hoped Barney would just spare everyone the drama and put him down.
"I think," Tool said after a second, pulling his head back up and waving the pipe between Lee and Barney. "I think that Christmas here needs a little love."
"Love is what got Christmas into this mess," Barney said, exasperated. Then, under his breath, "well, what he thinks is love, anyway."
Lee finally looked back up at his friend, brows furrowed hard over his glare. Barney held up his hands and shrugged.
"What? She wasn't your type."
Tool set down his pipe and waved Barney off, making a bit of smoke dissipate around them.
"Naw, naw," he said, clearing some rasp from his voice. "What I mean is, Christmas needs a little no strings attached love, if you catch my drift."
Barney raised an eyebrow and glanced sidelong at Lee, who was standing up straight now but still facing the counter.
"I prefer not to be the flavor of the night," Lee said, running his hands down the back of his head. He realized he needed a shower and wrinkled his nose.
"That's what I mean, man," Tool went on. "You prefer the longterm, but how do you know what you want if you don't… dabble?"
"Dabble?" Barney asked, and he had to admit, he was a bit unconvinced. He'd known Lee a long time, and he'd never known the man to be much into dabbling. Sure, there'd been a few here and there, but he count them all on one hand, and he didn't even need his mangled thumb to do it.
"Dabble," Tool confirmed, and Lee finally turned to face him.
"I don't follow," Lee said through gritted teeth, even though he was following very well.
"Instead of wallowing in the Breaux's joint all night, you should head out into town! It's like and all-you-can-eat buffet, brother, and the chef is…" he pressed the tips of his fingers to his lips and pulled them away as he smacked his lips together, "delightful."
Barney raised an eyebrow at Tool, but when Lee looked his way for backup, he shrugged and bobbled his head like it was worth considering. Maybe it was. Lee was a grouchy drunk.
"See, this is why you're all old and alone," Lee said, pointing his finger in Tool's direction. "Fucking buffet, he says."
Barney wanted to take offense but he couldn't. He was old, technically. And not so technically alone. Very plainly alone, actually.
"Hey, man," Tool said, a smile playing on his lips as he leaned back in his chair. "I served my time. I wanna die warm in my bed with a woman at my side. It's the simple things."
Lee shook his head. To each his own, he supposed.
"Maybe it's not a bad idea," Barney said, and Lee stepped back from him in shock. "What? I can still be a good wingman."
"You? A wingman?" Lee asked, aghast. He tried to picture the man standing before him chatting up a nice younger woman, and he was suddenly uncomfortable.
"I'm a man, I got wings," Barney said, throwing his thumb over his shoulder as though his plane was parked outside with his bike.
"Flying that bucket of bolts does not make you qualified to talk to women," Lee said. "Wingman, he says."
"Hey, I was young once," Barney said.
"Did they even have women back then?" Lee sniped, and Tool chuckled. Barney felt himself smile, too.
"I got my share," Barney said. "Come on, Lee. You can't mope around here forever. It's not a good look for you."
"You know, Barney, he's so grumpy I can't imagine a woman even wanting to spend the night with him," Tool teased.
"Maybe they like 'em grumpy in the queens country," Barney countered.
"That true, Lee?"
"Sure, for ya mum," Lee grumbled, smashing his water bottle in his hands and tossing it to the trash.
"Ohh," Tool laughed, shaking his head. "God rest her soul."
Lee shook his head and made for the stairs as the rest of the guys started piling in.
"He's just gonna be old and alone like us, then, huh?" Barney called after him.
"Wanker," Lee hissed, snapping up his middle finger towards the both of them as he reached the top of the stairs.
"Wanka'," Tool mimicked, brows furrowed. "Where'd you say he's from again?"
Barney shrugged and shook his head and made the universal sign for hell if I know.
"Man, is he still on that?" Caesar said as he walked in, looking after Lee. "I guess he had it for her worse than we thought."
"Nah, she wasn't his type," Barney said.
"It's a privilege to get your heart broken by a beautiful woman," Doc said with a smile. "If only the poor bloke had a heart."
"He'll get over it," Toll said thoughtfully. "What he needs is some introspection."
"Your analyst teach you that?" Barney asked.
"You certainly didn't."
Gunner came in then, shirtless except for the leather vest he had thrown on. The edges of it were frayed and stuck out at odd angles like his hair. He let out a loud yawn and stalked over to the fridge for a beer.
"What're we inspecting?" Gunner asked, looking over the rest of the guys. Tool laughed and made to stand.
"Not inspection, introspection," Toll groaned. "Reflection. Soul searching. Understanding yourself," he tapped his pointer finger against the side of his head. "You could use some, too."
"I prefer the beer," Gunner said with a goofy grin. "Not as depressing."
"Me and the Italian Stallion got a plan for Christmas," Tool announced.
"And what's that? Girls night at the local spa, ice cream, and romcoms?" Caesar asked.
"Tool thinks Christmas should- how'd you say it- eat at the buffet," Barney said, and Doc cringed at the words. Toll didn't look too pleased with them, either. Gunner grinned even wider and dropped himself into a chair at the table.
"I said it better," Tool grunted.
"What's the point of this?" Caesar asked.
"The point is we got a mission, boys," Barney said, clapping his hands together. "Operation fix Christmas."
"Ba-hum-bug," Toll sighed.
"I know a place," Gunner said.
"If it involves crusty singles and stilettos, I'm not interested," Caesar said.
"Party pooper," Gunner frowned, holding up a big fat thumbs-down.
"It might work," Tool shrugged.
"Are you saying Gunner had a good idea?" Doc asked, incredulous.
"Last time any of us went along with one of his ideas, we damn near got trapped in a plutonium mine."
"Hey," Gunner frowned. "My idea did not get us stuck in there. My idea was on how to get us out."
"Yeah, and it didn't work," Toll said.
"Fulbright Scholar my ass," Caesar said.
"Hey, I was very smart once upon a time," Gunner said between sips of his beer. "Very attractive, too."
"Wonder what happened," Doc said.
"Alright, alright," Barney said, looking over the guys. "We got a job to do. We in or not?"
"Yeah, yeah, we're in," Caesar said. "Gonna have to call my wife. Tell her I'll be working late."
"I still don't know how the hell you did that," Tool said thoughtfully.
"Do what?" Caesar asked.
"Get a woman to stick around long enough to marry you."
Caesar smiled and pulled out his phone. He headed outside.
—-
Everly jumped at the sound of her cell phone going off. The vibrating sounded like the buzzer, and it set her off for a second before she got her bearings. She hit answer and put it on speaker.
She hadn't slept. She had sat against her kitchen cabinets with her knife in hand the entire night, finally dozing off as the light of dawn slipped through her curtains. She had dark purple bags under her eyes and a splitting headache.
"Hey, yeah," she said as she stood, pulling herself up along the counter. She placed the knife down and ran her hand through her hair, dizzy from exhaustion.
"Mornin', Eve," her uncle said, his voice raspy, lilted, and deep. "All went well last night?"
"Oh, yeah," she said, glancing towards her front door warily. "Closed up. No trouble."
"Good, good," he said on the other end. "Would'ja mind doin' it again for me tonight?"
Everly blinked a few times and yawned. Some tears rose in her eyes from the force of it and she shook her head to try and wake herself.
"I could always ask yer cousin," he said after a second.
"No, no, it's alright," she said quickly.
"You okay, honey?"
"I'm okay, just tired. Had a rough sleep last night."
"You sure ya wanna work, then? Like I said, I could-"
"Yeah, yeah, really, I'm okay," she insisted, moving to her window carefully. "Probably just gonna take a cat nap and head over before the dinner rush."
"Sure," he said. "Call me if you need anythin'."
"Sounds good, bye."
"Bye, honey."
She pressed the phone to her chest and pealed the curtains back slightly. She squinted against the daylight and waited for her eyes to adjust, but there was nobody there. Had she made it up? It felt like the sort of thing that hadn't actually happened. She knew her landlord had set up security cameras in the front and down the alley along the side of the building, so maybe she could ask him for last nights footage. Maybe.
Her hair was greasy and heavy against her face. She wrinkled her nose and decided she needed a shower, so she checked the locks on her door again, figuring it was probably safe enough in the daylight to do what she needed to do in her own damn house. She felt a little bit crazy.
She made sure the blinds were drawn as low as they could go before she stripped for her shower. Even then, she had a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked at the window, considering her options. After a second she grabbed a beach towel and hung it over the blinds. Another layer of protection. It was suddenly a bit darker, though.
She stepped into the shower and decided that if it happened again that night, she would call the police. Maybe they'd believe her, maybe not.
She stood under the hot water and found herself wishing she was at the bar. She was safe there, at least. It was a public space, and most of the people that came around had known her a while and knew her uncle even longer. Yes. She would feel safe at the bar.
By the time she finished the bathroom was foggy and dense. She could hardly breathe, but she wiped down the mirror and found herself in it anyway. The purple under her eyes brought out the cracked pink of her lips and she looked a bit pale and sick. Her mascara from last night was smeared down her cheeks. She didn't do well on no sleep. It didn't help that her hair was near black when it was wet, which made her look even more unwell. She sighed and tightened her towel around her chest before she opened the bathroom door and gulped in the fresh, cool air. It was around noon, and she figured she had some time to try and sleep before she headed out. She closed all of the blinds and curtains in her room until it was almost pitch black and changed into something comfortable. Baggy t-shirt, sweatpants, her wet hair tied up and away from her face.
She was staring up at her ceiling trying to sleep. She didn't know why it was so hard. She was exhausted.