Been a little while on this one, I know, so I decided to go ahead and upload what I'd been working on since the last update. However, just know I've been very busy working on my writing, I assure you! (Still have a lot of irons in the fire, as they say!)
So, I hope you enjoy it! As I said, there is a lot more to come, on this fic and my other ones! And, as always, I appreciate your patience and your support! It means the world! :D
Happy Reading!
After a while, I'd been able to slowly regain some of my composure after getting a little food in my stomach, though I had no idea how long the little stability I'd gained back would last. Meanwhile, Vanessa had kept ordering drinks, getting more and more obnoxious with each round. She was babbling incoherently, while cackling like a hyena and hanging all over me like some cheap bar fly. It was all I could do to keep her contained, while still keeping an eye on Pepper.
Luckily, the dance floor had started to clear off a little for the time being, since the house band was between sets, so I had a clearer view of her and Nick at the bar. I watched them getting very cozy, and I gritted my teeth when I saw him sneak a few kisses to her neck, which she seemingly just laughed off. Still, this made my stomach turn. I was just about to look away when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pepper suddenly grab for her phone and jab a finger at the screen, her eyes all fiery and accusing. (God, if ever there was a look of hers I knew by heart, it would be this one!) Nick looked like he was trying to backpedal his way out of something, but Pepper wasn't having it. So, it didn't take long before Nick stormed off, and Pepper swiveled around on her bar stool in a huff. Her back was to me again, so I couldn't see her face. But judging by her hunched shoulders, and the fact that her head was in her hands, I knew she wasn't in a good shape.
I winced in sympathy for her. Poor kid, I thought. Yeah, Nick wasn't my favorite person in the world, but I also didn't like seeing Pepper miserable, either. I desperately wanted to leave my ridiculously drunk fake fiancé at the table, and go make sure she was okay. But, of course, I couldn't. So I just watched helplessly.
I saw the bartender walk up to her, and they chatted for a minute. I wondered what he'd said to her because, after he walked away, she turned to look over her shoulder, and her eyes met mine. And there I was- completely busted.
But, much to my surprise, this didn't rattle her. She didn't even flinch. We just held each other's gazes, as if we both knew what the other was thinking. At least, it felt that way. I tried to show her my sympathy for the situation in my expression, but then Vanessa interrupted, taking my attention away as she leaned in to try to... I don't know what. Whisper something seductive to me? Nibble my earlobe? Reach a tentacle disguised as her tongue in through my ear canal and suck out my brain? Whatever it was, she was doing it poorly. And I was forced to take my eyes off of Pepper's as I recoiled and grimaced in disgust as a result.
"Dahhhhh' ling," Vanessa finally purred to me, giving up on whatever it was she was attempting to do, and backing off to be able to look at me. "I believe I've had enough of the night life. Why don't we go back to the hotel, and enjoy a little private time, hmmm?" she said, bopping me annoyingly on the nose with the tip of her pointer finger. Her lips then curled up in a devilish smile, and it was all I could do to swallow the bile that suddenly rose in the back of my throat. But I finally did, and nodded emphatically in agreement. It wasn't ideal, as I didn't want to leave Pepper behind, though I was relieved Nick was nowhere in sight. But at least this would get me the chance to shoot up again, as much as I hated to admit it. Because the last thing I (or Vanessa, for that matter) wanted was for me to start displaying the first stages of detoxing in public.
"Sure, Vanessa. Whatever. You know I need a fix anyway. So, let's go," I hurriedly told her, grabbing her by the upper arm and practically dragging her out of the booth. Then, once we were both standing- Vanessa wobbling more than standing- I grabbed her hand and directed us toward the front entrance. But not without sneaking a few fleeting glances in Pepper's direction, only to find that her eyes had stayed glued to us, and they followed us all the way out the door.
XxXxXxXx
And there they went, Tony marching away and Vanessa pretty much stumbling behind him as my eyes followed them out. Looking at his face, I could see he wasn't feeling well- his skin was a pasty pale color, and his eyes were glassy. He looked completely exhausted. But he had his brows furrowed, and he was practically yanking Vanessa along behind him, as if he was bound and determined to be anywhere else than here- which made my heart sink. Watching him leave only heightened my awareness of the fact that I, indeed, was totally alone at that moment. I groused bitterly. Why did things have to go so wrong tonight? I was supposed to be having sex right now, for God's sake! But instead, I was stuck here, by myself.
But it wasn't just that. I wasn't happy that Tony had left because, if I was being honest, something about his presence had always made me feel...better. I know, I know. He was the master of chaos, and I was always the one left to piece everything back together. But at the end of the day, he'd always known how to bring an unmistakable sense of excitement into a room, and subsequently, a sense of loss when he'd leave it. At least for me. And this is what I was feeling, even at this moment, as messed up as the circumstances were.
With that, my thoughts returned to worry for him, and I prayed they weren't leaving for the reasons I thought they might be, though I knew in my heart they were. Face it. It's either that Vanessa's feeling frisky again, or he needs a fix. And the truth is, it's probably both, I resolved regretfully. These days, that was his life. That's what Tony had been reduced to. Or rather, what she had reduced him to.
My teeth automatically gritted in response to this conclusion. I guess I was frowning pretty hard because I got the attention of the bartender again. "You know, most people opt to drown their sorrows when they're at a bar?" he commented, and I looked up, startled slightly at him breaking my brooding session. But he just smiled kindly.
"If you don't mind my saying, it doesn't look like you're as keen on leaving as you thought you were. So, in that case, I think you need something stronger than cranberry juice and club soda, if you're gonna stick around for a while," he went on to say. "Let me get you something, huh? Whatever you want. It's on the house. I know you've had a rough time."
I broke my frown, and forced a gracious smile. "I suppose you're right," I replied sheepishly.
He just nodded and smiled again. "So, what can I get you?" he asked.
I thought for a moment, and then shrugged. "A vodka martini, I guess? Extra dry, extra olives?" I said.
He smiled and briskly smacked the bar in front of me. "Now we're talking! Coming right up," he said with a grin, and walked away.
While I was waiting for him to come back, I turned my gaze out toward the other patrons. The band had come back from their break, and there were couples who had filled the dance floor once again. My eyes slowly drifted over each one, their intent focus on one another and contented expressions as they danced in each other's arms being the common denominator. This made me purse my lips, as I suddenly felt the sting of the fight Nick and I had had again. I really had enjoyed being with him earlier- that was, until I'd found out what he'd done.
Just as my hackles were beginning to rise again, the bartender appeared with my martini. "Just in time," I muttered under my breath, as he placed it on a cocktail napkin. "Thank you, again," I said graciously. I handed him a ten as a tip, and he smiled as he accepted it.
"Just try to relax, huh? And have a good time?" he asked.
I smiled and nodded. "I promise I'll at least try," I said. He chuckled, winked again, and walked away.
I raised my glass, and took a long pull off of it. The bartender was right. I might as well settle in for a little while. I was in no mood to face Nick back at the hotel just yet, on account of still feeling like I wanted to knock his head off. But, also? I was in no shape to go back to whatever goings on in the next room my ears would have to be subjected to with Vanessa and Tony.
XxXxXxXxXx
My skin had started crawling. I was sweating like a whore in church, and my stomach had started churning so hard that I was fighting to keep from ralphing fish tacos all over the back of the cab Vanessa and I had caught from the restaurant. She'd argued we should take our time, and just meander back, as the distance down the beach to the hotel wasn't that far, even though she could barely stand upright on her own. But I refused, as each precious second before I could get my hands on the next hit was slipping through my fingers like sand. It wasn't long before I'd be an incoherent, sweaty, quivering pile of toxicity. So, maximum efficiency was the name of the game at that moment in order to get back to the room in time to prevent it.
I scratched at the phantom itch in my arms, and panted and puffed as my heart began to race. "How much longer?!" I demanded of the driver, though I knew it was only going to be a few blocks.
"Not long," he said over his shoulder in reply.
Vanessa started cackling. "Can't wait to get your hands on me, eh, love?" she squealed, as she tried to wrap herself around my torso, but I shoved her back.
"Knock it off. You're drunk," I spat at her coldly.
"Mmmm hmmm. Naughty, naughty, naughty boy," she purred, ignoring my revolt and slithering up to my side again. "You'll have your fun soon enough. I promise."
Thankfully, the hotel soon came into view. "Oh, thank God," I grumbled, and lunged forward to lean over the seat, jabbing a hundred in the cabbie's direction, mumbling "Keep the change" in the process.
"Thank you, Sir!" he chirped, accepting the bill from me. He promptly stopped the car in the circular drive just outside the lobby.
I shoved the door open, and grabbed for Vanessa, praying she'd have the physical wherewithal enough to be able to move herself out of the car, through the lobby, and at least onto an elevator. After that, I didn't care. She could sleep in the hall all night if need be. I just needed to get back to the room. And fast.
After practically dragging her out of the car, and her stumbling a lot as the cab pulled away, Vanessa eventually somehow found her footing enough to walk with me toward the lobby and through the front doors. She was still babbling, while stumbling and giggling like a school girl, which garnered some strange looks from the other guests, but I paid no attention. I was a man on a mission.
We finally made it to the elevator banks, and I punched the up arrow. "Come on, damn you," I griped under my breath. I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin. I could hardly stand the feeling of even the pressure of the floor on the bottoms of my feet, so when Vanessa went back to hanging all over me, it felt like she was stabbing me with a million little daggers with each grope.
She attempted to wrap herself around me, and tongue my ear again, but I just gritted my teeth and bristled. "Get off of me, or I swear to God," I sniped at her.
"Patience, dah'ling! You'll get what you want soon enough," she hissed, and she started giggling again.
Finally, the bell dinged, and the doors slid open. I lunged inside and hurriedly mashed the button for our floor. Vanessa stumbled in with me, and rocked heavily against a corner to brace herself. We were the only ones climbing aboard, so, thankfully, it was going to be a straight shot to the room. Or so I thought.
Just as the doors were about to close, I heard a booming "Hoh! Going up!" from another guest, who stuck his meaty forearm in the closing doors, blocking them open.
"Son of a bitch," I muttered, as a guy, who had to be near the weight of a Volkswagen bus, a very portly woman whom I could only assume was his wife, and their three behemoth rolling suitcases, crowded in with us. They were a couple who appeared to be in their late 50's, and wearing God-awful matching bright blue Hawaiian shirts, with tan Bermuda shorts. They looked like the quintessential tourists- he, with his flip-open dark lenses attached to his glasses, and wearing a straw fedora, black socks and sandals, and she, with her bedazzled straw sun visor that tied together in the back, and a faux leather fanny pack clasped around her rather rotund waist- the straps, which were screaming for their lives, were just trying to keep from busting apart at the seams at any second.
"Thanks for waiting!" he said cheerfully. I bit my lip against my sudden ire over the intrusion, and gave him a curt nod. I prayed that they were somehow going to our floor, so the damned car wouldn't stop and waste any more of my precious time. But no dice. He punched the button for a floor that was nowhere near our own, and I huffed in disappointment.
"So, you kids here on vacation?" he asked me jovially, with a wide toothy grin once the doors actually did close, and we were on our way. I nodded again, trying to conserve any extra energy my body had left in it by not wasting it talking to this guy.
"Yep, yep, yep, yep," he said, his voice straining as he reached to hitch up his Bermudas. "The wife and I try to come down once a year. Have been since our honeymoon back in '83!" he elected to tell me.
"And we haven't missed a year, yet!" his wife said, piping up in reply.
"No sir-ee! Love the Cayman's. Love it here. I tell Helen every time we leave, that I can't wait to come back! Isn't that right, honey? Isn't that what I say?" he bellowed, making the inside of my head thunder even more with the splitting headache I'd developed between the cab ride and here. I squinted at him, as the dimmed bulbs in the elevator suddenly felt like searchlights beating down on us. Like we're fugitives. On the run. Man on the run. Paul McCartney. The Beatles. Hey, Jude, my delirious brain freely spewed into my consciousness. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, trying to quiet the non-sensical chatter.
"He does! He says that!" the woman he called Helen conceded, her shrill voice piercing my eardrums. Then she went on to babble some story about that fateful honeymoon which I quickly lost the plot of in my delirium, but I opened my eyes again anyway, flicking them over to her when she'd carried on talking. And what I saw made me recoil. Her face suddenly looked like she was a reflection in a fun house mirror. Her smile was all twisted and contorted, and her voice went from high and chirpy to a warped, low lag, like she was someone making an untraceable phone call to ask for ransom.
For the man on the run. Help, I've been kidnapped! Held hostage and drugged! Call 911!, my mind rattled. I scrubbed a hand over my face, and realized it was covered in sweat. Vanessa reached up to sloppily bat it down- I think in an attempt to hide what was happening- but she was too late. They'd caught on.
"Hey, there, buddy? You alright? You don't look so good," the guy said.
"He's feeling a bit under the weather, poor thing. Caught a nasty bug the day we got here, I'm afraid," Vanessa slurred quickly, in an attempt to explain. The two people suddenly recoiled, obviously not wanting to "catch" what it was they'd so innocently been exposed to.
"Geez, I hope it's not going around! Being sick on a vacation is the pits," Helen offered, as she reached for the zipper on that fanny pack around her waist, mercilessly jerking it open. "Harold, hands," she demanded, as she produced a small clear bottle full of a gel liquid of which she flipped open the white cap, and proceeded to squirt a healthy dollop of into his outstretched palm. Then she squirted more into her own palm, and they both began to vigorously rub it in to their hands simultaneously. "No offense, honey, but I intend to enjoy my vacation!" she chirped at me, with a snide smirk. The elevator car filled up with a nauseatingly floral stench mixed with rubbing alcohol, and I had to grit my teeth and swallow hard again to keep those fish tacos from making a sudden re-appearance. She'd have to get a LOT bigger bottle of hand sanitizer for THAT one!, I darkly thought to myself.
The elevator slowed to a stop, and I heard a ding, indicating we must've reached their floor. The doors slid open, and our temporary traveling companions prepared to disembark. Harold jammed a sandaled foot against the door to brace it as they collectively heaved the largest of their suitcases over the threshold, the both of them huffing and puffing in the effort. "Okay, there we go. We got 'er," Harold said, once they'd successfully shifted it to the hall. He stood upright, and hitched up his shorts again. Helen then rolled the other two out, pushing one in front of her, and pulling the other behind her.
Jesus! What the hell did these people pack?!, I wondered. Or at least that's what I wondered later, since, at that moment, I was more preoccupied with being on the brink of full drug-induced withdrawal, and couldn't give a monkey's left nut what the hell was in those suitcases because all I wanted them to do was get the hell outta there and let us be on our way.
But Harold- in all of his Neon-Blue-sofa-upholstery-Hawaiian-shirt-black-knee-socks-and-sandals-accessorized-with-flip-shades-wearing glory -didn't budge! He just stood there! Grinning! And reaching into his back pocket for...
Oh, GOD, what is he doing?! What in the name of all things HOLY is he REACHING for?!, my chemically-addled brain begged.
But suddenly, there it was! My eyes were assaulted with this...this...thing he shoved in my face! It was...his business card!
"If you're ever in Sheboygan, son, look us up!" he bellowed, followed by a disgruntled, "Oh, Harold. For Pete's sake, we're supposed to be on vacation!" in the background from an embarrassed Helen. But he ignored her, and proceeded to literally give me his elevator spiel anyway.
"Bob's Appliances, Parts and Service! All makes and models! Doesn't matter the job, just call Bob!" he prattled enthusiastically, his mouth frozen in his best local tv commercial grin he could muster. He's probably mugged for the camera this way a thousand times in his life, I wagered to myself.
I just squinted at him in confusion. I glanced at the card, still suspended in the sausage-like fingers that were holding it in front of my face, and then back at him. "I...thought your name was Harold?" I muttered hoarsely to him.
He quickly thawed, and moved to shove the card into my breast pocket. I would've objected, but my limbs felt like lead. So I just watched his hands. "Bought the place a year ago. The guy was a local legend, so I didn't have the heart to change it," he quickly informed me. Then came that grin back again, and he proceeded to smack me jovially on the shoulder, which made me jerk reflexively, and then groan in agony. "Hey! You kids have fun, huh? Love the Caymans! Love 'em!" he barked, then ending with a loud, hooting laugh as he finally got off the elevator and joined Helen in the hall. They both waved a goodbye to us, and I whimpered and slid further down the wall I'd been standing against, as Vanessa flailed her hand in a goodbye wave in return.
"What did you do that for? Those people aren't from Sheboygan!" I heard Helen hiss under her breath in a reprimand to her husband.
"Never miss an opportunity to network, honey! They might have family there or something!" he retorted before they'd gone out of ear shot, and the elevator doors slid closed again.
Vanessa let out a breathy sigh. "Lovely couple, weren't they? Do you suppose we'll be like that some day, my love?" she cooed. "Without those unfortunate matching shirts, of course!" she added.
I didn't answer. I couldn't. My ears were ringing and my heart was pounding out of my chest. My field of vision was growing dangerously narrow, and I thought I might lose consciousness at any moment. So I just chose to focus on breathing. And staying as steady as I could.
But Vanessa wasn't taking no for an answer. "Hmmm? Tony? Did you hear me?" she demanded, as she prodded me in the chest with her pointer finger to get my attention, obviously ignoring my rapid disintegration.
I perked my head up, and swiped in annoyance at her hand, batting it away. "Yes, Vanessa! I heard you! And at the rate I'm going right now, I'll be long dead by then!" I seethed in reply, as I attempted to heave myself off the wall to a standing position. She just pouted, but thankfully stopped talking as she sulked in her corner. I was listing back and forth, but still managed to right myself by griping the waist-height railing around the perimeter as the car lurched upwards again toward our floor.
Won't be long now, I thought, trying desperately to calm myself as we rose higher and higher to what was going to feel like the promised land once we got there. As long as I didn't pass out in the meantime.
