chapter forty-four, Wednesday:13thnovember2013 – aftermath
“Pete, I can’t talk about it any-more, please stop.” Gulping the dregs of my Jack shaking my head and gesticulating to our waiter to bring more, perhaps the whole bottle. That's a good idea.
“Tharie, it’s not healthy what you’re doing.” Pete admonishes me, sipping her white wine delicately, dipping string-thin French fries in mayonnaise.
“They’re carbs you know?” I tell her.
She gives me a wicked sideways glare is if to tell me to stop picking a fight when it’s me she wants to break down tonight. “Besides, I seem to need more energy these days.” Bloody hell.
“What should I do then?” I’m agonising about the finer details, and nothing helps, “I’m driving myself crazy.” And the feeling is new to me, usually when someone gets to me, with a hint that I’m uncomfortable, I shut them out. I shake my head and the small amount of dark liquid in my refilled glass, “I don’t have any experience of this.” Tipping the burning liquid down my throat.
“Your instincts Tharie, what do they tell you?” She looks at me like only a good friend can do, they can disapprove and ask the tricky questions.
“My instincts, tell me to run like hell to the hills.” I ask the waiter for the bottle, she looks at Pete to confirm she’d herd right, and with a sideways nod off she trots and brings the bottle. Good girl.
“You're getting through that quickly Tharie,” she nods her head to the half empty bottle of bourbon on the table between us, I’m not listening, everything below my ears is numb, and that’s what I wanted.
“Ahhh, its nice being out with my friend.” I tell her with half open eyes, squinting “is it bright in here?”
I shade my eyes, and point a cold French fry at her, “what would you advise I do about it Pete?” My elbow slips on the table surface and I pitch to one side. “I’m fine.” I declare rather loudly, she hadn’t even asked.
Pete sends a text, she thinks I haven’t noticed, you notice everything when you’re pissed, the only difference is you don’t give a toss about it!
“Stay here” she tells me in her 'Mum' voice, which she probably learned from Eve Charles herself, I start to wonder. Then, “and don’t talk to anyone either Tharie.” She directs me, “I’m going to the ladies.” She looks at me double checking I’m not disappearing anywhere, “don’t move” satisfied that I appear not to be able to stand much less walk.
My phone vibrates, I’m slow to connect the weird feeling with a message and by the time I have my phone out the second alert wriggles the unit in my hand, hmmmm I think, a vibrator AP, excellent idea!
There's a text: I fumble with my phone, sliding my finger over the screen, dropping it into my lap a few times. I hold it tight in both hands, firmly, take a deep breath, I can do this I tell myself. Looking down, a muzzy wooshy feeling in my head, even the voices are pissed! It’s from Daniel. Bloody helicopter. Hic.
DP: “I’m coming to get you, be ready.” who does he think he is bossing me around? Well naturally I decline, where’s my phone? Oh, slipped onto the floor.
I see Pete chatting to a pretty girl by the fruit machine, and look back down at my phone, there it is, I have apparently answered the text.
TC: “Go to hell” satisfied this pretty much is the gist of the matter, I lay the thing gently on the table top and pour more Jack. My phone vibrates again.
DP: “Put the glass down baby, you’ve had enough.” I look around the bar, not for the first time I feel Daniel is keeping tabs on me, more alcohol, is most certainly needed here, such a pretty bottle too.
I decide to defy him and drink another slurp, toasting the air before I do. Pete is chatting her up! I can’t believe it, we come out for one drink and already she’s planning her night.
TC: “I have not had nearly enough D” I text back but he’s the only ‘D’ I really want. Jack and Daniel, has a nice ring to it. I can't feel my lips, is that OK? Are these boots last seasons, they’re nice aren't they?
A man approaches my table, Pete is engrossed in the tale the woman is telling she’s not even checking in, he speaks but I can’t really hear what he’s saying. Then he touches my arm and takes hold of my bicep. I look up, his handsome face, quite young, jeans, sweat top, “not my type,” I tell myself. I try to tell him, “No, you’re not Daniel.” I feel him dragging me to my feet and a roar of laughter from his friends at the bar. He grabs me around the waist and I swoon into his arms, a great cheer erupts and many pints of beer join up in a toast to him. I feel his hand on my arse, and suddenly I’m coming out of the fog I’ve consumed, an unsolicited arse grope will do that. “Hey!” I say, “Get your hands off me!” Pete now looks over, concerned she’s coming fast.
The man has me in a vice like grip and is laughing and his face is in my face. I smell beer and fags on his breath he’s that close, “you're not my type.” I tell him again, he pulls me toward him, then everything stops. The man disappears, and I see him lying on the floor, I don’t know how he’s got there, and I’m confused. Pete is stopped staring about six feet away, wine glass in her hand as if someone's pressed her pause button. I laugh at her, she's gawping at me.
There’s a fuzzy frame around my field of vision, and I have a tunnelled view. “Such lovely boots don't you think?” to no-one in particular. The man is groaning and several of his friends are flying about, I smell a familiar scent, I feel instantly safe and comforted, not sure why. “Can I sit down please?”
I feel like everything is revolving around me so I step away, looking for somewhere to sit, and someone grabs my wrist “come baby,” he says, “let’s get you home.” Daniel. Daniel is here, I love him don’t I?
“Thanks for calling me Pete” I hear as we pass her on the way to the door.
“Thank you Pete, love you.” I slur, “Byeee...” I wave.
Daniel is pulling me into his arms and practically carrying me along, “I love you don't I?” I mumble drunkenly. “Yes, we love Daniel, don't we?”
I’m floating on air, not sure how I’m moving along, then suddenly the smell of leather on my cheek and I’m lying down. Sleep, yes, that’s the answer, did I finish my drink?
“Yes, baby,” I hear. “You do.” Then I am asleep.
Ooooar, my head hurts, did I fall off again? Bloody hell.
Note to self, try to not fall off.
I open one eye first to check my position, I’m home, there’s a cat perched on my hip wondering when I’ll get up and feed him. I reach out and touch his soft fur and the bed moves. God! There's someone here. A warm hard body cuddles close to me and I recognise the feeling as my body welcomes someone familiar to it. I turn and Daniel lays on his side propped up on his elbow hand in his hair looking at me with mild amusement, a beautiful smile curving his full lips.
Bugger! I remember, falling back on my back I run my fingers through my hair, ouch it's tangly, trying to recall exactly how Daniel got here, in my bed.
“There was a man, I was talking to him.” More of a question than a statement.
“No baby, he was talking to you, you were using him as a crutch.” Shaking his head but still smiling, “it makes me crazy when you take risks like that baby, if I hadn't been close by...” He lets the end of the sentence hanging in the air. Pete.
Safety first eh?
“You beat the crap out of him.” I remembered.
“He deserved it, he had his hands all over my property.” He brushes strands of floppy unruly hair from his face and takes a deep breath, he is so hot, and he smells incredible to. He's had his hair cut, it's shaved very close at the sides, nice. “I don’t like people touching my stuff.” Neither do I. He looks directly into my eyes, warm and passionate gooseberry grey pools of Daniel
“Your stuff?” I smile with one eye open.
“Yes Tharie, I don’t share my toys with anyone, it’s a character flaw.” his smile widens into a grin, “I don’t like people messing up my things.”
...me either.
“Tea?”
Well, what were you expecting?