Parker’s POV
“Parker!” I looked up from where I was washing my hands in the sink. My uncle was leaning half in the doorway. He looked pissed. That was never a good thing.
Aw, come on, Wes. You said you wouldn’t fuck up anything while I was gone! Liar!
“Yeah, Uncle S?” I sighed, the tap shutting off as I shuffled over to the hand dryer. “What’s up?”
“Get yer fucking friend!” He jerked a thumb back to the bar. I could hear Pamela Shanks and her Pussy Posse going ham on some Pussycat Dolls on the karaoke machine. “He’s passed out all over the bar and sobbing like a newborn! It’s bad for customers! Get him home and let him dry out!”
“Oh, uh.” Oh God, that sounded so embarrassing. Holy shit. “Yeah, I can do that!”
“Good.” But, Uncle Spence lingered by the door, fretting like he did when Roscoe was determined to drink every newcomer under the table who tried to do the Monster Mash drinking challenge. “You, uh, you got time to talk, kid?”