“Can you sit back so I can shut the door?”
Once she does as I asked, I walk around the car, open the door, and start to get in. Livi is draped over the console, rubbing the steering wheel.
“You replaced the cover.”
“I know a guy, and he had some stuff lying around, no big deal.”
“It is a big deal. She’s gorgeous. I don’t ever remember this car looking like this.” She sits back, and I finish climbing in. “Thank you, Hendrix. Thank you so much.” She covers her face with both hands. “No one has ever”—she sniffs—“ever, ever, ever made me feel like you.” She stops and looks up. “Uh-oh, wrong story, wrong story.”
I am trying not to laugh. I’m supposed to be annoyed. Hell, if she isn’t making it difficult because she is fucked up. Nah, she is wasted.
“How about you get your apartment keys out of your bag, so, if you pass out on me, I can get you inside?”
“Of course,” she says, wiping her eyes. “Of course.”
I pull out on the street, and she still doesn’t sit up from digging in her purse. When I speed up, she giggles, finally sits up, but then suddenly holds her stomach. She stops giggling immediately and covers her mouth.
Oh, hell, I think as I pull over quickly.
I reach across her and open the door just in time for her to throw up, but she only half makes it out of the car. She doesn’t stop, either. The shit goes on forever.
I have her hair in my hands for two reasons: one, so she doesn’t puke on it; and two, because if she starts falling out, I have a firm enough grip that I’m sure I can prevent it and pull her back.
After she stops throwing up, she sits back, panting. I look around for something she could use to wipe her mouth off on. When I can’t find anything, I reach in my back pocket where I usually have a bar rag or a grease rag and hand it to her.
She looks shocked and then I look down.
“Livi, I got nothing else in here. These panties will have to do.”
“But, I don’t—”
“Just use them,” I say, and she takes them.
When we pull up to her house, she is asleep once again, and I can’t wake her up. I also can’t find her keys, and the car reeks of vomit.
Fuck it, I say to myself as I make a u-turn and head home. It’s not like I can leave her in the hallway of her building. I wouldn’t want to anyway.
As I hit the remote and open the garage door to pull in, Floyd is hanging out on her pillow, waiting for me like she always does.
I get out and look at her. “We got company tonight. You think you can behave?”
She lays her head down and, I swear to fuck, sighs.
“Trust me, it ain’t going down like that,” I tell her as I walk around the car and open the door, careful not to open too quickly since Livi is leaning on it.
I carefully lean in, avoiding the vomit, and lift her up. She is out cold. I bet I could drop her on the ground, and she wouldn’t remember it, not that it would be a smart move at all.
I blame Jagger for this, too.
Once upstairs, I kick off my boots then pull her shoes off before walking up the stairs and into my bedroom where I lay her on my bed. She might as well stay up here. She needs some clothes and who the hell knows if my brothers have clean anything in their rooms. Damn, she looks good in my bed.
She doesn’t open her eyes, but she whispers, “Sleep.”
“Yeah, I know.”
I am situating her on a pillow when I notice some shit splattered on her shirt. I don’t want my bed smelling like puke. The sheets get changed on Monday, and I’m not doing wash until then.
I stretch my leg out and grab the clean clothesbasket with my foot and drag it across the floor. Then, I pull out one of my T-shirts and throw it over my shoulder. I look at Livi for a moment, trying to decide if I can deal with the smell or not. The answer is not. I pull her shirt up and try my best not to look, which is nearly impossible.
I quickly throw one of mine over her head and shove her arms in. I then lay her back on the bed and throw a blanket over her.
I look beside the bed at Floyd. “We aren’t in here tonight, girl. We’re taking Morrison’s spot. But, first, we have a Chevy that needs some attention.”
After cleaning up her car, I make my way upstairs. I am dog ass tired, yet can’t stop thinking about that fucking night two weeks ago. The way her * tasted, the way it milked my cock, and I laugh to myself. Cinderella and her panties.
I end up taking a quick shower, hoping I can wash away some of my thoughts of that night. I wrap myself up in a towel then walk in my room to grab some clean clothes. Normally, I wouldn’t bother—I prefer to sleep in the nude—but not tonight, not with this guest occupying my bed.
I keep my back to her and pull on some sweats. When I turn around, though, she is looking at me.
“Shit, you were supposed to be asleep.”
“I’m asleep,” she says with a hard swallow.
“You need a drink?”