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Drink Up And Go Home
Violet
Pressure does strange things to these people.
They spend eighteen hours a day dealing with matters of life and death, or death and taxes. It's not easy. When there's time to stop, they all have things they want to forget, to fight off, to force down. And it's not easy to stop thinking when you're one of the smartest people in the world.
Sometimes, they drink too much.
That night Josh was already well into his second beer. Sam seemed comparatively sober, but there was a little telltale color showing along his cheekbones. Bonnie and Carol watched MSNBC on the small TV set above the bar, invented a drinking game, and quickly wound up half-cocked. Ginger drew the short straw for designated driver and sulked in the corner with a virgin strawberry daiquiri. Toby, being Toby, drank steadily and held it well. He certainly hid it better than C.J. and Donna, who decided early on that the temperature of the room was too hot and repaired to the ladies' room to take off their stockings.
"We're bucking the patriarchy," C.J. explained upon their return, wadding up the nylon and stuffing it into her purse.
"That's us," Donna agreed, dropping onto the chair at Josh's left. "Sisters united for a better--"
"Gin and tonic," C.J. interrupted, and took her glass to the table in the back. She folded her arms and looked at Sam suspiciously. "What are you doing?"
"Drinking," Sam said simply.
"Drinking what?"
He lowered his eyes. Toby chuckled. "He's drinking a mint julep."
C.J. stared at him. "A mint julep? All this time I've known you, have you also been a Confederate belle?"
Sam looked up defiantly. "There are a lot of things I've never tried, C.J. I could have died and never tasted a mint julep."
"He had an amaretto sour before this," Toby said helpfully.
"You're a girl-drink drunk," C.J. scolded Sam. "Get out of my spot."
He scooted off the bench and into a chair. "I don't know why people drink these, except it really is fun to say 'mint julep'."
"Hardball!" Carol called from the bar, sending herself and Bonnie into hysterical laughter.
Donna stealthily reached out and snagged Josh's beer for herself. "Hey!" he yelped, as she took a swallow.
"I'm bucking the patriarchy," she said, setting the bottle down.
"All of us?" Josh grinned. "You'll get worn--ow!" He rubbed his nose where Donna had tweaked it.
"That's what you get," she retorted. "Do we have any pretzels?"
"Ginger took them," Sam told her.
"And I'm keeping them," Ginger shouted from the corner.
"For how long?" Donna wanted to know.
"Forever."
"She complains now," Sam said, shooting a look at Ginger. "Tomorrow morning she'll be gloating at our pain."
"Your pain," Toby corrected him. "I don't get hung over."
C.J. coughed. "I seem to remember--"
"That wasn't a hangover, that was a head cold." Toby glared at her. "Anyway, I'm not like you and your friend Josh here."
"I'm not--" Josh began to protest.
Donna cut him off. "You are."
"In a big way," C.J. agreed. "Sam, how can you get hung over from creme de menthe?"
"You drink grasshoppers."
"But I can hold them." She sat up straight. "I may have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a concrete elephant."
Toby groaned. "You mangled that."
C.J. rolled her eyes. "Can you hear my heart breaking?"
"Are they fighting?" Bonnie wondered, spinning around on her barstool.
"When are they not?" Carol replied.
"Good point. Also, you know what else?"
"What?"
"Hardball!"
They erupted into giggles again.
* * *
After another round, Josh wandered over to the jukebox and hovered over it, staring at it bleakly for a long time. "Donna!"
"What?"
"I need you!"
She sighed and crossed the room to him. "What?"
He pointed unhappily at the display. "I don't know who any of these people are."
"That's because your musical taste grounded out around 1978," Donna said.
"What's wrong with that?"
"For one thing, I turned six that year."
"That's disgusting."
"You're telling me."
He studied the song listings. "What's J-Lo?"
"Jennifer Lopez. She's an actress."
"Then what's she doing in--"
"She also sings."
"That's never a good sign." Josh grimaced. "And I don't know what Backstreet Boys are, and I don't think I want to. Wait. Here. This is a classic!"
Donna peered over his shoulder. "Oh, God. Please, don't--"
He dropped his quarters into the machine with a loud clink. "Dance with me!"
"You're drunk. Drunk and certifiable." She stepped back. "You can't dance to this song."
"Sure you can." He took her hands and swung around. "Cherokee people!"
"Cherokee tribe," Sam yelled back.
"So proud to live!"
"So proud to die!"
"Which may happen sooner than you think," Toby said, fixing Sam with an icy look.
"It's a classic," Sam told him mildly.
"Beethoven is classic. 'Indian Reservation' is..." He waved a hand in the air.
"Painful," Bonnie supplied.
"Nacreous," C.J. offered.
"Painful," Carol added.
"I said that."
"Did you?" Carol looked anxious. "Ginger? Did she?"
"She said that," Ginger affirmed, nibbling a pretzel.
"They're losing it," C.J. declared, watching Josh twirl Donna, who was smiling in spite of herself.
"It's lost," Toby grumbled, standing up. "I'm going to see a man about a horse."
As he walked away, Sam ran a hand through his hair and looked at C.J. "Nacreous?"
"It felt right at the moment."
"Are you and...." He struggled to formulate the right sentence. "Is there a thing?"
She rested her chin in her hand and smiled wryly. "No, there's not a 'thing', vocabulary boy."
Sam surreptitiously switched his drink with Toby's. "I don't mean to pry."
"He's going to notice," C.J. warned him.
"You think?"
"Do I think a tequila sunrise tastes different from Jack Daniels? Yeah, Sam, I kind of do."
"I'm kind of drunk," he observed.
"No kidding." C.J. patted his shoulder. "Go dance with Ginger."
"Ginger hates us tonight."
"Okay, go dance with Bonnie."
Sam looked across the room. "Bonnie would appear to be dancing with Carol already."
"Then go dance with Josh, for crying out loud."
He picked up Toby's glass and got to his feet, a trifle shakily. "You shouldn't lie, C.J. There's a thing."
"There is no thing. There is nothing."
"Hey," Josh cried out gleefully. "They've got Foreigner!"
Donna let out an exaggerated groan. "This is Hell."
Sam ambled over. "So have another beer."
* * *
"So what I want to know," Bonnie said, wavering a bit, "is who's running the country if we're all in here?"
"Leo," Josh and Sam said at the same time.
"Jinx."
They both turned and looked at Donna. "What?"
"You said the same time at the same thing. The same -- you owe me a Coke," she concluded triumphantly. "Preferably with rum in it."
"I don't think that's how it works," Carol ventured.
"I trust her," Josh said, draping an arm around Donna's shoulders. "This is a wise and wonderful woman. She knows things. If she says I owe her a drink, I owe her a drink. Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"Buy Donna a drink."
"Something's definitely wrong with that," Sam murmured, swiveling his seat a little. "I just can't put my finger on it."
"Oh, cry me a river."
In the back of the room, C.J. toyed with the ice in an empty glass. "You think he'd approve of this?"
"Sure."
"Really?"
Toby shrugged. "I have no idea who we're talking about."
"Leo," she clarified.
"Why wouldn't he approve?"
"We've all had an awful lot to drink."
"There's a vast difference."
She chuckled. "Isn't that the punch line to a joke?"
"If it is, it must not be a very funny joke."
"You don't think Leo would have a problem with the way we're spending our recreational time?"
He frowned. "Leo would let us know if he did."
"I suppose." She shifted slightly. Toby's fingertips accidentally brushed the hem of her skirt and the side of their knee. After a split second, it happened again, not as accidentally. C.J. studied his expression. "Toby? The way we're spending our recreational time?"
"Yeah."
"Except we're not," she said. "We said so."
"I know," he said, but his right hand was traveling slowly to the inside of her bare knee.
She decided he must be more drunk than he appeared, because it could only have been the alcohol that let him detach himself from their surroundings. And she decided she must be more drunk than she'd realized, because aside from a brief flicker of Dear-God-We're-In-A-Public-Place panic she didn't particularly want to stop him. He was exploring the smooth skin of her inner thigh, and she leaned back and rested her head against the wall.
Without looking at her directly, he studied her and learned that she had a very good poker face. He knew he was drunk and going considerably too far. He knew the alcohol was mostly responsible for the way she was responding, and he knew their colleagues, their friends, were sitting a few yards away, even if they weren't looking in their direction. And he knew it was a mistake. And he knew he couldn't stop touching her. His hand slipped further up. She relaxed into it, and laid a hand on top of his knee, tensing and slackening with the movement of his fingers.
Two things happened at once. In the middle of an animated conversation, Carol wobbled off her stool and thudded to the floor, producing a chorus of laughter in that part of the room. Under the table, C.J. suddenly pushed Toby's hand away. He gave her a questioning look. Her eyes were clouded, but her movements were decisive. She adjusted her skirt as she stood up, and walked briskly across the room and out the door. Toby drained the liquor in his glass, thoughtfully, then got up and followed her.
"Are they fighting?" Donna wondered as she saw them go by.
"When are they not?" Bonnie replied, helping Carol clamber back up onto her seat.
"Toby's in trouble," Josh sang out, drumming his fingers on the bar.
"C.J.'s a big liar," Sam said. "She lies."
Josh guffawed. "Ten bucks if you say that to her face."
"No way."
"Why not?"
"'Cause she's a big liar."
"Yeah, she could probably take you out," Josh agreed.
"Any of us could take any of you out," Donna said, poking Josh gently in the arm. "Women have a higher tolerance for pain."
Josh scoffed. "In Donna-World, maybe."
"What happened to 'this is a wise woman who knows things'?" Sam inquired, as he tried to catch the bartender's attention.
"I said that?"
"You did," Donna said, poking him again. "And you can't have any more beer."
"I'll have what Sam's having, then." Josh swayed a little and leaned over to scrutinize Sam's drink. "Or maybe not."
* * *
She had a habit of biting her lip when she was nervous or frustrated, and he could tell they were chapped when she kissed him. The humidity dissipated the glare of the orange streetlights, and the night's moisture added to their sweat. And the alcohol turned them into teenagers, her skirt hiked up to her waist as he pressed her into the wall. Aside from his own twinge of Dear-God-This-Is-A-Parking-Lot panic, he wasn't thinking rationally anymore, and he slid into her and forgot everything he knew.
Coming down, he must have held on to her a little too long, because finally she put her hands on his shoulders and lightly pushed him away. Her eyes caught his as they tried to straighten out their clothes.
"We said," C.J. murmured, furrowing her brow.
"I know."
"We said we weren't going to go to bed together anymore."
Toby couldn't keep the corner of his mouth from quirking up. "We did not go to a bed together."
"Shut up," she snapped, and ineffectively tried to swat him.
He stepped back. "Sorry."
"No, you're not. You're not." She bit her lip, caught herself doing it, and glared at him. "This isn't funny. You're incredibly smug and not sorry, and this is incredibly stupid, and you distract me, and we said we weren't going to do this!"
She seemed unsteady, and he put a hand on her arm. She flinched away from it. "We've been drinking," he said quietly.
"That's a lousy excuse and you know it."
"I meant maybe this isn't the best..." He shuffled his feet. "Time or place."
"That's screamingly obvious." She covered her face with her hands and her voice was tremulous. "I quit."
"C.J.--"
"I mean I quit drinking."
"Good for you."
"I quit this." C.J. gestured expansively and almost lost her balance.
Toby touched her arm again, and this time she didn't shrug it off. "You should go inside."
She sighed. "I'm going to hell."
"We already sat through hits of the 70s with DJ Josh Lyman tonight. I think that's punishment enough." He squeezed her arm almost imperceptibly. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Where are you going?"
"Home."
She hugged herself. "You can't--"
"I'll walk. One less stop for Ginger means one less reason for her to kill people in the morning." He started across the parking lot, toward the street.
"Toby?"
He turned back. "Yeah?"
She frowned sadly. "We can't do this."
"'Nacreous' means iridescent; it doesn't mean disgusting."
C.J. stared at him, bewildered. "What?"
"Nothing. You're right. We can't do this."
He knew her eyes were following him as he walked away.
* * *
"And that's the recipe for a Cotton Candy," Sam said in a professorial tone. "Now, your Fuzzy Chartreuse--"
"We used to have Bleeding Orgasms in college," Carol said, leaning back against the bar. Bonnie snorted loudly.
"You just don't want to listen," Sam scolded. "I have all this wisdom and you're not letting me pass it on."
Donna beamed at him. "Sam, you are the Yoda of cream soda."
"Does anyone want to know what I think?" Josh asked.
"No," three or four people said in unison.
"Drinks are drinks," he continued, undeterred. "It doesn't matter what. Ends up in the same place."
"Which in your case is a dumpster somewhere," Donna said.
"Funny." Josh looked at Sam. "She's a funny lady."
"There's a drink called the Foxy Lady," Sam said. "'S got amaretto in it."
"There are foxy ladies all around us." Josh leaned across Sam and touched Donna's shoulder with two fingers. "In particular, you are a twenty-first century fox."
"Thank you," she said uncertainly.
"You are." He took her hand and tried to draw her to him, nearly toppling them both into Sam's lap.
Sam looked back and forth between the two of them. "There is also a drink called the Leg Spreader."
"Can we get a round of those?" Josh asked.
"No," Ginger said sternly, coming out of her corner. "We can't. It's time to get going."
"I want to stay," Carol whined.
"I want a full-body massage from a guy named Jean-Pierre," Donna said.
"I could do that," Josh volunteered.
"Your name isn't Jean-Pierre."
"Sure it is."
"Enough." Ginger hustled Carol and Bonnie to their feet. "I can take four of you at once."
Josh snickered at this. "Won't you get worn--"
"Shut up." Ginger nudged Sam and Donna. "Let's go. I'll call a cab for you when I get home, Josh. If you're lucky."
Sam looked dizzy as he got up. "Whoa."
"The juleps finally got to you, huh?" Donna's smirk quickly faded as she stood up. "Head rush. Head rush."
"You could stay here with me," Josh offered.
"No, she can't," Ginger said flatly. "I'm not going to play this game with you right now."
"Hardball," Bonnie mumbled. Carol made a sound caught between a laugh and a whimper.
"Goodnight, beautiful people," Josh said.
"Goodnight, Josh," Sam replied warmly.
"Let's go," Ginger said, herding the group toward the door.
Sam tugged on her sleeve. "Can I sit in the front?"
"Donna's sitting in the front because I'm dropping her first. I'll deal with you in the morning, and don't look forward to it."
As they stumbled out, Josh saluted them with Sam's glass. He lowered it and made a face at the pinkish liquid left in the melting ice. Over the rim, he saw C.J. straggle into the bar, damp and rumpled and looking lost.
"Don't you think all drinks are the same?" he asked her.
She collapsed onto the stool beside him. "We don't go to bed together anymore," she said wretchedly.
He blinked at her. "You and me?"
C.J. paused. "That works."
Josh considered this for a long moment. "...Okay."
"Where'd everybody go?"
"Ginger took them." He slumped. "She took Donna away too."
"Donna was in day-care the year you graduated high school. Which would make you a dirty old man."
"Wow." He tilted his head. "Did Ginger take Toby away too?"
"Toby took Toby away." C.J. folded her arms on the bar and let her head drop onto them. "I give up."
Josh patted her reassuringly on the back. "Me too."
"I drink too much," her muffled voice continued.
"Me too." He imitated her and put his head down. "Oh, this is good. I think I could just go to sleep right here."
"Me too," C.J. agreed.
And they stayed there, two of the smartest people in the world, and waited for the taxi to come and carry them home.
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