Non-Alcoholics Anonymous, Non-Alcoholics Anonymous, Non-Alco…

After laying Ian down onto the floor, the crew is able to finish their work in peace. Martin is almost impressed when “crazy/drugs” doesn’t even wake up before he leaves. He can only imagine what kind of drugs are swimming around in Ian’s head. They’re probably pretty good drugs.

“You want us to drop you off at home, man?” Rico asks, lacking his mid-day verve. The labor of the day has caught up with most of the group. Martin’s probably the only one who isn’t exhausted. He’s sure this is because he barely did any work, but he can only hope the other guys didn’t notice or don’t care.

“Yeah, that’d be good. I have a few things I need to take care of.” Martin has been trying to keep in mind that today was a waste unless he can actually get the money Raymond needs by tomorrow.

“Like getting me some cash!” Kiefo laughs as he climbs into the front seat.

Martin sighs. “I’m not getting the money for you, dumbass. I’m pretty sure I only owe the bank.”

“You watch it, little man. Once you get me that money, I’ve officially saved your ass.” Kiefo slams his door.

Whatever. Martin hops in the back and plops down onto Ian’s couch. That’s when he remembers to get his phone so he doesn’t forget it. He’s been leaving it in the back of the truck while everyone’s inside working. No one really calls him anyhow, so what’s the harm?

1 New Voicemail. Hmm.

“Hey, you’ve reached Martin. Pretend I said something funny.” Martin enters his password here. “You have one unheard message. ‘Hey Martin, this is Hilda. I was just calling to see if you were around your place and might want to give me a ride home from work. Um…’” Fuck. The surge of guilt is almost unbearable. “’It’s okay if you don’t get this, though. I can just ride the bus. Not sure what happened to my car. Karma maybe? I’m sure this is all just part of the bigger plan for us all. Well…okay, call me back if it’s not too late when you get this. Bye.’” Martin snaps his phone shut.

It’s actually right around six at this point; Ian’s place took a bit longer than expected for various reasons. Martin figures there’s no point in calling back now. Really, though, he just doesn’t want to talk to her about the car. What a coward. He doesn’t know whether to focus on his guilt or self-hatred at this point. Now he’s just hoping his roommate is back when he gets home so he has someone to vent at.

The repo guys drop Martin off with little fanfare, just a reminder that they’ll be back tomorrow afternoon for payment – or the rest of his shit.

When Martin tries to open the front door, it won’t budge. What the hell? Then he realizes that Ray must have locked it for one of his “binges”. Thankfully, the repo crew made a secondary entrance for Martin that morning. He can hear Tommy and Kiefo laughing at him; Tommy and Kiefo see him flip the bird as they drive off.

What a fucking mess, and all for the sake of showmanship. His roommate, Raymond Joseph, the obsessive-compulsive “alcoholic”, lies face-down in the middle of their living room. If they had all of their furniture, he’d be passed out on the couch like he usually is. At least this time he didn’t make himself vomit for realism.

“Come on, Ray. Get up. We need to talk about that loan you took out. I actually had to work today so the bank didn’t take everything.” Martin stands over Raymond’s still body. The empty corpses of non-alcoholic beers litter the floor. At least Ray is unquestionably insane. One can’t say the same for Ian. Hmm.

Ray lifts his head slowly, doing his best imitation of how a drunk person would act grateful. “Ugh, thanks,” he mumbles as he rolls over, an empty still clutched in his hand. “Ugggghhh. I’m so sorry, Marty. I’m so sorry. I did it again.” Somehow Ray manages to not open his eyes through all of this. Martin just shakes his head at the stupidity.

“God…damn…it.” Martin grabs Ray by the shirt and lifts him up to a sitting position. “You are not drunk! You can’t be an alcoholic without alcohol!” Usually Martin does not get this angry, but people who seem unwilling to properly use their brains piss him off. This is doubly so when he has to live with the person and co-sign on their loans.

Martin lets go of Ray and sits down next to him. He looks around, noting the five empty bottles. It’s always five bottles. Ray buys six-packs of non-alcoholic beer, but he only drinks five each time. Then, once he’s purchased six six-packs, he consolidates the loners into a new six-pack…and only drinks five. Martin’s always tempted to dump out the sixth one and see what Ray does, but he’s really not that cruel. Hell, he helped Ray get that loan. Now he’s going to suffer for it unless he can figure out a way to make a decent haul in one day that pays cash.

Shit.