Текст книги "Deliver Her from Evil "
Автор книги: M. L. Steinbrunn
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
Carly
The sound of the shower running wakes me up, and immediately I know I’ll be paying for whatever I drank last night. I attempt to open my eyes, but my body revolts against the sensory overload of my surroundings. The sunlight peeking through the curtains forces my eyes closed again and makes my pounding head throb even worse. My throat burns as if I’ve swallowed sandpaper and my stomach rumbles in protest.
Slightly cracking open one eye, I find my savior…a bottle of water. I slowly wiggle to the edge of the bed and reach for the plastic bottle. The liquid hits my lips, and it’s warm and stale, but at this moment, it is the best damn water on the planet. Guzzling until I finish the last drop, I then lightly place the empty bottle back on the nightstand and wait for the dehydration to ease. Already I feel better, still hungover, but better.
I want nothing more than to go back to sleep and make this morning start over again a few hours from now, but then I see a pair of jeans on the floor beside the bed. Those aren’t my jeans; those aren’t any of the girls’ jeans. Oh, my God, they are men’s jeans. I take a better look around the room and realize this isn’t even my hotel room. I lift the covers and take a mental appraisal of my apparel. Panties…check, collared button-up shirt that doesn’t belong to me and smells like men’s cologne…check.
“Oh, sweet baby Jesus, I’m a ho,” I whisper to myself as I clamp the duvet back down around my body. The water turns off in the bathroom and I scramble out of bed to find my clothes and get the hell out of the hotel room before my host makes his appearance and I have to endure an awkward morning-after that no one over the age of twenty-five should have to endure.
I dash around the room, finding piece after piece of clothing and shoes. I just need to locate my purse and I can skulk out of here, committing myself to the walk of shame. The handles are poking out from under the armchair in the corner of the room. I bend down to grab it, so I can make a run for it.
“Wow, that’s a view I wouldn’t mind seeing every morning,” a smooth voice drawls. My body stills, wishing like hell I had the magic power of invisibility. I quickly try to think of what to say…what to do. Maybe I could make a run for it and hope I’m at least in the correct hotel. That would be horrible walking the strip or hailing a taxi in a man’s shirt and black lacy boy shorts.
Oh, my God. I’m giving this guy a full peek at my ass right now. I whip around and reach for the hem of the shirt to pull it down as far as it will go to cover my ass. As mortifying as this situation is, the sensation of throwing up kicks in as soon as I lay eyes on the man on the other side of the room. He smells like heaven, and looks like a tempting Greek god. His hair is a wet mess and a towel is tightly wrapped around his waist, revealing a buffet of tattoos that I probably explored in detail last night. “Jen is going to kill me,” I stammer as I nervously shift around to cover my legs.
“No worries, baby doll. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” Royce says with a wicked grin.
“Except herpes, that shit follows you home,” I sarcastically spit out.
The gorgeous lead singer plops himself down on the bed, completely unconcerned with flashing me his manhood. “You weren’t too concerned about that last night,” he says, running his fingers through his wet hair.
My eyes wander around the room, desperately trying to look anywhere but at the impressive piece of maleness before me. “Can you please cover that thing up, and turn around so I can get dressed?” I ask him nervously.
“Seriously?” he scowls.
“Yes!” I screech. “I am so humiliated right now. My ex-husband didn’t even see me naked; I’m certainly not going to let some random one-night stand see me.”
“Well that explains a lot,” he says, rolling his eyes and turning around.
As soon as I know he’s not looking, I strip out of his shirt and hastily put on my clothes from last night. “What is that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“Why you came looking for me.” His eyes slide to mine and his stare makes me want to melt. I resist that enticement and instead try to gather some shred of my dignity.
“Look, I don’t know for sure what happened last night. Judging from my appearance this morning, I have a pretty good guess. Nonetheless, I would appreciate it if we could forget about it and never mention it to anyone.” I throw my handbag over my shoulder and reach out to shake his hand.
“You’re fucking with me, right?” he asks with a chuckle.
I look down at my outstretched hand. “I don’t really know what’s customary after sleeping with a stranger. I’m just trying to be polite.” I retract my hand and let it rest at my side, slightly offended by his demeanor and foul language.
“Do you really not remember what we did last night?” he asks. “You only had two drinks at the bar.” He has a somewhat whimsical grin on his face like he’s amused by seeing me squirm.
“Yeah, well, I don’t drink often,” I sigh, getting frustrated with him, myself, and the entire encounter. “I get that this is a regular occurrence for you, but this morning-after chitchat is really uncomfortable for me. I’d really like to just leave and forget this ever happened, and I really don’t want anyone else to know who I spent the evening with either. This is very embarrassing.”
His smile fades and he gives me a curt nod. “Because I’m the immature man-slut, right. That’s what you think of me, too.” He’s not asking; he’s simply stating. I can see I’ve noticeably hurt his feelings.
He stands and readjusts his towel to cover himself up and moves past me toward the door.
“Royce, I didn’t mean for that to come out the way it did,” I say, hustling to catch up to him.
“I think that’s exactly what you meant, but don’t worry about it. I’ve been a lot of people’s one night mistake.” He opens the door and motions for me to leave. “Your secret is safe with me.” His voice is monotone and flat, his eyes fixed straight ahead, not acknowledging me.
I stand, just looking at him, trying to gauge his true feelings about everything, but I can read absolutely nothing. He’s completely turned off his emotions toward me. That playful Royce I saw just five minutes ago is long gone. I exhale loudly and step into the hallway.
“Well, thank you I guess,” I tell him. I catch him off guard and the surprise is evident on his face.
“What are you thanking me for?” he asks, his brow scrunched. “For agreeing to forget we hung out last night so your friends won’t know.”
I open my mouth to explain, but he speaks and I immediately stifle my words. He moves into the hallway, with no regard for his lack of clothing. “Or maybe you’re thanking me for holding your hair for you when you threw up in front of a group of tourists on the strip last night after those nasty nachos.”
I shake my head in disbelief, and he nods that I did, in fact, make a spectacle of myself, in public no less. “You could even thank me for buying you a lap dance at the strip club we went to last night. Oh yeah, it happened.”
He has continued to walk toward me and I’m now pinned between his massive arms and the wall behind me. My heart is pounding and I can hear myself breathing. He leans into me, placing his lips close to my ear, and all I can think is how great sleeping with him would have been and it’s a shame I can’t remember it.
“Whatever you want to thank me for, Carly,” he whispers, “don’t worry about thanking me for fucking you. As much as I would love to, and as much as you begged for it, I’m not the type of guy to take advantage of someone.”
He turns and walks back into his room, leaving me panting against the wall. “No matter what you think of me, I’m not that big of an asshole,” he adds before slamming the door.
I stand in the hall for a moment to collect my bearings. So not only did I drink way more than my body could handle last night, I puked in public, attended and enjoyed myself at a strip club, begged to sleep with the person who was taking care of me, and then insulted him after reviving me from my bender. Great! My cheeks flush with embarrassment. I’m a grown woman with a child and in the middle of a divorce, and I behaved like a twenty-one-year-old on spring break. Selfie pictures and film clips on social media sites would make this misadventure complete.
I quickly walk to the elevator, step inside, and push the button for my floor. Digging into my purse, I find my phone and begin my scavenger hunt through my photo gallery for evidence of my evening with Royce. Sure enough, there are pictures of the two of us all over town. Margaritaville, the fountains at the Bellagio, the roller coaster, and singing with the piano guy at the New York New York; even pictures with groups of very attractive women. My guess would be the strippers he mentioned.
The thing I notice in all of the pictures, though, is I’m smiling…he’s smiling. No matter what my preconceived notions about Royce were, he made me feel comfortable enough to spend the evening with him, and it wasn’t the alcohol. We looked like friends enjoying each other, and if I hadn’t let my mouth completely mess it up, we would probably be enjoying each other right now.
I close out the pictures and bring my home screen back up to see the multiple missed calls from Vivian and Jen. Numerous text messages wanting to know where I am, and if the Russian mob has kidnapped me and I need Liam Neeson to rescue me. Yeah, that one was Jen.
The elevator doors slide open and I quickly shoot off a text that I’m fine and I’ll meet them for breakfast as planned. I finally make it to my hotel room and relax into my $200 a night king size bed. My eyes are still tired and my body aches, but my mind won’t turn off enough to rest. Instead, I scan through the pictures of my previous evening. I look more alive and free in those images than I have felt in several years. I can’t stop staring at Royce and feel bad for treating him the way I did.
I rub my hands down my face, even though my mother routinely warned me that such an action would pull at my skin and cause wrinkles. It does little to relieve the stress I feel. So I sigh deeply and do the only thing I know will help. I find the number I’m looking for and send the only words I can say.
I’m sorry.
Campbell
I struggled to pull myself away from Lakin this morning. Our bed was a cocoon of warmth and love no one should have to leave, but if I don’t make it to breakfast this morning with the girls, there will be hell to pay.
Last night was one of the hardest and best of my life. Sharing my story with Lakin was so frightening. Other than Sharon and Evan, no one knows about all of it, not even the girls. Lakin was right though, if we were going to take that step, he needed to know all of me, the good and the bad. His reaction, the way he made me feel worthy, only makes me love him even more. My fear of losing everything is fading and Lakin has replaced that fear with hope…a hope for what could be.
However, I’m not ready to tell the girls what Lakin and I did last night. Even though we are here for Jen’s bachelorette party, the wedding still a few months away, and Lakin and I agreed to keep it a secret until it was all over. For me, the heart we had tattooed on my ring finger is enough of a reminder of our new life together.
I kissed his temple, left him a sweet love note, and slipped out the door without waking him this morning. Maybe if I just order toast or something else equally quick, I could be back in our bed before he even notices I was gone.
When I see Jen and Vivian in the booth already, my optimism for a fast breakfast meeting diminishes. Then when I see Carly stumble to the booth, ragged and hungover, all hope is lost.
“Good lord, what happened to you?” Jen asks Carly as we both slide into the booth. I feel for her, but I’m glad those questions aren’t aimed in my direction.
Carly takes a small sip of the water in front of her and then lays her head back on the cushion of the booth, looking up at the ceiling. “Royce took me around town and my liver may never recover,” she says.
“How did this happen?” Vivian asks. “We called several times after dinner, no one ever answered. I thought you were going to a show.”
Carly turns her head to me, pleading with me to step in, but I remain quiet. I don’t have a lie to cover the evening for the both of us, so I let her flail in the wind on her own. When I say nothing, Carly throws me to the wolves.
“We were, but Campbell ditched me. I was by myself at the hotel bar when Royce found me. We just hung out. We had fun. I wouldn’t mind spending more time with him. I don’t see why you hate him so much,” she tells Jen.
Aaaannd the atomic bomb detonates and the mushroom cloud now hovers above Jen’s head.
“Royce! Hung out with Royce!” Jen squeals, her voice taking on a decibel level that only dogs could decipher. She then turns her narrowed eyes to me. “This is your fault. If you guys had gone to the show like you were supposed to, she never would have been pulled into his man-whore trap. What in the world was so important that you abandoned Carly and possibly exposed her to a life of a rock star tramp?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Vivian interrupts. “Jen, you need to settle down a tad. Carly is a big girl and can spend time with whomever she wants. Campbell doesn’t need to babysit her.”
“It was fine, Jen,” Carly chimes in. “We had a good time and he was a perfect gentleman. If anything, I was mean to him and hurt his feelings, which was entirely unwarranted.”
Jen huffs and takes a drink of her orange juice. “Don’t sweat it; that man has no feelings.”
“Be nice, Jen, he may prove you wrong someday and you don’t eat crow very well,” Vivian warns.
“Yeah, and I fart rainbows and ride on unicorns,” Jen jokes sarcastically. She turns to Carly and points her finger at her in a stern manner that demands attention. “Let’s just not let this little friendship be a regular occurrence. That man will do nothing but string you along and break your heart. I’ve seen him do it tons of times, and I refuse to let him treat one of my friends that way.”
Carly throws her hands up in surrender. I think more from lack of energy from her hangover, than her being convinced of Royce’s negative attributes. She is appeasing her, so the conversation can shift in a different direction, and I don’t blame her one bit.
If I thought it would help with Jen’s opinion of him, I might have stepped in and spoke up for Royce, but I know better. Actions speak louder than words with Jen, and he has shown her no reason to believe in his virtue.
I’ve known Royce longer than Jen has, and yes, he flings himself from meaningless interlude to the next while on the road. I don’t think the man has ever had an actual girlfriend. He’s a big kid who finds humor in the most immature and ridiculous situations; he can be absolutely infuriating.
However, there is a side to him that Jen has never seen. He can be the sweetest guy with a huge heart, who would help anyone he could. Most of the money he’s made he’s given to his family, but Jen doesn’t want to hear any of that. To her, he’ll always be the front man of Absolution who can’t keep it in his pants.
“What exactly did you do last night?” Vivian inquires, interrupting my thoughts.
I try to stall, so when a waitress comes by, I grab her and ask for a menu. She politely tells me it’s a buffet and I can just go get whatever I would like, but if I have a special drink order, she could take care of it for me. Great, now I look like I’m stalling.
“You said it was soooo important. What could be more important that Cirque du Soleil?” Carly adds.
I take a drink of my water and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“I ate something that upset my stomach and had diarrhea. I didn’t want to be stuck in a show when another round hit me,” I explain. Judging from the looks on their faces, I picked a winner. Nothing like a fecal incident to halt a conversation immediately.
“I guarantee there were no rainbows being shit in that bathroom,” Jen laughs, which earns a harsh look from Vivian and a mild slap on the arm.
“Are you feeling better?” Vivian asks concerned.
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Thank you for not including me,” Carly adds. “You can ditch me any time, if loose bowels are the cause. I’m glad you’re feeling better, though. We have a big night, beer poos are not allowed.”
Jen rolls her eyes and laughs. “We are in Vegas and there are no kids in the near vicinity, cussing is allowed, Car. Beer shits, the terms is called beer shits.”
Jen then turns back to me. “But she is right, no beer shits allowed.”
I nod and hold up my two fingers for the Boy’s Scout’s pledge.
Everyone laughs, and just like that, the tension at the table evaporates. We are once again four friends, four sisters who are here to enjoy each other. Complications and drama of home, forgotten. Men, relationships, kids, jobs, everything put on hold in order to enjoy the moment. Enjoy each other.
“So what’s on the agenda?” I ask.
“Shopping, the pool, sleeping, and then primping for a night on the town,” Jen says excitedly. “Vegas will never be the same when we get done with it. Tonight will be epic!”
The three of us look to each other and then to Jen. Excitement, worry, apprehension, all passing between us.
“We better start scraping together bail money now,” Carly announces under her breath. Jen stares at her, thinking momentarily before a huge grin splits across her face.
“You bet your sweet ass!”
Royce
After buttoning up my dress shirt, styling my mop of a hairstyle, and spraying my favorite cologne, I spend the next five minutes waiting for the guys and staring at the text Carly sent me this morning.
“I’m sorry,” one of the most powerful phrases in the human language. With two simple words, the wounds she inflicted have begun to heal. She pissed me off royally this morning, but after having a deep conversation with my Sally doll, I’ve come to realize she just reacted poorly to an uncompromising situation.
A pounding on my door breaks the silence in my room, and I hustle to answer it.
“Are you ready to tear shit up tonight?” our drummer, John, asks as the rest of the guys filter into my room. I stuff my wallet and phone into my pocket and tuck Sally under my arm.
“Is that really a question you need to ask?” I ask them with a huff.
Casen pulls the blow up doll out of my grasp. “I can’t, dude. No way. You cannot bring this thing along. The girls will be going with us, and I know Jen will have a fucking fit.”
I laugh and pull the doll away from him. “All the more reason to bring her along,” I say before marching out of the hotel room to the elevators. The footsteps behind me and the door closing tell me the resistance is over; Sally has officially become our party mascot. I at least thought ahead enough to dress her in a tasteful outfit for the evening.
The metal doors open and we all step into the elevator. “Jen is seriously going to kill you,” John whispers to me as we take the ride to the lobby. I ignore his warning, although I know he’s absolutely right; I need to prepare for battle.
When the doors open, we walk past a row of slots and find ourselves in the lobby. A circle of smiles greet our arrival, but it doesn’t take long for one grin to disappear. “Fuck no, not happening,” Jen exclaims. “Casen, rein your boy in,” she demands. All of the girls are dressed in the usual bachelorette paraphernalia of penis necklaces and tiaras while Jen fashions the bride sash across her chest. I personally think Sally fits right in.
I hoist Sally up on my shoulder and bounce her like she’s just made the winning shot in a championship game. “She’s our wedding mascot,” I insist. “Sally will be our ticket to VIP sections.”
The girls, with the exception of Jen, laugh. I recognize Carly’s laugh instantly and I find myself yearning to hear it again.
“More like our ticket to videos and pictures gone viral,” Campbell jokes.
I grab ahold of the penis necklace that dangles from Carly’s neck. “If you girls get to wear phallic jewelry in public, then Sally should get to come along.”
“Fine, but she rides in the trunk or on the roof,” Jen growls.
Now that our disagreement is settled, we head toward the exit. The noise of the Vegas strip is exciting. The energy of the atmosphere infects my body and causes a vibration within my system. I find Carly in our crowd and navigate to her.
Casen hails cabs for us and I rush to get to her so I can share a cab with her, but the girls crowd me out. Instead, I’m stuck with my bandmates, John and Seiger, and Lakin.
We all pile into the cab, and I make sure there is enough room for Sally, as I refuse to follow Jen’s trunk rule.
“Buckle up for safety,” I say once we smoosh in. The comment garners me a stern, unappreciated look from them all. “Oh come on you guys, this is supposed to be a fun night, don’t be asses.”
“Where to, guys?” the cabbie asks before looking in his rearview mirror. His Eastern European accent is so thick I can barely comprehend his question.
“Tallywacker’s, we are in the mood for a little punany bread,” I say with the utmost seriousness.
Lakin snaps his head to me, like he can’t believe what I’ve just said. When a broad smile appears on my face, he just shakes his head at my level of immaturity.
“I know no such place,” the driver call’s back. “You get guys and girls there?” he asks.
When we don’t answer right away, he looks back at us and sees Sally. His brow reaches into his receding hairline and nods his head in an unspoken understanding.
“I know just where to take you boys,” he says before whipping the cab into traffic.
The four of us look back and forth to each other in confusion.
“You like men too, or just the women?” he asks. “I can find cheap, cheap rates for you. Just tell me what you like.”
“Ummm,” Seiger begins to say, uncomfortable with our new possible destination as opposed to Fremont Street as planned. “We…um,” he stutters again, unable to spit out any recognizable complete sentence.
John sees the grand opportunity to fuck with Seiger and I give him the nod to pounce.
“We prefer the women, but my friend here,” John says, pointing to Seiger, “likes the men, but they must be midgets.”
“What?” Seiger exclaims. “No. No. No. No. No. I like the women. I like the women,” he insists.
I sneak a peek over at Lakin, and he’s trying to hide his laugh in his hand.
“You no worry,” the cabbie says reassuringly. “I find you good little guy.”
“No little guy,” Seiger says, narrowing his eyes at us. “We want to go to Fremont, sir.”
We try to maintain our composure, because the second we laugh the joke will be over. Lakin is desperately trying to keep it together, but with every passing second he struggles more and more.
“Fremont, may be hard and more money,” the guys says. “How much you pay? The tip counts you know,” he adds with a wink.
Aaaannd that does it, Lakin snorts and breaks into hysterics. His laugh is contagious and I have to duck behind the Sally doll to conceal my laughter.
“No men, no women, just take us to Fremont Street,” Seiger demands.
“Okay, okay,” the cabbie resigns. “You change your mind, just find me. I hook you up.”
Within minutes, our cabbie has us parked on the street that will lead us on the short walk to Fremont. Up ahead the crowd has overtaken the area to watch a band playing on the main stage and onlookers stare as people fly above the crowd on the zip line.
A pissed off Seiger bursts out of the cab slamming the door behind him. He catches Sally’s head in the car door, popping the plastic. She deflates immediately, air hissing in the back of the cab, with no way of saving her.
I jump out and race around to see her flattened head hang out of the car door.
“Dude! There’s no reason to take out your anger on Sally,” I say as the cabbie drives away with her head flapping in the wind.
“Yeah, she was an innocent bystander in all of this,” John teases.
“I betcha that cabbie can get you a new one,” Seiger says. “You guys are assholes.”
His lack of humor toward the situation makes us laugh even harder. “Sorry, man,” I tell him. “We couldn’t pass up the chance.”
He crosses his arms across his body, sulking. “You’re fucking hilarious,” he steams.
Lakin pulls out his phone and sends a text to the rest of the crew. Hopefully, we can catch up with them. “Come on,” he says as he puts his phone back in his pocket. “I’ll buy you all the first round. It will only take a couple of drinks for that ride to be funny, Seiger.”
Lakin was absolutely right. Three drinks in and the cab ride was an epic story, which Seiger felt free to share with anyone who would listen at the bar.
Somehow, amongst the crowd, we managed to find the other carload of our group, but I didn’t get to spend any of our time out with Carly. Jen made sure to keep the girls partitioned away from us, and it became a look but don’t touch situation in regards to Carly. After my buzz began to wear off and I realized none of my efforts were going to be aimed at the one girl I actually wanted to talk to, I caught the bus back to the strip.
The girls left long before I did, and none of the guys were ready to leave, so the bus ride home is a lonely one. Although the bus would take me all the way to my hotel, I decide to hop off on one side of the strip and enjoy the long trek back to the hotel. I could use the fresh air to think about how I’m going to get another chance with Carly.
I make it all the way to the Bellagio before I stop to see the water display. The crowds have thinned, so finding a spot along the stone edging in the middle is easy to find. I lean on the cooled rock and wait, and wait.
After several minutes of no show, I look around for any clues as to why nothing is happening. Looking down the edging, I notice Carly leaning against the stone just as I am, a mere fifty feet away.
She hasn’t noticed me.
I close the gap between us and scoot in close to her, staring out at the water, when I finally reach her.
“Did I miss a memo or something?” I ask.
“By about two hours,” she responds without missing a beat, making me think she did see me and just chose not to acknowledge me.
She turns and smiles at me, which puts my fears to rest. “I googled it. They turn the fountains off at midnight. We’ll have to catch it tomorrow before we leave.”
I zone in on her use of the word we, and I absolutely love the sound. “We’ll have to do that,” I say, adding my own we into the conversation.
She nods and turns her back to the water, leaning against the rocks. “What happened to Sally? I noticed she didn’t make it to the bar, but I didn’t get a chance to ask.”
“It’s a long story,” I laugh. “Let’s just say the old girl has been laid to rest.”
“Ah, I see.”
I look out at the water and let silence take over the moment.
“I really am sorry about this morning,” she finally says. “I enjoyed being with you last night, and I hope it wasn’t the last time.”
A sense of relief overtakes me. She says the exact words I was hoping for. Carly is a force I would struggle to stay away from. So to hear her say that she would like to see me again, even if it’s in a non-romantic capacity, well, it’s something. I struggle with my need to push the envelope, push her toward something more with me.
Throwing caution to the wind, I grab her waist and slide her body in-between mine and the rocks, caging her in. Pushing her silky brunette hair away from her face, I cradle her face in my hands. Leaning in, I lightly rub my lips against hers, not kissing, just tempting, teasing her. When I finally hear the begging whimper I’m looking for, I plunge ahead, devouring her mouth.
She feels just as good as I hoped she would, a sensation I could come to crave. I could spend every day for the rest of my life touching these lips, and it wouldn’t be enough.
I finally pull away and tuck a loose strand behind her ear. “You won’t be getting rid of me anytime soon.”
