“Rematch?” Jack challenged. He was going to beat Owen if it killed him.
Owen hit start on the game.
***
It wasn't long before Aiden, Sebastian, and Leo arrived.
Logan shook his brother Aiden's hand. “Hey, we're playing the game tonight. My name is 'Joe' tonight.”
Aiden looked mad. He looked at his buddies and said, “Man, I told you we should have gotten her earlier. I love this game!”
Jack spoke up. “Aiden, nobody ever believes you're rich anyway, you bum!” That got a lot of laughs, but they all knew it was right.
Once they were settled, the official Halo tournament began. It was one of the main events of the party for Jack. He had played more Halo during college than he had spent studying, but he remembered it as a good time. It didn't matter who he was when he played. It just mattered that he was good. As one of his last memories of freedom before the job took over his life, he wanted to feel the simple joy of winning the game.
The tournament sucked Jack away, just like he wanted it to. The hours flew past, buoyed by the fruity, girly drinks Noah had perfected. The night was going just how he had planned. He was tipsy enough to feel good, but not drunk, and was dominating everyone but Owen in the tournament. It was down to just the two of them and he was about to win; that was until Leo barfed all over his shoes. It of course happened with just seconds left in the match, distracting him and letting Owen win the match and the tournament.
Jack dropped his controller in his lap and groaned. At least Owen didn't do a victory dance. “How can you still beat me when your house is now covered in vomit?” Jack asked.
Owen blinked. With complete sincerity, he said, “Years of practice of hanging out with you destructive ass**les.”
Jack smiled. “Dean, will you grab me a bucket and some napkins?”
Dean came over with an empty ice bucket and a roll of paper towels. He took one look at Leo and shook his head. “He's going to need more than just a bucket.”
Jack sighed. He was going to have to clean up after someone else's mess. Story of his life it seemed. He bent down and took one arm while Dean took the other, and together they took him upstairs to put him to bed.
“He's in this room tonight,” Owen said, holding open the door to one of the guest rooms. It was the one Jack had put Owen in after their night in the bar. The nightstand was already stocked with Gatorade and water. Rachel had thought of everything.
“Hey guys,” Aiden called, popping his head in the door. “We need some muscle. Paul's roughing up one of the caterers.”
Jack sighed. So much for his perfect bachelor's night. “Dean, Owen, you two go down and kick the crap out of Paul. I'll get Leo cleaned up and put to bed.”
“I'm okay, really...” Leo tried to protest, but then sprinted to the bathroom.
At least it wasn't on my shoes again, Jack thought as Dean and Owen hurried out to solve whatever damage Paul had done. He hoped they really did have to beat him up. Maybe he could go get a punch in himself. Jack certainly felt like punching something.
Jack got Leo back into bed and set up with a bowl and a bottle of water before cleaning off his own shoes. Jack was pretty sure he wouldn't be hearing from Leo until at least late evening with the hangover he was going to have. As delicious as Noah's drinks were, they unfortunately left the worst headaches.
Jack meandered back to the Man Cave just in time to see Noah and Izzy come back down the stairs. Izzy was pale and shaken while Noah had his pissed-ready-to-hit something face on.
“Is everything okay?” Jack asked.
Noah put a hand on his shoulder. “Yeah. Paul was just a dick. Like usual. Sorry about the bad ending to the party.”
“Not your fault. Besides, the party was mostly over anyway.” Jack shrugged and looked around the room. Glasses and food were everywhere. “It was still a great sendoff.”
Sendoff?” Izzy asked, peeking at his left hand. “Are you getting married or something?”
Jack laughed. “I suppose you could say that I'm getting married to my job. I'm taking over my dad's company in a week, and I won't get another day off until I'm seventy. I even got a nice little bed installed in my office.” He grimaced and shook his head as if to clear the thought. “Where's Ro—I mean, where's 'Sam'?”
“Robbie is upstairs helping,” Izzy said, emphasizing the name.
Jack laughed. “So he lost the bet. Good job. I'll have Rachel put my part on your check. Don't let Robbie stiff you on his share.”
Jack went and sat on the couch. Someone had cleaned up Leo's accident, so at least he didn't have to deal with that. He started a new game, more just to relax and let his brain melt than to actually play.
Rachel came down shortly after but he was already drifting to sleep. He heard Noah offer to walk Izzy out and Rachel say something about waiting until the morning for the cleaners.
Jack stared at the TV screen as long as he could. He was tired down to his bones. All he wanted to do was sleep. He turned off the game console and headed upstairs, nearly going for his normal room before deciding he didn't feel like dealing with Brandy. He probably smelled like booze again and didn't want to be chastised about it.
He collapsed into bed, thinking he would pass out almost immediately. Instead he lay there, face buried in the pillow just thinking. His life was about to become an endless string of meetings and business transactions, yet all he could think about was how nice it had been not to have Izzy know his last name.
Chapter 3
Jack raised his arms above his head, feeling his shoulders tighten and release with the motion as he climbed out of bed. Surprisingly, he wasn't hung over. If nothing else, that made the day a good one.
Only a few more days, Jack thought as he threw on a t-shirt over his swim trunks. Only a few more days before Dad's company owns me.
He barked a bitter laugh. Who was he kidding? His father's company already owned him and he knew it. Next week would just make it official. His thoughts skittered away from the cause of the sudden increase in responsibility. He didn't want to think about how his father's gaunt frame no longer in his suits or how tired his once vivacious father became during even the simplest of meetings. Jack didn't have to read the doctor's reports to know the chemotherapy wasn't working. It was written all over his father's face.
Jack scrubbed his face with his hands and then ran them through his hair. This wasn't the time to be thinking such morbid, unhappy thoughts. This was vacation. He should be frolicking on the beach or out pestering Robbie on his boat, not using the last few days of freedom to dwell on things he couldn't change.