Brad was throwing a reunion party. Or, to be more exact, Ray was forcing him to host a bunch of bravo boys at his place over the weekend. Luckily, Ray was great with words and shit. The Iceman never stood a chance. It’s not like Brad had anything better to do during his leave, anyway. Ray had already called everyone up over the course of the week and it looked like everyone who counted was going to be there. He and Hasser were headed out to BevMo to pick up a keg or two before heading over to Brad’s place.
“Dude, do you have your ID?”
“Ray, you asked me that twice already.”
“I’m just checking, homes. I’m not about to get kicked out of BevMo because you look like an innocent little freshman.”
Okay, so they got the kegs and a bunch of booze because Brad had said the only way he could fuck up Brad’s house was if he brought plenty of whiskey and tequila. And limes. Can’t forget the limes.
Ray knocked on the door probably four times before Brad answered.
“What the fuck where you doing in there, homes?” Ray said accusingly before pulling Brad into a hug.
“Good to see you too, Ray.” Brad rolled his eyes before shaking Hasser’s hand.
Brad led them into the kitchen and started unloading their bags.
Ray wasted no time in getting Brad caught up.
“So get this, Wynn said he would DD but Stafford said no way in hell. I had them on that party line bullshit on my phone and then Christeson said it would only be fair if everyone got fucked up. Poke still hasn’t said whether or not he’s coming, it’s like he has to get fucking permission from his wife or something. Luckily Walt here offered to help pick up this shit or else I would have had to do it all on my lonesome-”
Walt got indignant and tried to clear up the facts at that point. “What? No, you TOLD me I had-”
Ray kept on talking over Walt. “Brad, are you even listening to me?”
“Yes, Ray. Just because I don’t have anything to say right this fucking second-”
“I just figured you would be more excited, is all. Also, the LT said he would be here, which is a long fucking way to come but Wynn seemed to think he was committed.”
“Ya, actually Nate got in earlier. He’s in the shower.”
“Really?” Ray was more surprised by the nonchalant use of the LT’s first name then the fact that he was in the shower.
Well, this just got interesting.
“Everyone is gonna be here in like, 10 minutes. Put some cool music on the tube, Brad. I have to take a piss.”
Ray strode down the hallway, red cup already in his hand. The bathroom door was shut, so he knocked.
“Dude, LT!” The LT opened the door and hot mist rolled out of the bathroom. His hair was standing up. It was definitely longer than regulation. The LT had a huge grin on his face. Well, of course he did. Who wouldn’t be happy to see Ray fucking Person? The LT grabbed Ray’s hand to shake it.
“Good to see you, Ray. If you’ll excuse me, I gotta change and then we can catch up.” The LT started to walk past Ray into the hallway. But Ray noticed that the sweatpants that the LT was wearing looked an awful lot like sweatpants he had seen Brad wear before. Then he noticed that where the skin was exposed at Nate’s hip, dark letters were etched into his skin.
“You got a tattoo, LT?” Ray’s eyebrows wiggled in jest.
“You could say that.” Nate said while he made for the bedroom across the hall. Ray was halfway to the toilet before his brain registered what he saw.
ICE. Written in the LT’s hip. In Brad’s handwriting.
And the LT had just walked into Brad’s bedroom.
Could they get any more obvious?
Oh, damn. This was going to be interesting.
After at least 6 rounds, 3 Irish car bombs and 2 keg stands (either they made Garza or Trombley do it, it doesn’t really matter at this point. And no, he doesn’t usually get them mixed up, it’s just that he wasn’t really paying attention), Ray was starting to get some awesome ideas.
He called Hasser over to him.
“Walt, spill your drink on the LT.”
“What the fuck, Ray. Why would I do that?”
“Just do it. He’ll have to lift up his shirt to clean it.”
“You are so goddamn perverted.”
“No, no Walt, it’s for a good cause. It’s not what you think.” Ray’s words were slurred but his intent was focused.
“Then why don’t you do it?” Walt said, exasperated.
“Because he’s on to me!” Ray said, throwing up his hands. Obviously Walt was going to be no help.
Ray couldn’t get anyone else to do it either. Not even Trombley. Apparently everyone still had respect for the guy or something. Whatever, Ray just hoped everyone got so fucked up that they forget he had asked. The LT kept throwing him weird looks though, so he obviously needed to back off. He could utilize his excellent recon skills later. Besides, he should enjoy the bitchin’ party he planned.
The next morning, his beauty sleep was interrupted when Hasser shook his shoulder.
Hasser started to whisper urgently. “Ray! You should get up.”
“What? Is the house on fire? If the house is not on fire, I’m going to-”
“No, but Trombley just walked into the kitchen and the LT may or may not have had a shirt on.”
“So. We’ve all seen dudes shirtless before. Are you telling me Trombley’s delicate sensibilities were damaged?”
“Uh, he is saying there was something on the LT’s hip.”
Ray groaned and went to the kitchen. Trombley was sitting on a barstool, looking completely confused.
“What’s up, Trombley?” Ray said, trying to keep his voice low so as not to wake anyone else.
Trombley turned to Ray and scratched his head.
“I walked into the kitchen and the LT was making coffee but his pants where low and he had no shirt on. I guess he thought no one was awake. But there was something on his hip!”
“What did the LT say?” Ray asked, suppressing the laugh that was tickling his throat.
“I didn’t ask him! He just said good morning and walked back out after starting the coffee. I think it said like, ICE or something.”
“Dude, it says justICE. It’s a tattoo, but the LT got it done by some liberal bisexual fuck who messed up the capitalization. You couldn’t see the other part. Isn’t that all American and shit, getting justice tattooed on himself?”
“Oh. Ya, I guess.” Trombley said, clearly still confused. But his brow relaxed and he stopped trying to think so hard. Ray smiled as he went to poor the two of them and Hasser a cup of coffee. At least Trombley was a diversion from his aching head. Maybe later Ray would be in the right mood to actually enlighten him about that tattoo. But first things first. He had to kick everyone out so he could give a ton of shit to Brad and the LT.