The phone call I got from Marty and Tyler was the last thing I was expecting tonight. Turns out, they had taken Gabe drinking. He turned twenty-one a while back, but because of my own drinking problems we had never celebrated with the kid. Because I was in AA, I had not received an invitation to the long overdue celebration at our favorite bar. I guess they were all just looking out for me, but it still kind of stings that I hadn’t received an invitation. Basically, I’ve been called in to drive Gabe home because they were all too drunk to think that perhaps their alcoholic friend was not the best person to call.

By the time I reached the bar, Marty and Tyler had already put their drunk asses in a cab. Gabe is drunk off his ass as I make my way to the bar, and I chuckle slightly watching him take shots that had been bought for him by a few other drunk buffoons who had heard he was celebrating his twenty-first birthday. I tap him on the shoulder, and he turns around and shouts, “Jonathan!” excitedly. He’s gone.

He starts yammering at the bartender about me –saying he was the best man at my wedding. The bartender rolls his eyes and looks at me, “You going to pay this guy’s tab or what?”

“Marty and Tyler didn’t pay while they were here?” I ask.

“They were drunk out of their minds,” the bartender says, “I’m lucky I got them to pay their own tab.”

I roll my eyes and pull out my wallet. I put a hand on Gabe’s shoulder, “You all right, man?”

“I’m really drunk,” he sings.

“I see that,” I shake my head, and I order myself one drink while Gabe finishes off the line of shots in front of him. I tell the bartender to close my tab out immediately and completely lay out that I’m an alcoholic to the guy and not to let me order another drink.

“You sure you want this one drink?” the guy asks.

“I’m not just going to stand here while he drinks all that,” I say, “just don’t let me order another one.”

The bartender nods and gives me my girly fruity cocktail; it’s a low-alcohol content drink, so I figure I’m not even going to get a buzz off of it. I sip on my drink as Gabe makes a bunch of ruckus at the bar. I laugh. I’m glad to see he’s having fun, and I’m sure he’s going to regret this fun in the morning. Poor kid. He’s still got three shots left in front of him, and he pushes two towards me. “I can’t finish all this without killing myself,” Gabe says and takes one last shot. I know if Gabe was sober there’s no way in hell he would have offered me a drink, and he would probably be giving me a hard time about the one drink I did order.

I hesitate. I tell myself, no, but I cave and take the two shots. I give the bartender my cocktail, which is only halfway finished, and tell him to dump it. I ask for water instead. I’m not going to let myself get drunk three days before my big match. Plus, I have to drive Gabe home. I’ll probably take him back to the mansion and let him sleep in one of mine and Brandi’s guest rooms. He had been pretty awesome taking care of me during my black out drunk night. Plus, I really owe him after puking all in his car. “Come on, Gabe, let’s get you out of here before I wind up drinking.”

“Oh, man, I forgot,” Gabe says suddenly going from giddy to ridiculously angry at himself, “Jonathan, don’t take those shots I gave you.”

“Man, you just saw me take those two shots. You’re drunk out of your mind, come on, let’s go,” I grab him by the arm, and I have to let him hang on me in order to get out of the bar. “I don’t want you drinking like this anymore, kid,” I say, “trust me, you don’t want to wind up like me.”

“You’ll be fine,” Gabe says, “you’re better than this. Don’t let yourself keep falling.” I nod and help load him into the passenger’s seat of my car. “Hey!” Gabe shouts in my face as I’m leaning over to buckle him in, “You got your Ferrari fixed!”

“Oh my God, Gabe, I got it repaired months ago. How drunk are you?” I ask, closing the door and circling around to the driver’s seat. As I’m sitting, I have to snap my fingers to get him to look at me, “Earth to Gabe! Man, how much did you drink?”

“I dunno,” he sings; he has a stupid grin on his face, and I can’t help but laugh.

I pull out of the parking lot, and we head down a long empty road. It’s dark out, and there are not a lot of street lights along the old strip of highway I’m taking. “I’ll get you some coffee when we get back to the house,” I say.

“I don’t want you to fight Donte,” he says suddenly.

I frown. “I got to, or my manager might drop me.”

“Fuck that guy,” Gabe says. “You’re not ready. You got to get sober before you try some shit like that. I don’t want you to fight Donte. Brandi doesn’t either. Marty and Tyler don’t want you fighting him either.”

“I have to, Gabe,” I say again.

“No, you don’t,” he says. “It’s not fair to us.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t want to see that shit again,” he says, “I don’t want to see you hurt like that again.”

“Damn, Gabe, don’t get all emotional on me,” I say, and then I hear a car horn blare as I accidentally cut off some guy in a foreign jeep. “Shit,” I grumble and focus on the road.

Gabe has completely forgotten what it was we are talking about as he peers into my rearview mirror, “look at this asshole,” he says, “he’s riding your tail.”

I just shake my head. I had almost hit the guy; I need to pay more attention. “Whatever, we’ll get off at the next exit.”

Suddenly the car jeers forward. He fucking reared us! “Holy shit!” Gabe grabs hold of the car door handle and braces himself for a second hit.

I toss my phone to Gabe, “Call the police!”

Despite his intoxicated state, he manages to do just that, and I can hear that he’s on the phone with the dispatcher –panicking while telling them that some guy is trying to run us off the road. The car hits us a second time, and Gabe screams into the phone our location as we swerve. I manage to stay on the road and get us straight again, but in my rearview, I can see car lights speeding towards us. I’ve never been involved in a road rage incident, and I fucking fight for a living.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Gabe is screaming; he has this horrified look on his face as our car is rear-ended yet again.

I slam my foot on the gas pedal, trying to put distance between us and the other car, but this lunatic is hell-bent on driving us off the road. I attempt to make a quick turn onto a side road, but that proves to be a dire mistake. The guy T-bones us, and the car starts flipping. So much for me having nice things. My Ferrari flips God-knows how many times. Random shit goes flying all throughout my car; I get hit in the face by a pair of boxing gloves. It seems to happen in slow motion; I see blood splatter on the windshield, and I wonder if it’s mind or Gabe’s.

When the car finally stops spinning, we wind up upside down –hanging by our seatbelts. I look over, and I can see a big gash on the side of Gabe’s head. He moans loudly, thank God. “Gabriel, are you all right?” I ask

“My head…” he grumbles.

Suddenly car lights flash in through my shattered window. I can see a black shadowy figure coming towards us. “Gabe!” I snap, “he’s coming,” and I start to rush to try to get myself unbuckles, but my seatbelt jams.

I hear a clicking sound –the sound of a gun being cocked. My heart starts racing. I feel Gabe’s hand reach out and grab my arm, “Jonathan!” he shrieks, and I hear the gun go off. Gabe’s blood splatters all over me, and he lets go of my arm.

I scream, and I feel myself tearing up as I watch the shadowy figure start to cross around the car towards me. “Gabe?” I ask, “Gabriel, man, wake up!” I try to yank on my seatbelt, but I’m stuck dangling there.

I hear police sirens in the distance, and so does the driver of the other car. He bolts, and I hear his car take off. I keep struggling with my seatbelt, but it’s to no avail. “Gabe!” I sob, “Gabe, come one, man!” I know I’m in denial. He was shot in the head point blank. I don’t want to believe it, though.

The police arrive. “Sir, are you all right?” a voice questions as a flashlight is shined in my face.

“He shot him!” I scream, “He shot him!”

There’s a puddle of blood underneath Gabe as they pull me and him out. An ambulance arrives shortly after the police… and a hearse. I wind up sitting on the curb as one of the paramedics check me out. I can hardly move. “He’s in shock,” I hear him say.

I watch as they load Gabe’s body up into the back of the hearse, and it makes me cringe. He was just a kid. It should have been me.