Shirtless Kurtis is for Godavari, who has frequently threatened to kidnap Kurtis from me or poke me with sticks if I don't update quickly. :-)
The 'dance machine' referred to in this chapter is Konami's Dancing Stage, or Dance Dance Revolution as it is known in the US, or one of the many clones out there. I'm sure you've all seen them. They're fun. Go play on one.
One instance of language in this chapter - but, hey, that's why I made this fic a PG-13. Kurtis strikes me as the swearing type.
Just as I was pondering about how to get the inside angle on Lara, the perfect solution appeared in the form of Bryce. The next thing I knew, I was saying, "Hey Bryce! Hold up! You…wanna drink?"
"Er…I've just spent five hours doing virus scans - why not?" Bryce grinned at me and we went into my room, Bryce making himself at home whilst I searched for the bottle of whisky I'd lately persuaded Hillary to add to his shopping list.
"So," I started, "tell me all about Lara."
"Still deciding whether or not to take her up on the offer, eh?" Bryce downed the whisky I'd poured him in one as I drank my own.
"Something like that," I said, hiding my true intentions which were probably written all over my face by looking down to refill our glasses.
"Well, she's clever, and brave and athletic, as you know. What you may not know is that she can play the piano." Bryce followed this gem with another glass of whisky.
"She can play the piano?" I asked, rather taken aback by the strange remark. Not quite what I was looking for.
"Heart and Soul."
"Now - now you're joking with me." Shot number three.
"Well, what do you want to know?" Bryce asked, holding his glass out for shot four.
"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking," I obliged, filling Bryce's glass whilst keeping mine only three quarters filled. Or was that a quarter empty?
"Well, she's a good person, loyal and true and all that." Bryce's eyes were beginning to take on that glassy look, but there was a way to go yet. I needed him drunk enough to talk without realising my true intentions, but sober enough to be able to string a sentence together. And you, my dear Kurtis, I thought to myself, need to make sure you don't go the same way.
"Yeah, I got all that. What about - what's she like? What makes her tick? You know her pretty well, right?" I said, waving the bottle in gesture instead of continuing to empty it.
"Yeah, I s'pose. She's a bit neurotic…" Bryce trailed off, obviously wary as to how much he should say. Easily solved. I poured him another drink, rejecting my own glass. Yes, he was my friend, but really, what was wrong with getting him drunk? It wasn't like Lara was the kind of girl to be taken advantage of, and what kind of person resented being gotten drunk for free? He should be thanking me, right?
"Neurotic how?" I asked, prodding for details, and Bryce giggled as he thought of the answer. Nearly there.
"Go in her room and move her stuff around when she's not there. She'll go nuts. Nuts." He banged the glass down on the table, and I, not even realising that I was going the same way, giggled sillily. "You're not having another?" Bryce said, tilting his glass to mine and frowning at me.
"Oh, er, yeah." Damn. I drank another shot, grinning at my drinking companion even as I felt the effects kick in. I couldn't be sure, but I may not have been acting that smile.
"And don't tease her about how much time she spends on her hair." Bryce stared fuzzily at the ceiling and stroked his cheek thoughtfully.
"That is a pretty perfect braid," I stated, nodding emphatically. Too emphatically. Dammit. Sober - stay sober!
"All down to hairspray. Eight bottles of it, all lined up in her bathroom." Bryce ran his hands out from a central point as if to demonstrate the shelf, and I couldn't help but laugh at his wobbly movements. "Don't even get me started on the amount of conditioner she gets through."
"No?" We each emptied our glasses once again, and I immediately filled them, downing a second shot with a satisfied gasp as Bryce poured his down his throat. Surely that ought to loosen his tongue enough. I was ok, I was under control. Everything was under control.
"She has this apple conditioner, and it's bright green - looks like toxic waste."
"Maybe it is," I said, less annoyed than I thought I would be to have to blink to bring the far end of the room into focus.
Bryce looked at me, equally glassy eyed, and said, dead straight, "Could account for her boundless energy."
There was silence for a second as I looked at Bryce, and he looked at me. I looked at the whisky, back at Bryce, and mentally shrugged. Fuck it. I laughed hysterically.
It wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been drunk, I was sure of it, but I was drunk, and I was glad, because if I wasn't, then I'd never have had the guts to do what I was doing, and damn, it was fun.
We were in the billiards room, which, under the ownership of Lara and the influence of Bryce, was no longer a billiards room. Sure, there was a billiards table, and it looked like it had been there a heck of a time, but the piano, bookcases and easy chairs that I was sure were supposed to be with it had been replaced with a Playstation hooked up to the biggest TV screen I had ever seen, a small table tennis table and several arcade and pinball machines. What it is to be rich, eh?
It was on one of the arcade machines that Bryce and I were making fools of ourselves then. I had seen them often enough in clubs, bars, bowling alleys and amusement arcades but I'd never been on one because a guy like me did not do things like that. Man, I couldn't believe what I'd been missing out on - those dance machines were fun!! The lights on the machine flashed as the Japanese trance music blared out, and the coloured arrows scrolled up the screen to be accompanied by our appropriate footfalls on the corresponding steps on the base platform in time to the music, but in our inebriated state we were missing most of them, or getting the timing right but the steps wrong, and neither of us really cared, because we were completely wasted and Bryce had already fallen over three times.
Failing yet another stage, the music cut out and the machine yelled a platitude at us as the virtual crowd booed. I flopped back against the safety rail, laughing uncontrollably. I didn't know how long we'd been on the thing, but we were both drenched in sweat and I had an uncontrollable thirst. Soon solving that problem with another swig of vodka, I took off my T-shirt and flung it onto the pool table as Bryce went to open a window.
"I hope we don't wake Lara and Hillary up," Bryce slurred, clambering onto the window ledge to look upwards to Lara's bedroom window above us. I turned to answer him just in time to see him lean too far forward and topple out of the window. "Whoa!"
"Bryce!" I shouted, sniggering at the comical performance, and I rushed forward to see if he was ok. My agility impaired by the bottle of whisky, half a bottle of neat vodka, three alcopops and four snake bites we'd shared, I tripped on the game safety rail and did my own physical comedy as I went flying across the floor and landed flat on my face next to Outrun. Bryce's head appeared in the window as he begun to climb back in and, seeing me lying there giggling and confused, he took his turn to snigger at me. He tripped again as he brought his leg back into the room and did a pretty impressive but very clumsy somersault off the window ledge, landing on his back with his limbs splayed like a rag doll. Rolling onto my back, I clutched my stomach as I broke out into sobs of laughter, and Bryce joined me, clambering to his feet and staggering over to me to help me up before dragging me back onto the dance machine.
"We can't go to bed," he managed to say through his drunken haze, "until we've knocked Lara off the leader's board."
"Right," I replied, nodding seriously and snapping off a sloppy salute, "Right."
Bryce restarted the game, but my foot caught against the base platform as I stepped onto it, and I fell forward, knocking over Bryce. We both landed in a heap half on and half off the dance machine as the music took up its maniacal beat around us, and all we could do was giggle.
I awoke far too early the next morning, and forcing my head up as my body stayed sprawled on the floor or whatever it was I was on, I stared groggily round at my surroundings, trying to work out where I was. Groaning, I realised that I was asleep on the billiards table, and the heap curled up in the chair of the Jurassic Park game I took to be Bryce. I pulled myself off the table, stumbled as my feet hit the floor, and wearily staggered towards the kitchen.
"Bryce," I said, shoving him as I passed, "Get up."
"Hnph," said Bryce.
I managed to make it to the kitchen, relying on the smell of coffee as I followed my nose, keeping my dry and crusty eyes half shut. Lunging for the doorway, I steadied myself against the jamb as I focused on my goal - the coffee - and steeled myself for an unaided hike across the room. I got halfway there when Lara interrupted me.
"Toast?" she said, holding out a piece to me and smiling brightly. I stopped, looked at her blankly for a second at her then completely incomprehensible utterance, and then took one last lunge for the coffee.
Relying solely on the counter to keep myself upright, I shakily poured myself a very large coffee that I knew was going to taste awful, and then, taking a breath, swallowed a mouthful. God, that was disgusting. Unfortunately I knew only too well it was just what I needed the morning after. Bryce. Had to get Bryce coffee. I managed the feat a second time and turned just as he staggered in, rubbing his head and wincing. I held the mug out to him and he took it. "Champion," he croaked, weaving back across the room, falling against the door jamb as he went. I followed him, periodically sipping yet more life giving yet foul tasting coffee. Don't get me wrong, I love the stuff, but after a night like that, nothing tastes good.
"'You two getting on alright, then?" Lara said sweetly as I passed her. Bitch. I stopped, swaying slightly, turned towards her, and did the best I could in my current state - glare daggers. Lara sniggered. Couldn't fight. Needed bed. I tried to leave again, but Lara touched my arm. The sudden movement as my arm moved slightly with her hand caused the world to spin and I nearly threw up.
"About moving in," Lara said, apparently oblivious to my agony, "take as much time as you want to decide. I realise you might not be comfortable deciding now. We don't really know each other that well, do we?"
Erm…you snore, you're paranoid about people touching your stuff, your underwear is all black or peach, you bleached your hair when you were fifteen and it turned out looking like straw, and you shave your legs in the bath.
"No," I said, looking thoughtful as I decided to agree with her.