“So I’m guessing you didn’t call just so I could tell you what a miserable sinner you’ve been lately, did you?” Sober Stevie is on point.

“Nope. I called to see if you want to hang out.”

There’s an audible gasp on the other end of the line.

“Man, did I just hear you ask me to hang with you? I thought being drunk and/or high all the time fucked with a person’s mind, but now I’m dead sober and I think I’m having hallucinations. Can green tea do that?”

“I don’t know anything about tea, man, but you heard me right. And after the number of times I’ve hauled your drunken ass out of this scrape or that over the years, you fucking owe me, so quit playing hard to get.”

“Well, when you put it like that, I would love to voluntarily and not at all with a gun to my head spend an evening in your delightfully pleasant company. Why, thank you so much for the very kind and gracious invitation. What can I bring to this most prestigious event?” He’s funny as fuck.

Stevie is the joker in the pack. It’s always party time when he’s around. Or at least it used to be. But even sober, he’s a prolific joke teller and prankster, never one to let a moment pass quietly, and one of the funniest idiots I’ve ever met. If he hadn’t made it as a drummer, I’m sure he could have had an equally successful career in comedy.

“Just bring yourself. I’ll take care of the rest.”

And by take care, I mean order takeout and bring out the video games, which is exactly what I do. We spend much of the evening battling it out on the console in amiable silence, until clearly fatigued from one too many ass whoopings from me, Stevie puts his controller down on the couch and turns to me.

“So, come on, man, what’s going on?”

I sigh. I knew this would come up at some point.

“London is coming back this weekend. After not speaking to her for all these weeks, she messaged me to meet her at the airport. Well, she didn’t ask me, exactly, but she sent me the flight details, so I guess that’s kind of the same thing. I’ll be there regardless.”

“That’s a good thing, right? So what’s the issue?” He shoots me a sidelong glance, clearly trying to read my vibe.

“The issue is I don’t fucking know what to do or say to her. I mean, I know what I want to say. I know I want her and Squirt in my life. So goddamn bad. But I have no idea where her head is at. I want to believe that her sending me the flight details is a good thing. It’s the most contact I’ve had from her since she took off.”

“She loves you. You know that, right, man?” He’s still looking at me, but I keep my gaze fixed on a point on the wall ahead.

“Yeah. Well I thought so before all this, but now I don’t know what to think. If she does, how come she was so quick to take off when the whole Marnie situation kicked off? I’m no expert at this relationship business, you know that. In fact, I don’t think you could find a guy who knows less about this stuff than me. But still, I figure if you love someone, you stay and work it out. Even if that means fighting it out, right? Isn’t that just basic couple shit? How come as soon as she’s in any doubt, her first instinct is to push me as far away as possible and run? How come she rushes to that douche in tights and spills her guts, but won’t even take my calls? When do I get to be the guy she runs to, not the one she runs from?”

“I can’t help you with any of that stuff, brother. Women are a mystery to me. A beautiful mystery, but a mystery just the same. Maybe you should be having this conversation with Jake? He’s the only one of all of us who’s managed to keep a chick in his life for longer than the time it takes to come.”

“I know, but I think I cashed in all my chips with him the last time I needed help with London. Besides, when I think about it, I don’t really know how comfortable I feel taking advice from a dude who’s only ever had one woman wrapped around his dick. He doesn’t know about women, he knows about Kris. There’s a difference.”

Jake, our man on keys, is the only married member of the band—or in fact, in any kind of steady relationship. He also has two kids. That’s a big part of the reason he has naturally fallen into the “tour father” role, but it’s also just his personality type. He has always been the most reserved and sensible of the group, unlike the rest of us who have been sowing our wild oats and whatever else for years.

He and his high school sweetheart, Kris, have been together since the rest of us were still trying to work out how to suck our own dicks. They settled down into a life of wedded bliss not long after graduating. Not that things have always been easy for them. They’ve had their fair share of drama, like any couple, but they seem to have come through it all stronger than ever. Even still, I doubt he’d be much use in helping me undo a fuckup of this magnitude. He’s got no idea what real dating is like. I mean, he’s never even been on Tinder!

On the other hand, he’s definitely our designated guy for “taking care of business.” Whatever that business may be. He’s the first person we all hit up if we need something done. Or fixed. Or undone. He’s also most likely to make sure everyone makes it onto the plane, or to interviews, or other commitments, and to pull us out of the many dipshit situations we seem to regularly find ourselves embroiled in.

He’s what anyone would agree is a “nice guy,” and definitely the kind of guy you’d be happy to introduce to Grandma. Naturally quite reserved, he’s the quietest member of the group, but with all the larger-than-life personalities, that kind of works well too. Somebody’s gotta shut up long enough to actually think, and that someone is most definitely Jake.

“Or what about Brad? Or Gramps? He and your grandma were married even before they laid the Rosetta stone, and they were possibly the handsiest people I’ve ever had the misfortune of spending time with. No offense. They were a great couple, and I feel terrible for your Gramps now that he’s all alone, but I still have traumatic memories of seeing them together at your family gatherings. There are some things you just can’t unsee.” He laughs at this own joke, and I join in. It’s funny because it’s true.

“Ugh. I’d rather pull my toenails out with pliers than suffer through Brad’s big brother condescension. It was bad enough when I was a kid and kind of had to listen, but there’s no way that as a grown-ass man I’m going to voluntarily put myself in the line of fire of that crap.” He’s totally clutching at straws here. I guess he really doesn’t want to babysit me, but that’s his tough shit. I give zero fucks, and he’s not getting rid of me that easily.

“I did go to Gramps back when I was trying to figure out how to get London back into my life after we first met. He said I should treat winning her over like a hostile takeover, which I’ve been doing ever since. I can’t imagine what else he’ll have to add, apart from more stories about him and Grandma, and you’re right—if I hear him mention one more time how fine her ass was, I’m gonna puke in my mouth.” Stevie loses it at this, laughing so hard he almost cries.

“In summary, I’m basically out of options, so here I am, hanging with your sorry ass instead of with my girl and my unborn baby.”

“Yep, looks like you’re stuck with sorry-ass me. All I’ve got for you is something my mom said about my sis when she was knocked up and she was screaming and carrying on about me buying the wrong ketchup, or some other completely crazy nonsense. She said that when they’re pregnant, their hormones go wild and it makes them do and say insane stuff. It turns out that London was pregnant when this whole thing with Marnie went down, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So maybe that’s what it was. Maybe she was hormonal and now she’s not, and she’s come to her senses.” He looks so pleased with himself, you’d think he just reinvented the wheel.

“But she’s still pregnant.”

Stevie shrugs. “That’s all I got, man. I told you, I’m about as much use as a chocolate cigar.”

Well that’s one thing he’s got right, at least. Still, I appreciate him even trying. That’s what I mean about my boys. Always there, even when they know they can’t help.

“In that case, make yourself useful. Restart the game and let me whoop your ass for the millionth time.”