Saltwater Tibs Versus American Justice

I was just chillin' at the flat one saturday night during the memorial day weekend. (U.S.) I was polishing off a bottle of Cabot Tower (Rum, 100 Proof, 50%) with some frozen ice tea. A real pirates drink. We were having a few rounds of Melee, trying to make it a "light" night to recharge our social-butterfly-like batteries. Then Jack Fountain shows up.

The phone rings.

Coffee answers the phone.

There is a rap at the door.

"I'll get it" I say as he continues on the phone. He was talking to a girl, he had to take it. I walk down the stairs, turn on the porch light, pull back the curtain (with authority) and peer out the window to see Fountain: smiling. I unlock the door and let him in.

"Hey"

"Hey, you guys got any pot?"

"One sec I'll talk to Coffee." I turn and shout up the stairs, "Coffee, pot?"

He gives me a weird look from the top of the stairs, he's still talking on the phone and shakes his head.

"Cause I got these guys from a band."

"Ah, shit, ah, ok. Bring them in." I look up to Coffee, "Shotgun?"

"...ah, yes dear."

Jack leaves down into the van, I walk back upstairs and share a drink with Dan. Coffee curtly finishes his call. Fountain comes back and we're introduced to Oliver and Howard. Two cats from Southern Ontario, playing that scene, they were from St. Catherine's, cool, I had family there. They had some new tunes and hopping beats.

"We're celebrating Substance Abuse Sunday, here on Saturday Night." Coffee explains as he pulls out The Shotgun.

"Oh we celebrate Substance Abuse Saturday, we're early morning people." Replies Howard. He was a Dj/merch guy, playing some acoustic songs when the promoters would dig it.

Dan and I go into the living room, refill our glasses and start talking about girls.

"I got this girl taking me to a wedding."

"Oh yeah?" Dan replies

"Yeah her names Beth."

His eyes widen. Coffee reenters the room.

"What?" He throws.

"Beth, as in B."

"She was my wife for four years." Coffee says.

"I was his divorce lawyer." Dan follows.

"Ah shit! I already confirmed I was going. I'm sorry dude."

"How did this happen?!?"

"My agent has a girl. That girl has a friend, the four of us are going to this travesty."

"Just stop right there. I have no desire to learn anymore." He lifts a glass to his lips, "I'm going to do the things I enjoy to do. But look at me dude, I live in a shit hole apartment in the North End. I moved from a farmhouse ocean front property in South Bar! She did this to me. I'm broke, I lost it all in the divorce."

"When I lost the case I went out of buisness, the both of us invested too much time and money into it. I went from being a respected divorce lawyer to a meat cutter at Sobey's."

"Oh great so this is the girl The Agent is trying to get me setup with. Why can't he just stop his needless string games and let me drink and write. I am a writer and no one is my master, I don't need any more drama in my life than the fictious ones in my head. I've got enough boy still left in me that I don't feel the need to spill my seed on a different girl every night. It's the romantic in me." I say sarcastically.

We spend the rest of the night watching the sports highlights. That letter is still in my pocket, unopened.

From a sunken couch,

S. Tibs