The Designated Driver

Part 1: The Club

I usually don't like to go out on Saturday nights. Well, not where my friends like to go anyways. Clubbing isn't really my thing. It seems like every club we pass has a huge, glowing red "DO NOT ENTER, BLAKE" sign stamped right over it.

I preferred bars. Quiet ones, where the television droned on in the background and flipped from channel to channel at each request. Where middle aged men sat in booths, all trying to get the last chip from the basket meant for two sitting on their table. Where I could quietly sip on a cider and observe the world around me. 

Peaceful atmosphere.

Since I wasn't one for the wild nights that Charlie, Paul, and Two planned out every weekend, they took it upon themselves to hand me the reigns of the transportation: designated driver. 

Now, it wasn't like how you think. The guys weren't too rude about it. I pretty much wore the DD hat proudly, like the protector of the group. My friends were actually quite nice people.

Charlie had just finished his bachelor's degree up at the university. He was the only one of us to attend schooling after we finished the twelfth grade. He was smart enough, and studied engineering or math or some bullshit like that. I always tuned out when he started rambling on about his classes. 

Paul didn't talk much, but he was the oldest of the group. He always hummed his replies and nodded his head along with whatever crazy ideas the other two were coming up with. I always thought Paul was just in it for the free rides and the companions out drinking, or maybe that he was not the brightest crayon in the box and stuck around with us to seem a bit smarter. 

Two isn't his real name. His name is Paul, but the actual Paul is older, so we let him keep his name. Two doesn't mind. He's too busy cracking jokes and making me piss myself if I've had one too many drinks. He's the youngest of the group, but that doesn't stop him from trying to pull stuff over on us. I also don't think he'll ever learn how to pick up a lady.

"Heyo, Blakey!" Two grabbed my shoulders from behind, his grinning face popping up in my peripherals. "You ready to go in?"

I shrugged him off and gave him a look. "Yeah, the car is parked in 3C."

"3C?!" Charlie huffed. "I don't think I'm gonna be able to make it to 3C." He wiggled his eyebrows at Two, who barked out a laugh. 

"You'll be lucky to make it past the front door!" He gasped with laughter. Paul snorted from somewhere behind me.

We showed the bouncer our IDs and then slipped inside, the booming music already making me on edge. "I need a drink." I mumbled out.

Two nodded his agreement and shoved me in the direction of the bar. We made our way over, all ordering our drinks.

Paul ordered three shots of tequila, slammed them down in three seconds flat, and then made his way into the throng of people on the dance floor. We wouldn't see him for the rest of the night unless we wound up in the bathroom at the same point in time.

Charlie gave his dazzling smile to the bartender and, of course, she giggled and gave him his drink for free. Whatever it was, he drank it down, paid for another, and then sat on a stool next to me. I already knew his game plan.

I turned around to face Two, trying to ignore Charlie, but the little rascal was long gone, probably humping some girl on the dance floor.

"So," my friend behind me started.

I whirled around. "Save it, Charles."

He held up his hands defensively. "Sorry, Blake." His sly grin crossed his face. "But looks like you don't need my help, big guy." He winked, slipped off the stool, and, like the snake he was, slithered into the crowd, no doubt looking for tonight's victim.