“You had no faith in me and told me so.” I remind him of our car ride that he couldn’t have forgotten, given it was only two days ago. “I thought Brynn only does tequila shots?”

The guests left an hour ago. Mrs. Rafter left an hour before that, refusing to let me take her home because she’s “old, but not incapable.” And a few of us stuck around to help clean up.

And by that, I mean tidying up the bar.

And by that, I mean drinking vodka tonics.

After Quinton’s declaration, Brynn seemed to lose her distaste for the drink. I guess being the drink choice of a full-fledged activist made it more appealing. And maybe it does? I don’t own a bar, so what do I know?

“I do!” Brynn shouts from behind a balloon tower she’s dissecting. “Just slam it!”

Tequila shots are not my favorite, but because tonight ended up getting me on Mr. Mahler’s good side with another job for him, I do just that.

“Eeeeek!” My entire face puckers as the bitter burn of tequila hits my throat. “It’s so bad! I need a lime.”

This is why I stopped taking shots in college. Now I get drunk the classy way. Slowly and generally hating myself during the process.

“Training wheels are for wimps and you’re no fuckin’ wimp, Reed!” Donny puts another shot in my hand. “You’re the fuckin’ boss who just put together one of the most memorable nights in sports!”

Wow.

I totally get why these guys hired Donny. If Donny was my alarm, telling me what a boss-ass bitch I was every morning, I feel like my life would improve drastically.

“You’re right! I am a fucking boss!” I snatch the small glass from his hand and throw it back.

Bottoms up, bitches!

“Fuck yes!” Donny punches the air before yelling—or just talking? I can never tell with him—to anyone who will listen, “Reed’s taking shots! Turn-up time has arrived!”

I regret agreeing to shenanigans with him for a split second before I decide, what the hell? Live a little.

I can’t even remember the last time I got drunk for a reason that wasn’t sad. Not only do I deserve to celebrate after a job well done, if I know anything, it’s that life’s too short to wait to celebrate.

Donny is walking back holding glasses. Not shot glasses, water glasses—filled with what I can only assume is tequila. Is he insane?

I take the glass from Donny and pour some of it into the shot glass I just used.

Because while turning up is a party, alcohol poisoning is not.