Jeremiah

"Ahh, it doesn't get much better than this, does it?" With his feet propped on the stool in front of him, Jim Warner finishes his ice-cold beer and releases a sigh.

I typically don't make it a point to hang out with anyone from work beyond business hours, but my good buddy, Jim, is an exception. More than just a mentor, he's someone I've grown to love and trust. He's also a master on the grill, and tonight, he's truly outdone himself.

"That steak was excellent. Want me to grab you another beer?" I slide to the edge of the pool chair and adjust my visor. Two beers is my personal limit, unless I'm not planning on driving. Jim, on the other hand, I'm willing to bet, achieved that on the way home from the office.

Ever since his wife passed away a couple years ago, he's been consuming more and more, and after his recent health scare, three or four simply doesn't seem to be enough anymore. I stopped counting at ten earlier. Or maybe it was eleven.

You'd never know he had a drinking problem, and to my knowledge, he's been pretty good at keeping it under the rug. Not a single person at work has ever hinted at knowing. No worries, my friend, your secret is safe with me.

"Yeah, I'll have another. Get yourself one, too," he adds. "You know, you're always welcome to anything I have in the fridge."

He tells me this all the time, and I usually do help myself to something before I head home. Mind you, a water or soda. When I say two is my limit, I mean it.

I hate seeing Jim a blubbering mess. He's a beer or two away from being that way now.

We had a long week at work, so I can't say I blame him. Losing one of our biggest clients—Star Financials—had taken all of us by surprise, but that's okay. I've already got a plan in the works to win them back. I'm a numbers guy and I don't take losing a client to the competition lightly. In fact, I've already got a meeting set up the first of the week to get to the bottom of this.

"You get lost in there?" Jim brings his hand up to cover his mouth as a throaty belch slips out.

"I had to take a piss." I wouldn't talk this way in front of just anyone, but I know Jim could care less.

"Jeremiah, when are you going to find yourself a woman?" Jim blurts out of nowhere as soon as I sit down.

Excuse me, but where the hell did that come from? Of all people, Jim should already know that answer.

I waste no time with my response. "No time soon."

Apparently, I hadn't learned my lesson the first time I'd gotten burned because I'd jumped right back into another serious relationship not even a year later.

Women simply didn't know how to communicate and that's the bottom line. If I need to say it louder for his neighbors over the fence, I will.

"What brought this up?" I shake my head. I guess he's drunker than I thought.