THE SMITHS

Chapter Forty two

It turned out the Smith brothers also had the exact same level of alcohol tolerance because after the waterworks died down and as Cameron begins to down glass after glass of the numerous bottles presented on the table, Byron joins in and in a matter of minutes, the brothers were shitfaced. With Cameron unable to keep his eyes open for longer than a few seconds and Byron shaking his head on intervals as if to clear his continuously blurring vision.

Cameron begins to search his pockets after a while and he pulls out his phone, squinting at the device as he continuously sniffles.

Byron huffs, calling out to his brother, "Whaddya doing?" He asks, Cameron looks up at him, hair falling over his eyes as he blinks almost sleepily.

" 'm trying to call" a hiccup, "Call Mister Jack, but it's n...." his words trails off as he continues to scroll on his screen, fingers uncharacteristically slow.

"Wha- whyyyyy?" He ends up whining loudly when his phone is suddenly snatched out of his hands.

Byron giggles, eyes shining with excitement as he shushes his brother with a finger over his lips, Cameron's lips curves in confusion, "Leave him," he waves his hands around before he leans in as if wanting to tell a secret, "I know a better person to call" he slurs before grinning widely as he relaxes back into his seat.

His phone is later brought out to the open, he unlocks it with much difficulty and when he struggles to navigate around his own screen, he tosses the devices unto the already clustered table with a frustrated groan.

Soon, his eyes finds one of the bartenders and he calls the jittery looking boy over.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Mhm," Byron groans, pointing at the still lit screen on the table, "hey, can you do me a favor, please grab that and there's a number......" He yawns, sleep trying to take a hold of him as he pieces the words together, "The contact, it's saved, 'Future wifey', dial that and get her to come here." At the end of his words, Byron had already retrieved the phone and was forcing it into the bartender's palms, who looked at both drunk men with wide eyes.

Cameron squints at those words, ".....who?" He questions again.

Byron's face looks like it could illuminate a hundred streets the way it lit up as he whispers, albeit loudly, "My future wifeeeeyyy. But she doesn't know it yet"

Cameron tilts his head, looking at him like he had grown two heads. Even in his drunken state, he was well aware of the fact that his brother had never gotten serious enough with anyone to get to that level, and what the hell did he even mean with that last sentence "That..... Doesn't make any sense." He manages to say before his head falls back unto the table, Byron did not take offense, instead, he follows his brother to lean on his folded arms against the table.

"That's okay, it doesn't have to. Nothing makes sense when I'm around her. I think I'm in love, bro," he sighs almost dreamily before correcting himself quite seriously, -as seriously as a drunk Byron could get, "I know I'm in love."

At that, Cameron's ears perk. He sits up to look at his brother, Byron now had his eyes closed as if he was slowly slipping into a dreamless sleep. That was when Cameron's brain, -surprisingly not as active when he was drunk, pieces together a fact. Sure, he might not be entirely well versed in the matters of the heart, but one of those sentences resonated with him way too much, it repeated continuously in his head. The bartender's voice sounded distant as he began to speak quietly, obviously not talking to either men, probably calling the one Byron had demanded he did.

Suddenly, Cameron was banging at the table with newfound determination, "I'd like to call someone too then." He announces to no one in particular before bringing his phone to his face again.