Chapter 1: Never Drunk Enough

I hadn't thought much of Siingle after I set up my profile. Weeks passed before I went on there again. When I did, I happened to see Robert on there. I look a look at his profile.

It read:

Name: Robert Small

Summary: when the internet gains sentience and decides to destroy us all you know it'll use this information against us, right?

On a Friday Night you are most likely to: make a deal in an alleyway. Have it go badly. Who's the cop? Was it giacomo? I trusted giacomo

If you had one thing to take with you onto a desert island, what would it be: gun

What are your turn-ons: don't talk to me

What did you want to be when you grew up: grifter

What's your favorite movie genre: Italian neo-realism

What's your ideal date: grave robbing

What do you never leave home without: at least four knives

I spend a lot of time thinking about: you ever really look into a rabid animals eyes

After reading it, I blinked in disbelief. I don't know whether to be scared or turned on. Whichever was the case, I decided to message him.

"Hey, Robert, good seeing you again at the cookout. Wanna grab a drink?" After sending, I sit there for a few seconds, waiting for a response. Siingle showed he was connected right now, so he should see my message, right? A few seconds passed and it showed that he read it! (Of course, he could have very well marked it as 'read' without actually reading it.) I sigh. He'll get to it eventually.

I spend the day rather uneventfully. I watched TV, had lunch, went to work, came home and had dinner. It was late at night and I was just about to sit after doing the dishes. My phone buzzed and I remembered I had gotten the Siingle app on my phone.

Robert messaged me back!

"you up?

"wyd"

I reply: "Just chillin"

A moment passes before he replies: "wanna grab a drink"

I leave a note for Andrew and pin it on his doorknob. I then tap out a reply: "Just tell me where and I'm there."

"Jim and Kim's. Get over here."

"On my way."

I decide to walk to the little bar. It was a nice night for walking. Getting there, it felt different from the first time I walked in; it felt better. When I walked in and the smell wafted into my nostrils, however, I remembered where I was and the possible consequences associated with it. When I caught a glimpse of Robert, my hesitation evaporated.

Robert waved at me to come over to his booth. I started walking over, but cringed when I noticed he wasn't alone. Mary, Joseph's wife, was also with him. Fuck, I hate being the third wheel. From the way they greeted me though, it didn't seem that they felt it was the case.

"Come here, so we can get this party started. What do you wanna drink?" asked Robert.

"Whiskey, straight up," I replied.

Robert waves over the bartender and all three of us get whiskey. We all knock our drinks back easily. The whiskey burns in my throat and I can already feel my limbs relaxing. Just as I think we're gonna get settled in, Robert shucks his jacket on and says, "Let's get marching."

"What?" I asked.

"The night's young; we're bar hopping."

Neat. We all walk out of the bar. Since I still don't know the area very well, I follow Robert. "So, where we headin'?" I asked.

"Irish I Were Drinking. It's an Irish pub," replied Robert.

"Lead the way," I said.

Upon walking into the pub, it reminded me a little of Jim and Kim's, except for the Irish memorabilia on the walls. Irish music also played over the speakers. "Next round; what're you havin'?" asked Robert.

"Whiskey hasn't failed me yet," I replied with a wink.

"Let's do it!"

We find a green booth and down our shots. Mary sits next to Robert and I can't help but feel something sick go down my spine. Am I feeling jealous right now? Why?

"Why don't you get us the next round, Carrie?" asked Mary.

"Yeah, sure," I reply. I grab the next round of drinks from the bartender and, as I'm walking back, notice the two are talking and Robert is laughing. This is the first time I've seen legitimate positive emotion from this guy. It's shocking, to say the least. A part of me fumes to know that Mary caused it.

I sit down and we sip our shots. Mary goes into a story about a bake sale and some pot brownies. Robert and Mary are both laughing and I find myself laughing too.

"Hey, Carrie, do you want some weed?" asked Mary.

"What, are you with the feds? I worked hard for what I have and no two-bit snitch is gonna nark on me," I said. "So, you take what you're pushing somewhere else. I'm not about to take the bait on your hook."

"What?" asked Mary.

"You shoot for the fence, you gotta hit the pole." Fuck, how drunk am I?

Despite my moment of self-awareness, Robert starts giggling. How drunk is he is probably the better question.

"Okay, Carrie, you need to dial it back a bit," said Mary.

"I think she's just not used to your humor," said Robert to Mary.

"Fine, fine," replied Mary.

We spent some time watching people and making jokes. It seemed like Mary was here to stay. I had hoped to spend time with just Robert though. I cleared my throat and said to her, "Could you get us the next round?"

"You trying to get rid of me?" asked Mary.

"I, uh…"

"Because if you are, you can just tell me to scram." I floundered for a good response before she said, "It's no problem. You want some time with Robert. The wingman breaks formation to pursue their prey."

"Go with God," said Robert.

"See you later," I replied.

"Deuces, nerds," she replied. She then proceeds to go flirt with a younger guy.

Robert shrugs. "She grows on you," he said.

"Does she though? I feel like she delights in making strangers suffer," I said.

"Well, she does."

"And aren't her and Joseph married?" I asked, nodding to her over at the bar with the helpless looking prey she had acquired.

"She's harmless."

"I dunno. The guy she's hanging onto looks harmed, like he's seen war." Robert laughs at that.

"Hey, still got a little wild in you?"

"You know it," I replied with a wink.

He orders us some shots and we down them one by one. Why? 'Cause we're the coolest people in there. I thought about making conversation, but then remembered what his profile said. He's probably not much of a talker.

On one of my shots, Robert comes out with, "So, you ever kill a man?" I do a literal spit take into my booth and gag a little.

"What?!" I asked.

"You know, watch the life drain from someone's eyes. It's not just their life, you know. It's their hopes and dreams, memories and experience. Gone."

"Uh… no…?"

"Great, me neither."

I knock back another shot and so does he. "I'm just messing with you," he said. I laugh nervously. "Or am I?" I make a worried sound and sip more whiskey.

A few shots in and I realize, "Wow, this whiskey's hitting me hard."

"You betcha," Robert said with a wink. He throws his jacket over one of his shoulders and says loudly, "LET'S ROLL!" He takes a moment before saying, "Sorry. Whiskey. Inside voices. Let's roll."

"What about Mary?" I asked, drawing out the what.

"Mary'll be just fine." We look over and she's singing "Happy Birthday" to a poor sap whose birthday it is not.

We walk outside and I am having the hardest time walking straight or walking without wanting to fall on my face. I try my best to hide my drunkenness though since I wanted to hang with Robert still. "Where to?" I asked.

"You'll see," he replied. We walk until we reach a run-down strip mall with various small shops that all look on the edge of bankruptcy. Among these shops is a liquor store. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

When he returns, I notice that he has two wine bottles. "Cheers," he says while handing me one. We sit on the curb and drink. I was not expecting to go from hard liquor to wine.

I take a sniff and a small sip. "White zinfandel?" I asked, surprised at his choice.

I must have been giving him a look in addition to the query, because he got a little defensive. "It's delicious, fruity, and refreshing. Don't judge me."

"Fair enough," I replied.

We sip on wine for a little bit before Robert suggests: "Let's throw rocks at shit." Before I have a chance to reply or remotely react, he picks up a small rock and hurls it at a stop sign. "That felt good." He presses a stone into my hand and I can't help but think how warm his hand is, even though we're both drunk and probably both burning furnaces. "Now, you try."

"Uh…" I say, noncommittally.

"Come on, with feeling," he coaxes.

"Uh… I'M SORRY!" I shout, hurling the rock. It goes over the stop sign and into the window of a parked car, leaving a small crack. Shit.

"Shit. Run!" He grabs my wrist and we run into an alleyway, a distance away from the car. I still have the wine in the other hand, I realize. We both pant from the adrenaline and fear of getting in trouble. "Maybe we strike rock throwing from the to-do list…"

"Agreed." Did it, done it, woo boy.

It's then my stomach rumbles.

"Let's get pizza," Robert said after hearing that.

"Cool," I replied. "What'd you have in mind?"

"I know just the place." He leads me through more alleyways until we emerge by a small pizza joint: "Pete's Piece a' Pizza". "Ta-da," said Robert. The smell of the fresh-baked pizza had me near drooling.

Robert went to the counter to order. "Can I get two slices of Hawaiian pizza? Oh, wait, Carrie, you're cool with pineapple on your pizza, right?" he asked.

"Of course," I replied. Warm pineapple was delicious, whether it was on pizza or a kabob. When we were given our slices, we walked into the alleyway again to eat. I took a bite and it was so good, I found myself having to suck in my own drool. I had the slice gone in far less bites than it would have normally taken me. "I love pineapple on pizza."

"You said it," replied Robert. He looked at me with a smirk on his face. I blushed and disposed of my empty plate in a nearby garbage bin. Robert soon followed suit.

"Thank you. I feel a lot better now," I said shyly.

"You and me both," he replied. As we walked through the alley way, we came upon a door that was slightly ajar. We heard noise and I wondered what it was. "Got anymore of that wild in ya?" Robert looked at me expectantly.

"Absolutely." We quietly slid inside. It's mostly dark, with only some flickering lights. As we walked further, Robert hushed me. "What?" my volume did not match his. He hushed me louder and I giggled. We came to the end of the short hallway and found ourselves in a movie theater with a movie playing on the screen. "Did we seriously just sneak into a movie theater?"

Robert hushed me again. "No talking during the movie!" he added.

The movie theater turned out to be mostly empty. The only other people there were a couple of teens who looked at us oddly. He leads me near the center seats: the perfect spot to watch a movie in the theater. Too close, you're craning your neck to look at the screen. Too far and, well, you're not there for the movie anymore, are you?

The movie seems to be a rom-com. This guy is running through New York to get to a gal to tell her he loves her. "Kiss already!" said Robert.

"There's nobody to kiss yet, dude. Do you want him to kiss the taxi driver?" I asked, holding back my laughter.

Robert thought for a moment. "Hell, yeah," he replied.

The kids, apparently, got tired of us talking and tried to hush us. Of course, the kid that elected to do this I recognized. "Hey, look, it's Ernest! Hi, Ernest!" I called out while waving. He turned back around, embarrassed. I turned back to Robert. "Has he kissed anyone yet?" I asked.

It turned out he had kissed someone. He confessed his love for her in a corny romantic movie setting and they both spewed corny, predictable romantic movie dialogue. There's some context I'm missing, I know, but even if I had watched the movie from the beginning, I'm sure it would have set up this very ending.

"Boo! Love is dead!" said Robert. I burst out laughing, whether from the absurdity of the statement or how closely it matched my thoughts on the movie.

"Shut up! It's beautiful!" said Ernest.

"No, you shut up," I said. We all got quiet as the credits started. I got cozy in my seat. This was nice. Usually, when going to the movie, I would follow the lead of my friend/husband before getting up. Maybe there was an easter egg in the credits and we had to wait to see it. Sometimes, when Daniel was still alive, we would watch the credits to count how many people had our names.

Robert, on the other hand, took a different approach to watching the credits. While I was counting the number of times "Carrie" showed up in the credits, Robert was thanking every cast and crew member. I never thought about doing so before. I guess movie makers do work hard to entertain, even if the movie's plot is predictable or cliché. After the MPAA logo and such pass by, we leave the movie theater.

As we walk out and down the alleyway, sharing the last bottle of wine, we get stopped. "Hey, assholes!" Then, without warning, a rock flies toward us and hits me on the knee. I cry out and drop to the ground. It hurt so much, I nearly started crying. That's when Ernest and his friends show up, blocking our exit.

"Oh, what do you guys want?" asked Robert, his tone dismissive.

"Why'd you throw a rock at me? That really hurt," I said.

Ernest didn't look like he cared as he tossed another rock up and down in his hand. "You ruined my theater-going experience. Now, you have to pay," he said. He chucked another rock toward me, but I dived out of the way in time to avoid getting hit.

Meanwhile, Robert scoffed, "We ruined it for you? That movie was pretty crappy in the first place."

"Hey! You take that back! That was a beautiful love story with really genuine acting," said Ernest.

"You call that good acting? What classicist mainstream slop have you been served your entire life? Haven't you ever seen any of Michael Powell's work? A Matter of Life and Death, 1946? That's easily the toughest five minutes of love you'll ever witness."

Whoa, I thought.

"Listen, man-" Ernest started.

"No, you listen," Robert cut him off. "That popcorn-ass drivel the mass media is shoving down your throat will only make you dumber and sadder. You of all people should strive for a higher standard in the art you consume. Your name is Ernest Hemingway, for cryin' out loud."

"Oh, no! Now you've done it!" said one of Ernest's friends.

Ernest rushes toward Robert. I stand between the two, but Ernest just kicks me in the knee that he threw the rock at earlier. This time, tears do come to my eyes. "Fuck, my knee," I said, falling down again.

Robert steps around me and looms over Ernest. I can feel anger radiating from Robert. I'm scared of what will happen, but I'm also scared to try to stand again. My knee really hurts. I curse under my breath to try to make the pain less.

"All right, buddy. Talk like a punk, get hit like a punk," said Robert. He takes a boxer's stance. "Queensbury rules. Three-minute rounds with one-minute rests in-between. No low blows, fish-hooks, j-grabs, or high blows."

"What?" asked Ernest, looking genuinely confused and bit afraid.

"And don't even think about pulling an illegal turnstile. That's an automatic deduction of three points."

"I-"

"You'll have to designate a second if you're unable to fulfill your role as main duelist. One of your friends over there looks like he has enough youthful vivacity to handle it."

"Hey, man," said the kid Robert indicated. "I don't want to get dragged into this. That movie sucked."

"It's too late," said Robert. "You two are blood bound. If he dies, you die. Sorry, I don't make the rules. Talk to Queensbury."

"We're just… gonna go," said Ernest. He and his friends walked away, watching Robert warily.

Robert called out to them, "The Queensbury association will hear about this!" After a thought, he added, "And consume better content!"

After they were out of sight and earshot, Robert turned to me and crouched down to my level. My knee was still throbbing, but I was more concerned about what just happened. What could have happened? "Were you about to actually fight that kid?" I asked carefully.

"Are you kidding me? I would never hit a child. That would be despicable," he replied. He gave a short laugh, "You throw the rules at 'em though, they always bolt. Nobody wants a Queensbury-sanctioned throwdown… but, full disclosure, I made half of that up."

"Wow."

"See? You don't even have to know the rules. You just make 'em up. C'mon, let's get outta here." He stands up and offers me a hand. I start to stand, but cry out and collapse. He eases me back to a sitting position. He gently touches my knee and I whimper in pain. "You mind if I get a better look?" I start rolling up my pant leg. I ease it over my knee and notice it is red and does not look right. "Shit, your kneecap's dislocated. I can set it now, but it'll hurt."

"How do you know how to do that stuff?"

He doesn't answer, but instead shifts to: "I'm going to call an ambulance. They can set a proper splint and get you painkillers. I'm sorry."

"For what?" The question barely leaves me before I feel a sharp pain in my leg. While I had been looking at him and listening, he had gotten a grip on my knee and set it. I was full-on crying at this point. He hushed me and held me as he called an ambulance.

While we waited, he said, "I'm so sorry. I get really into the art of filmmaking when I drink."

"It's okay. It's cool how much you like movies. I'm sure you could show me a lot."

"You ever see any Sam Fuller?"

"I haven't."

"Fuller is cash."

We go quiet for a moment and I realize how much he's done for me tonight. "Thanks for defending my honor," I said quietly.

He scoffs, then laughs. "It's a little strange when you say it that way, but, sure, why not?"

We heard the sirens come close and I instinctively grabbed onto Robert. "Could you stay with me for a little longer?" I asked.

"Sure, no problem."

"Knee injury aside, I had fun tonight."

"Me too."

Robert stayed with me until I got set up with a splint and such. They only wanted me to stay overnight, then I could go home. Andrew was really worried, and we got into a small argument over how irresponsible I had been. Then, we laughed at how ridiculous it was that the roles were reversed. I didn't see Robert after Andrew came in, but I really wanted to see him again. Maybe this time, there would be no injuries and a little less trouble. I had to admit, it was a lot of fun hanging with Robert. I decided that I would message him that I was okay. Then, after a few weeks' time, I would message him and see if he wanted to hang out again. Yeah. I had fun. What could go wrong?

That's all for now. Please keep reading and reviewing, thanks :)