Chapter 37

He went home and proceeded to get profoundly drunk. It was three in the morning and he was on his sixth glass of bourbon when there was a knock at the door. He stumbled over to rip it open and glare drunkenly at the person on the other side, who happened to be the councilor for the seventh district who was holding a pair of bouquets in her arms and giving him a nervous smile.

“Idiots don’t generally get flowers.” He slurred the words at her and tried to remember her name. “Especially drunk idiots.”

“They’re for the Soul.” Kathy, that was her name, pushed past him and into his condo. “You get to choose which apology flowers you want to send her and I promise I won’t even tell her you were off your ass drunk when you picked them out.”

He let out a thick laugh, catching himself before it turned into a sob. “I fucked up, I fucked up so bad.”