I might have been new to the band, but even when we’d been in Vegas, I hadn’t seen Rebel drink this much.
“Wisdom, strength, and endurance,” I explained, smiling fondly at the memory. “There’s one etched into the back of my grandfather’s pocket watch. When I was a kid, and wouldn’t stopinterrupting conversations, he’d hand it to me. I never fiddled with it, just traced over the pattern. It was my first tattoo.”
“Somone waited ‘til he was legal,” Rebel said, voice already a bit slurred and seriously, it was starting to feel like he’d forgotten Knightly was at the table, and the man was sure as hell heated about it too.
The looks he shot me were pure aggravation.
“Had to,” I admitted. “I promised gramps.”
The new bottle arrived, and Knightly immediately started pouring, despite how glassy-eyed he and Rebel already were. I didn’t care if Knightly had an issue with it; I tapped Rebel’s hand to draw his attention.
“Slow down, Rebel, seriously,” I warned. “Before someone has to toss you over their shoulder and carry you out of here.”
“Umm,” Rebel moaned, needing a few seconds before he was fully able to focus on me. “Yeah, slowing down might be good.”
“Dude, no, slowing down is always bad,” Knightly declared as his frown deepened to the point where I feared laser beams would shoot out of his eyes and fry me on the spot.
Rebel eyed the drink in front of him, then me, and I shook my head, hoping he wasn’t too impaired to make good decisions; otherwise, I was going to have to find another way of cutting him off.
“I’m drunk,” Rebel declared and slid the drink over to Knightly.
“Hardly,” Knightly said, sliding it back. “I’m pretty sure the term is blissfully buzzed.”
“Mmm, that should be a song title or something,” Rebel muttered.
“Then drink up and write it,” Knightly encouraged. “You never know, it might turn out better than Desperate and Deranged did.”
Rebel’s fingers closed around the glass before he shook his head and shoved it back to the center of the table this time. “There was puke on the pages.”
“Yeah, but the song is still one of your band’s top hits,”Knightly pointed out.
Just as I was about to snap at him and smash the fucking glass on the floor so Rebel would stop being tempted, Rebel swiveled in his seat and tugged lightly on the back of Sully’s duster. The man half turned, still keeping one eye on the room as he peered down at Rebel.
“I’m drunk,” Rebel said, words beginning to slur.
"Yeah, you are, kid,” Sully said.
Rebel nodded, and I swear it was like he was looking for help from Sully, or guidance. “I shouldn’t drink anymore.”
“No, you should not,” Sully and I both confirmed for him.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Knightly complained. “This is the first chance we’ve had to sit face to face and catch up in almost a year and I still haven’t gotten the chance to tell you about the project I have in mind for us.”
I was really starting to hate this guy. Not only that, but the way he was pressing Rebel to drink was setting off warning bells that made me want to get him the hell out of there.
“My catching receptors are broken,” Rebel managed, switching the subject away from alcohol. “Did you already tell me what you’ve been working on?”
Good for him.
Just in case, I drew the drink closer to me and further out of his grasp so he wouldn’t be tempted or forget his resolve not to drink as the conversation went on.
“I was trying to when you got a sudden fascination for Celtic knots,” Knightly said as he raised his own glass and drained it “So look, a couple months ago I was out on the balcony smoking up and watching the ants.”
He paused to refill his drink, having to concentrate as he poured so he wouldn’t spill it.
"Sounds…fun?"
Knightly snorted at that and shook his head. “It was boring as fuck, just like your buddy over there holding your drink hostage.”