Empty beer bottles were scattered all over the living room floor, along with two half-empty whiskey bottles in the kitchen sink. Two blond girls were curled up on the large sofa, not wearing any other clothing than their underwear.
The TV was turned on and tuning a live performance of Aerosmith in Vegas. Joseph picked up the remote and turned it off. He looked around, scanning the mess.
Clothes piled on the armchair, paperwork littering the table beside the sofa. Something was wrong, dead wrong.
Joseph had driven this morning to go pick up Darius from his house but his girlfriend didn't even come to answer the door. Music was playing loud and he walked around the house to peak in the windows.
Curtains were pulled together and it seemed like the house was empty yet he saw movements. He had his phone, constantly redialing Darius's number but he didn't pick up. When Joseph finally gave up and started driving back to his place, he remembered that his drummer had rented an apartment downtown so he could practice without disturbing his girl and the neighbors.
And there he was now, pushing bottles out of his way while searching for his drummer. At first, he thought that the girls had moved in there while the band was on tour but that sounded ridiculous. Never in his reasonable mind, would Darius share his space with other women.
Joseph picked up a full beer can and laid it on the kitchen island, slamming it harder against the ceramic surface than he intended. The girls didn't even move, rather just took a deeper breath and snuggled slightly closer together.
"Oh, cmon!" Joseph pleaded, running his fingers through his slightly wet hair.
"God, is it you? Cause if it is, I am here for taking." Darius mumbled somewhere down the hallway to Joseph's left.
"Men usually don't call me god, girls do!"
"Huh?"
Joseph shook his head, grinning ear to ear. It was a fucking pun joke but knowing what kind of headache Darius would be suffering from, Joseph just kept his mouth shut while he walked down the hall and found his drummer sleeping in the tub.
"What the fuck man?" Joseph almost screamed at him.
"I fucked up."
"Yeah, I can see that." Joseph walked into the bathroom and sat down on the toilet bowl. "I went to your house and there..."
"Don't tell me, she tossed my stuff out of the window?" Darius lifted his head slowly, eyes red and puffy.
"No-oo," he answered, eyes narrowing.
"Was she even there?"
"I guess. I don't know. She didn't come to the door." Joseph replied.
"I bet she is. She locked herself in there." Darius let his body sink deeper into the empty tub and massaged the hurting places on his forehead.
Joseph heard a rumble going off in the living room as if the women Darius had partied the night earlier, woke up.
"What the hell happened?" Hewitt asked and watched his bandmate crack his neck and then knuckles.
"After we got back, I didn't go home straight away. I knew Paula would be pissed since I didn't reply to her calls or messages while we were on tour." He replied and earned a curious look from Hewitt.
"No, don't ask why. It's complicated and poisonous topic, issue... whatever someone would call it. So after the car dropped me off at the apartment here, I called her." Darius sat up in the tub, rubbing his knuckles.
"And?"
"I was right, she was pissed as fuck and I didn't want to deal with her at that moment. I went to the store, bought beer and whiskey and at some point called the girls. I don't remember if I did anything, I mean have sex with them but I am pretty sure they had sex with each other." Darius huffed out a laugh, dimples appearing.
"I am pretty sure of that as well!"
There was some noise, then the apartment's door slamming shut.
"Thank God, they're gone. I didn't want to get out of this until they leave." Darius got to his feet and climbed out from the dirty tub. It was clear that no one ever cleaned this place, the pile of clothes and smell gave it away as soon as you stepped into through the door.
"Should I call someone?" Hewitt asked, just a bit concerned.
"Nah, I will get all figured out. Not your problem, man." The extremely hangover drummer patted his friend on his shoulder and stumbled out from the bathroom.
He slid his shoes over the floor, calming aside the empty bottles and dirty clothes.
"What a fucking mess."
He kicked a can and it went flying straight into a bucket at the corner. "Score!" He yelled but then buried his face into his hands, clearly trying to numb a headache.
"Are you fit for a rehearsal? Darius, we only get today to get the band together and take these couple of hours to set the playlist!" Hewitt stood by the door, waiting for his reply.
Darius looked around for a second, lifted some stuff off the sofa and grabbed a small leather bag. He hung it over his shoulder.
"Let's get the hell out of here!"
