AN: Here we go, another little chapter.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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"She was from over in Highland Park," Daryl said over lunch.
Daryl's memory was slowly coming back to him about the night. He was piecing it together and it got a little clearer when sleep and hydration were in his favor…and when the hangover had passed.
And now he was at lunch, sitting at the picnic tables outside the main office of the little business he worked out of, eating a ham and cheese sandwich with Merle and Axel…both of them giving hell because Merle was narrating his take on the whole damn thing.
"Highland Park…that's pretty damn high society right there," Axel declared. "Hell…I ain't hookin' up with no damn body from Highland Park…"
"Best your ass does is the damn trailer park," Merle responded with a chuckle. "Nah…this asshole don't know if she was from Highland Park or not…hell…went outside they was fuckin' trails through the dirt…fucker had ta damn near crawl from there ta the house…run through the damn yard killed my whole fuckin' family of pink flamingos."
Daryl reached and hit Merle in the back of the head, making his brother laugh.
"Weren't that damn bad," he protested. "Just drank too fuckin' much…I was pissed the fuck off…"
"An' fucked the hell up," Merle responded, chuckling. "This asshole…comes up the next mornin'…don't know who the fuck it was he laid it too…but he 'members he ain't wrapped the shit."
Axel laughed then, shaking his head and getting up, clearing the table of trash that he could throw away in the nearby barrel. He came back, lighting a cigarette before he even sat down.
"Bad news, Daryl," he declared. "You don't want you no Highland Park babies…can't afford 'em."
Daryl shook his head, but didn't respond.
"An' ya don't got a damn clue who it was? We work Highland Park a good damn bit…which house was it?" Axel asked.
Daryl shrugged.
"Hell…all them fuckin' houses is the damn same just about…reckon if I knew what the hell it looked like wouldn't do no damn good…" Daryl responded. "I 'member…though…she was…blonde…built damn good…good damn fuck. That's all the hell I got right there…" Daryl said.
And even as his memory was coming back, and even as it was offering him flashes and pieces of the night, he couldn't remember her clearly…not really. He figured a lot was owing to the fact that Salty's was pretty poorly lit. They said it was ambience lighting…but it really boiled down to was the fact that keeping the lights dim made it easier to drink yourself into thinking the people there were prizes to be had.
And when they'd left Salty's?
Daryl's memory only offered him pieces of that…at least it only offered him pieces of driving to Highland Park…because he remembered trying damn hard to focus on her taillights…remembered she drove an SUV, but hell if he knew what kind or even what color…because he didn't want to ram her ass with both of them being probably far too damn drunk to have made the drive.
But it was dark outside…and it was dark when they got inside…and he didn't even remember if he'd seen her clearly at all, or in decent light, from the time they met to the time that he thought it was a good damn idea to leave his number written on the only piece of paper he could find and stumble his way out her door to get to his truck…though he did remember that he found, somewhere, the presence of mind to flick the lock on her door before he closed it…because he remembered thinking it would be shitty to just leave her passed the fuck out and leave her open to anyone coming in if they desired.
From there his mind went pretty much blank until he got home, wondering how the hell he made it there…and he'd stopped to drink directly out of the sink faucet like a dog before he took himself to bed and passed out with most of his clothes poorly put on.
"Blonde…built damn good…good fuck…" Merle responded, lighting his own cigarette and passing the pack to Daryl. "Means her ass was either none a' the above, or ya best be hopin' the damn phone don't ring, boy!"
Daryl shook his head again and lit his own cigarette fished out the pack.
"She ain't called…she ain't gon' call," Daryl said.
"Give it time," Merle said around the cigarette in his mouth. "Ya bagged ya a' young'un an' she'll be callin' 'bout'cha fuckin' child support…two weeks' time."
"Wonder who the hell it was," Axel repeated. "Hell…Highland Park…we all the damn time over there…"
"Just drop the shit…don't matter no way," Daryl spat. "It was a one-time fuck…a bad damn mistake made 'cause both our asses drank too damn much…she don't wanna remember that shit and neither do I…so drop it."
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"Would you pay attention to me?" Carol called out over the din of voices. "Mediterranean wrap or the Asian one? Jacqui's got to take this to the printers tomorrow…"
But no one was paying attention to her…they weren't even paying attention to each other. There were at least three different conversations going on and no one was paying attention to any of them, at least not entirely.
Carol hovered her pen over the notebook paper she was revising for changes to their menu. At least every six months they brought in new things and took old ones out, something to keep the café new and exciting…something to keep people coming back, because people got tired of the same old, same old pretty quickly.
Carol elbowed Andrea who looked at her like they'd just met.
"Mediterranean or Asian?" She asked.
Andrea stared at a second.
"Uh huh…yep," Andrea said.
Carol frowned.
"It wasn't a yes or no question," she responded. "Which of the wraps…the things that you just ate…did you like better? Mediterranean or Asian?"
"Which one had the fruit?" Andrea asked, looking at her now empty saucer.
"They both had fruit…" Carol responded.
"I'm not old enough…she's too young for this…she's just a baby," Michonne said, finishing up the tail end of the crisis that she was having while Alice sat beside her, fiddling like she always did with her phone.
"Mimi..." Andrea offered…apparently to Michonne and not to Carol.
"Nana…and she's not a baby," Alice said.
Carol growled at her friends.
"Mediterranean or Asian before I kill someone?!" She declared, more loudly than before, catching the attention of all three of them who looked at her like they were confused or like she was overreacting to something.
"What? Mediterranean…" Alice said, picking up the cup of coffee in front of her and putting her phone down for a split second. "Is this mine…whose is this? Did I order this?"
Carol shook her head.
"Jacqui made it for you…at least ten minutes ago," Carol said. "Mediterranean from Alice…Andrea?"
"Which one had the fruit?" Andrea asked.
"They both had fruit…" Carol declared. "Mediterranean had…I don't remember…the Asian had the orange flavor…"
Andrea shook her head.
"No…I didn't like the oranges," Andrea said.
"Fuck oranges," Alice declared, offering a thumbs down from where she was back at whatever it was that took place in her phone.
"The Mediterranean had the feta?" Andrea asked.
Carol nodded.
"That one…I'll eat anything if you put feta on it…" Andrea declared.
"Note to self…buy feta…" Alice said, glancing up from her phone.
"Two for Mediterranean…Michonne?" Carol asked.
Michonne was wearing the facial expression she often wore to tell them all that she was done with them. She was done with them…she was done with whatever was going on…she was done with life…she was just simply done.
And Carol knew what it was in regard to because she'd heard the whole conversation…but they had time to sort out Michonne's crisis later. Her crisis was that Anjelica, her oldest daughter…who was newly married…was also, apparently, pregnant. And now Michonne was having the "I'm too young to be a grandmother" crisis that went hand in hand with her "I hate my son in law" crisis that she'd had since it was the "I hate my daughter's boyfriend" crisis. So, clearly, this wasn't going anywhere anytime soon…but the menus were.
"Michonne?" Carol repeated.
Michonne sighed and shrugged.
"I like both of them," she said. "I guess I liked the Asian the best…"
Carol thanked her and jotted it down on her piece of paper just as Alice got up from the table and dropped a few bills out of her purse there.
"That goes to Jacqui…" Alice declared. "I have to run…my damn residents are going to kill the whole floor if I don't get back quick…"
Alice said her goodbyes and left quickly, nothing too unusual, and Michonne checked her own watch before picking up her cup and drinking from it.
"Angie's just a baby…" Michonne declared.
Carol chuckled.
"She's twenty-two…and happily married…whether or not you like him," Carol responded.
"He's an asshole…" Michonne said.
Her son in law was…Carol hated to say he was an asshole…he could be a little difficult to get along with. He was simply one of those pompous know it all types. He was the kind of young guy who's barely hit his twenties but thinks that he already knows everything there is to know about anything at all. It wouldn't matter if you were talking about the irregularities of your own menstrual cycle, he would try to correct you.
And for that, and for the fact that she had to tolerate him nearly every time she wanted to see her daughter…and now presumably if she wanted to see her grandchild…Michonne didn't care for him.
"Well, I'm too young to be a grandmother," Michonne responded. "I'm not being anyone's Grandma…or Grammy…or Gram…"
"Mimi…" Andrea offered. "Nana…"
Michonne just shook her head, making Carol chuckle.
"Why not wait until the baby's old enough to start calling you anything…and then let it decide for you?" Carol offered.
Michonne sighed.
"That could work…but Jeremy would influence the kid…and then it would end up calling me something like shit-for-brains and he'd say it was some…foreign word…for dearest grandmamma," Michonne responded.
"Sexy," Andrea said, wagging her eyebrows and drinking from her own beverage. "Can I have a cookie, Sexy? I want to go see Sexy…"
At least the thought of it got a laugh out of Michonne, and Carol couldn't help but laugh too.
"It would be great," Michonne said, "except this is my grandchild we're talking about…"
"Yeah…you got a point," Andrea ceded.
She fell quiet for a moment before rolling her head in Carol's direction.
"Speaking of sexy…did you call your mystery man?" Andrea asked.
"What mystery man?" Michonne asked, sitting up because something was finally more interesting than her grandparent woes.
Carol just shook her head, but she already knew that Andrea was busting at the seams to run her mouth about it.
"This weekend…Carol goes down to Salty's and scores a mystery man…" Andrea declared.
Carol was beginning to remember a little more about the evening, though it came in such flashes of memory that she wasn't entirely certain she remembered it over it simply being something that she made up or dreamed.
She remembered the man being attractive…rugged…and very, very strong. And she remembered the sex being good…she remembered it feeling perfect and wonderful and just the way she'd wanted it to feel…but part of her feared that it was really just the fact that she'd gone without for a while and therefore anything was bound to be great because she was getting assistance instead of simply flying solo.
"You slept with a guy this weekend?" Michonne asked. "Who was it? I know everyone in this town."
Carol shook her head and shrugged.
"I don't know…honestly," Carol admitted with a shy smile. "I don't know that I ever caught his name…"
Michonne raised her eyebrows at her, her lips curling into a smile.
"But you slept with him?" She asked.
Carol nodded her head, feeling her cheeks burn red. She glanced around, checking the lunchtime crowd to make sure that they weren't being overheard by anyone, but everyone around them was focused on their food and their own conversations.
"Well, what did he look like?" Michonne asked.
Carol shrugged again.
"I don't remember…not exactly," she responded. When Michonne made something of a disapproving face at her she laughed. "It was dark!" She protested.
"She's remembering more than she did that morning…she was rough until at least two…then the hangover started to fade a little," Andrea said.
"I drank way too much," Carol admitted. "But he was handsome…rugged…I don't know. It doesn't matter…it was nice, even if it was pretty stupid of me."
Michonne sat back and sucked in a breath.
"I don't know…I wouldn't say stupid," Michonne said. "There are some days…if I wasn't a married woman? It might be nice to play around some...you got his number?"
Andrea grinned.
"He left it," she said, looking so satisfied that Carol thought to offer the number to her for the time being.
Carol shook her head.
"I don't know…I mean…it was just a one night stand," Carol said. "He probably doesn't even remember me…he probably doesn't want to talk to me…"
"He left you his number," Andrea said. "He wants to talk to you. His subconscious wants to talk to you…his little friend told him to leave the number…"
Michonne chuckled.
"I don't always agree with Andrea, but this time? I do. He left you his number…he did it for a reason, whether or not he even knows it. If it was good…and you might want to go another round, give him a call…what else have you got to do?" Michonne asked.
"I have plenty of things to do," Carol protested.
She blushed a little at the expression on both of the women's faces. She did have plenty to do…or rather she could have plenty to do if she wanted it. She was a quiet person, though…and she liked a quiet life. The only reason she didn't have tons of things going on was simply because she chose not to have them.
"Well I do…" She added. "And I'm not sure if I'll call him…"
"Call him," Michonne said. "I've gotta go…client coming in half an hour."
Michonne got up and glanced at Andrea.
"You leaving too?" Carol asked.
Andrea shook her head.
"Nope…I've got an hour before anyone's looking for me," Andrea said. "I can stay here…try some more of that wrap with the feta…and harass you until you call the mystery man and get yourself some well-deserved loving."
Carol rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything. She'd been thinking about it…and the truth was that it wasn't going to take all that much convincing to get her to make the call. The worst he could do, after all, was simply say that he wasn't interesting in meeting with her.