On Saturday, Brady and I stayed in bed literally all morning. We were talking and fooling around and I decided to ask about the George situation.
“So why were you so mad on Wednesday night?” I asked him.
“Are you kidding?” he asked, almost laughing.
I narrowed my eyes at him, preparing to explain to him that no, I was not kidding and his whole tantrum was unwarranted. But then his phone rang and he said, “Sorry. I’m going to take this.”
Brady got out of bed and answered his phone with, “Hola.”
And then he proceeded to have an entire five minute long conversation in Spanish. Even though I took two years of Spanish in high school not a single thing stuck with me so I sat there on the bed looking dumbstruck.
When Brady hung up the phone I said, “What the fuck?”
His eyebrows furrowed together. “Hmm?”
“You speak Spanish?” I asked.
“Sí. I thought I was going to live in South America for a while. Didn’t we talk about this?”
“Uh, no.” If he can keep the fact that he is fluent in another language, what other secrets does he have? “So who were you talking to?”
“Just one of my buddies,” he answered.
“One of your ‘buddies?’ Are you a part of a drug cartel?” I was kind of joking, but mostly serious. It would explain quite a few things.
Brady laughed way too hard at my “joke.” It wasn’t that damn funny. When he saw that I wasn’t laughing with him, Brady said, “Of course not, Reese. That’s ridiculous. I was talking to my friend, Raul. He’s flying in today for the marathon. I’m picking him up from the airport later.”
Is it just me or does “Raul” sound like the name of a Mexican drug lord? I told him I wanted to meet Raul then changed the subject back to Wednesday night.
“So why were you embarrassed? Honestly, I think George is the one who should’ve been embarrassed,” I said.
“Reese, you were all over him. It’s one thing to be friendly, but you were practically sitting in his lap the entire night,” Brady explained, sounding really frustrated with me.
“Okay, well next time I will just be a rude bitch to your coworkers,” I said.
“I’m not telling you to do that. You just took it too far. You should’ve seen the disgusted look Deb had on her face.”
“Then why didn’t you say something?”
“I shouldn’t have to tell you how to be an adult,” Brady said.
“And then you and your friends were acting like complete idiots. I thought you would have more [he used a word I’ve never heard before here]. I have a professional image to uphold.”
I really wanted to point out that he wasn’t concerned about his “professional image” when he was getting his dick sucked in a room in the hospital, but I knew that would just start a fight.
“Okay. Next time I’ll try to act less like myself and more like a professional adult,” I said, hoping he caught on to my sarcasm.
“That would be great. I apologize for kind of blowing up on you. I was extremely frustrated.”
“It’s fine. I almost got kidnapped by a homeless man on my way to the bus stop because I was crying and couldn’t see where I was going. But it’s fine!”
We got dressed and got Portillo’s then went to pick up Raul from the airport. I definitely thought Raul was going to be huge and bald with a teardrop tattoo on his face. He was the exact opposite.
Brady introduced us in Spanish and I said, “Does he like, not know any English?”
Brady turned and gave me a discreet “shut the fuck up” look so I said, “Mucho gusto,” in an American white girl accent.
I let Raul have the front seat when we rode back to Brady’s. They spoke Spanish the entire way so I guess Raul really doesn’t speak English. I wanted to test my theory by saying, “Brady, I want you to cum on my tits later,” but decided against it. Like I said, I’m trying to be more mature.
I hung out with them for approximately ten minutes at Brady’s house, but it was hard because of the language barrier. Since they were running the marathon in the morning, Brady didn’t want to go out or anything so Carly and I decided to go to a party in the suburbs.
She came over to get ready then I drove us to the party. Carly is really bad with directions and after we got lost about four times, we finally made it. It was at some hockey player named Nico’s house and apparently he has parties all the time. Carly introduced us and we hung out and drank with Nico and one of his friends.
I was tipsy and talking to Nico about hockey and life. Carly pulled me aside and said, “Reese, you’re flirting with him.”
“I am not!” I exclaimed. I would totally admit if I was flirting and out of line, but I legitimately was not. Nico was hot, but I wasn’t even attracted to him like that.
“How would you feel if Brady was acting like that with a girl? Did you even tell Nico that you have a boyfriend?” Carly asked.
Good point. I actually hadn’t told Nico about Brady, but then again it hadn’t come up. Is that something you’re supposed to tell someone of the opposite sex right away?
I turned back to Nico and he offered me a shot. After we took it, I told him that I have a boyfriend and we’re probably going to get engaged soon. Nico didn’t seem very interested in me after that, but it was okay because I had fun anyway.
We left at around one and I honestly should not have been driving. Carly insisted she knew her way back, but we ended up in some dark ass neighborhood in the middle of nowhere. I finally got out my phone to put my address into GPS since obviously Carly had no idea where we were.
While we were pulled over and I was pulling up directions, a fucking Buick or some ugly ass car came barreling down the street and side swiped the shit out of us. They physically moved my car and the impact knocked my phone out of my hand.
It took Carly and I a few moments to realize what happened, but by the time we did, the other car was long gone. Those assholes didn’t even stop.
“Reese, are you okay? Should we call 911?” Carly screamed.
I tried to jump out to assess the damage, but my drivers side door would barely open. After I used my body to push the door open, I saw that the entire drivers side of my car was dented and white from their paint.
“What the fuck!” I yelled. “My car is all fucked up. And I can’t even call the police because I’m fucking drunk!”
Carly got out and we mulled over our options then finally decided we should just get home.
This morning was the Chicago Marathon and Brady, Chris, and John were running in it so Carly, Kendra and I woke up super early, bundled up and got lattes to go watch them. This got really boring because there were so many people and we couldn’t even see anything so we got wine and walked back to my apartment.
Later in the day I went to Brady’s and showed him my car.
“Holy shit,” he said. “What happened?”
I explained the story, blaming Carly for the whole thing since it’s her fault we got lost and ended up in that sketch neighborhood.
Brady told me that I could file a police report and then file a claim with my insurance to fix the damages. Ugh. I don’t want to have to file a claim – my insurance is already high enough. Why do I have such bad luck with cars? Maybe I just shouldn’t have one.