Okay, the usual first: don't owe them, etc.
Second: have fun!
1: waking up in Reno
'Shooo… hush… easy now… calm down… deep breaths…'
'...am...my..'
That must be me. My voice. Doesn't sound like me, though. I moan. At least, I think that that came from my lips. Not sure.
'No, it's not Sam. He's not here.'
That certainly doesn't sound like Sam. My head is filled with the worst hangover I have ever, ever had. Damn you Bobby for the cheap stuff. Liver cirrhosis is surely going to be a close companion one day, but there's no need to expedite its arrival.
I must open my eyes. Gawd, I'm sick. Where's Sam? I try to push myself up, but small yet firm hands usher me back. That's when I notice I'm in a bed that smells, if ever so lightly, of soap. Lavender, magnolia, freesia. I'm not sure, but it's not the couch at Bobby's or a scent I recognize from the sleazy motels Sam and I often use.
'Here, take a sip. You haven't had something to drink in days.' A straw is pushed between my lips and suddenly I notice how thirsty I am. My mouth is dryer than a cork in the Sahara.
'There, there… easy. Not too fast and not too much.'
By now I'm sane enough to understand a woman is at my bedside and helping me.
'...ospital..?' I manage to say.
'No, this is not a hospital. I'm Molly. You're at my place. I already told you.'
Molly. Molly who? I haven't got a clue. My head hurts so bad. Is this really a hangover or is it something different? A shiver racks my body. Am I running a fever? I'm cold too. And nauseous. Sick. Really sick.
Oh freakin' hell. I AM going to be sick.
I make an effort to roll to my side, but the bed topples over and the world collapses on top of me.
'...Easy… where're you going?… ssssh… calm down…'
Through the mist and the pain and the nausea I register her voice. What was her name again?
(to be continued).
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