P.I.

Whiskey Wednesday

"What is it?" I ask him.

"I got the IP address of the computer she sent the email from."

"And?" I prompt.

He rolls his eyes at me. "A simple 'thank you' would suffice. I discovered that she was using a company computer, somewhere nearby. Looks like the name of the company is Felix Global Group. Ever heard of them?" he looked up from the computer, adjusting his glasses.

"Can't say I have." I say.

"Well, no matter..." he murmurs, typing away on the keyboard. "...it looks like they're just another moneymaking machine. You know, one-percenter business-types that have their fingers in everything." he says, wrinkling his nose.

"Sounds like you have a grudge." I raise a brow.

He sighs. "A long and unimportant story of many different occasions that have surmounted to an overall hatred of elitist billionaires." he said quickly, dismissing with a wave of his hand.

"All right. So, what would Lucy be doing there, late at night?" I ask.

"I was about to ask you the same thing." Julian says.

"I don't know. I need to meet with her again. There is definitely something she's not telling me."

"I'll say." Julian snorts.

There is a moment of pause.

"You know what helps me think?" I ask Julian, going into my kitchen and opening the only cabinet that hasn't gathered dust.

"Me?" he queries cheekily.

I snort. "Besides you." I take out two clean-looking glasses, and a bottle of whiskey. I place it on the coffee table.

"Oh." he says, and looks up at me. That kind of nervous look that I hated.

"Don't give me that look."  I say, irritated.

"So I take it you've stopped going to those meetings, then." he sighs.

"Psh. Never went." I tell him, pouring drinks.

"So, that token on your night table is nothing?" he asks.

"It doesn't mean anything to me, if that's what you mean."

"That's just great." he says, running a hand through his hair, clearly disappointed.

"The hell's wrong with you? It's just a drink." I say, pushing a glass towards him.

He just stares back at me in quiet anger.

"Oh, stop with the judgmental staring! I'll slap those glasses clear off your face if you keep it up." I down the drink in one gulp.

He sighs. "You..." he shakes his head, turning back to his computer.

"It's Whiskey Wednesday." singsong-y, I crack a smile.

He throws his hands up in the air in exasperation. "And tomorrow is Tequila Thursday! Don't forget Liver-Failure Friday!" he snaps.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Oh, please. You're no fun."

"And since when is cirrhosis fun?" he deadpans.

I take the drink I poured for him and drink it. "When you're going nowhere fast and have got to pass the time."

"Jesus." he mumbles disapprovingly.

"Oh, come on!" I protest. "Even Shit Head likes whiskey."

His jaw drops. "You gave your cat booze?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, I'm joking!" I sigh, slouching back on the couch.

"Your sobriety isn't a joke!" he insists.

I scoff. "I will need many more drinks than this to get through a visit from my mother." I say, staring at the bottle longingly.

"What? Your mom is coming?" he asks, looking confused and a little scared. He knew my mother and I weren't previously known to get along. He then shrugs after seeing my bland reaction. "Good luck."

"I'll drink to that."

~~~~

So I finally got this chapter out. Hoping to keep this going and draw a crowd. I like this story and find the 500-600 word chapters easy to write. I may go back and edit. Here's to the coming new year!