Disclaimer: My voicemail was acting up, so if Randy and/or WWE called to give me ownership (c'mon, we all know they did) I didn't get the message. Dammit.
"How'd you know?"
"Your drink? You look like a Jack kinda girl…" Randy put the drink in front of her and sat down. He watched with interest as she picked up the lime and twisted the citrus juice in the glass, stirring absentmindedly. He looked at her graceful hands, the sinews of the muscles flexing ever so slightly. He noticed her knuckles were turning white as she gripped the drink tightly, and he was surprised that he apparently had the same effect on her that she was currently having on him. Her nails were bare except for a clear polish, and for some reason, that enticed him.
"So, I think we somehow managed to get off on the wrong foot this afternoon, and I'm sorry about that. I don't always realize how much of a jackass I can be." Randy wanted to say anything to get her talking again, to look at him, to show him that she knew he was still here.
Leigh sighed and leaned forward, her right palm holding her forehead; her thin frame showed signs of defeat. "We both know you weren't being a jackass. I over-reacted, but I don't like it when people assume things about me."
"You make it difficult not to assume anything. From what I hear, you don't like to offer up much in the way of information." Leigh looked at him, finally, chewing the inside of her cheek.
"What do you want to know?" It was a challenge. Randy laughed because he didn't know what else to do—he didn't want to ask the one question that had been on his mind since he sat down at the table tonight because he was afraid of the answer. So he decided to move into it slowly, to lower her defenses. He, too, leaned forward on the table and held her gaze.
"Let's start easy: favorite book? movie? color?"
Leigh pondered for a moment and picked up her drink. When the coaster stuck to the bottom of the glass, she chuckled and reached again for the salt shaker. "To Kill a Mockingbird on the first two; the color changes depending on my mood."
"OK, so you're a fan of the classics; I respect that. When you were younger, what did you want to be when you grew up?"
"Miss Elizabeth, but with better clothes."
"Hey-she was my first crush when I was little. She used to let me sit on her lap when my dad had a match. Next question: what'd you study in school?" He picked up his draft beer and took a long drink without ever taking his eyes off Leigh. She was relaxing but becoming more aware; no longer was he allowing her to sit on the sidelines like Ric had done earlier. No, he needed her to be an active participant in this conversation.
"Business, with an emphasis in marketing and male members of the ROTC on Thursdays."
"Why only Thursdays?"
"They had to wear their dress blues to class on Thursdays," she grinned.
"Really?" Randy raised his eyebrow. "I think my uniform still fits; maybe someday I'll break it out for you." Leigh laughed heartily at this, clearly not realizing that the future WWE champion was formerly a Marine. "Do you drink beer?"
"I lived in the land of microbrews for 4 wonderful years. I didn't gain the freshman fifteen until I was in my junior year and officially 21. My favorite is Sunshine Wheat, with a slice of lemon. If I'm going mass-produced, I prefer Miller Lite. If I'm anywhere sunny and warm, Corona"
"How old were you when you had your first kiss?"
"Sixteen and one day." Leigh smiled at the memory. "My mom and best friend had decided to throw me a surprise party for the day after my birthday. My friend invited this boy from my church that I'd had a crush on for years and he actually showed up. He drove a bright red Camaro, which I thought was the coolest thing ever, but looking back on it now, I think he was overcompensating. I had an excuse for being a bad kisser; he was just gross. Got over my crush really quick, though."
"Family?"
"2 older brothers, but we're not very close. They had moved out already by the time I was in grade school. Both parents are alive and still married to one another. I have a good relationship with my dad, but we don't really talk all that much. I'm close to my mom though."
"And what about your husband?" Leigh, who had been fidgeting with her glass, stopped suddenly. She knew it was going to come up, but she hadn't expected it so soon. Not after watching Paul and Stephanie all day, not after seeing the looks they shared when they didn't think anyone else was watching. She resumed stirring her drink and raised the glass to her lips to sip it slowly. She wanted something to slow this conversation down, to take a break and go back to idle small talk.
"I'm not married," she answered quietly, so much so that Randy would have missed it if he wasn't leaning over the corner of the table to her, straining to hear every word that escaped her lips.
"You're wearing a wedding band," Randy said, just as quietly, and indicated the platinum and diamond eternity band that Leigh was wearing on the third finger of her left hand. She slipped her hand under the table, knowing that it was already too late. Leigh wouldn't look at Randy so she couldn't see the emotion in his eyes.
"Yeah."
"You weren't wearing one when I met you earlier," he said. He leaned into her so she wouldn't mistake what he said, the underlying meaning of the words hanging loosely in the air. Leigh looked up at him suddenly, her breath caught when she realized how close he was to her; her heart pounded wildly and she was surprised he didn't hear it.
"You're very observant."
"You've got that effect on me. Why wouldn't you tell anyone you'd been married? What happened?" Randy sat back in his chair giving them both some much needed air. He couldn't be that close to her, not at this moment. He needed to keep his emotions in check to have this conversation.
"You know, usually when someone states bluntly that they're not married, that's a hint that they don't want to discuss it." Leigh looked at him with fire blazing in her normally serene hazel eyes.
"If you didn't want to talk about it, why do you wear the ring?"
"And yet he keeps talking about it," she said to herself incredulously. "Stephanie said we were going to a bar; I don't like getting hit on by strange men, so I put on my wedding ring. It's a defense mechanism, one that a lot of women use even if they've never been married."
"Bullshit. Even if you thought we were going to some club, you knew you were going to be surrounded by at least 10 very large men. No guy in any bar would have approached you unless you made a move." Randy caught her eyes and held them. He didn't want her to get away from this conversation; he wanted a straight answer, at least for his own peace of mind. He wasn't lying when he said Leigh affected him: He wanted to know everything about this woman, including why she was wearing a wedding ring if she wasn't married.
"Maybe those 10 very large men were the ones I wanted to keep at a distance," Leigh countered, knowing deep down it wasn't true even if she didn't-couldn't-admit it to herself. She looked him in the eyes, daring him to continue questioning her.
"OK, folks, time to close up," an unfamiliar voice rang out, breaking them from their trance. "It was good seeing you again, Randy. Hope you come back again soon." It was the owner, who also apparently doubled as the bartender. The man took both empty glasses from the table and began wiping it down.
Leigh and Randy stood up simultaneously and began gathering their things. There was much left unspoken between the two and Randy had no intention of leaving it this way. Randy stood aside to let Leigh walk past and placed his hand at the base of her spine as he did so, leading the way from behind. The outside air was much chillier despite the summer heat and Leigh shivered, though if she admitted it the reaction had more to do with Randy's touch than with the change in temperature.
"You are so out of line, Orton," Leigh started, turning around to face him. "My personal life is absolutely none of your business." Randy looked down at the ground, his shoulders slumped, and let out a sigh. He raised his head to look at the sky and ran his hands down his face. Finally, he looked at Leigh and realized she was seething in anger. Her body was shaking as she glared at him, her full lips compressed into a thin line. "What went on in my life before WWE has no effect on you and your assumption that I would tell you is ridiculous. Until today, we've never spoken, we've never laid eyes on one another, we've never gotten in each other's way. What makes you think that you can sit down and start some kind of inquisition? Did someone put you up to this? Did someone ask you to do this? What the hell, Randy? What did you fucking think I was gonna do? Did you think I would tell you everything that went on in my sad little existence and then cry on your shoulder and let you take me to bed? Jesus Christ!" Leigh spat the questions at him, one after another after another. Her voice, which started out calmly and very much controlled, grew louder and louder after each question. She actually yelled out her last exclamation before turning and walking away.
"Leigh, wait!" Randy cried, chasing after her and grabbing her arm. She turned to him with tears in her eyes. They hadn't spilled over, not yet, and Randy doubted if she would ever allow them to do so, knowing she wouldn't, at least not in his presence. But behind the tears the anger was still there, anger at him for what he is currently doing, and anger for whatever the man before him had done. He had obviously touched a nerve with his questioning and hadn't realized that he had pushed her so far past her breaking point. He hadn't meant to cause her so much pain and bring up such terrifying memories, but didn't know how else to bring her out of the shell she had so carefully created around herself. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was so personal—".
Her eyes grew wide behind her glasses frames. "Didn't know it was so personal? You know what, Orton? I call bullshit this time. You were asking me about my marriage—you can't think that wasn't personal," Leigh cried. Randy just looked at her, not saying anything, waiting for her to continue, not knowing if she would. She sighed and turned away, not sure what her next move should be. Should she just go ahead and tell him? Would he leave her be after that? Did she want him to, even now? "Look, I don't know what to say to you at this point. It's late; I'm slightly drunk and really emotional right now. What I do know is I can't continue this conversation, not like this, not in a parking lot with a 75 year-old bartender staring at us out the window while he pretends to count his till."
"Do you want to continue it? Do you want to go somewhere? Judging from your reaction, I'm thinking that you've got a lot to say and no one to say it to. I promise you I didn't mean to piss you off, I had no ulterior motives. I just wanted to know more about you. Yes, granted I should have backed off a while ago, but like I said earlier, I don't always know what a jackass I can be." Randy looked at her in earnest, begging her with his eyes to believe him. She was the most fascinating woman he had ever come into contact with and he would not allow her to walk away and blow him off again.
Leigh looked at him, hard, trying to figure out if he really meant it. She had never been one to open up readily, even to her closest friends, and she didn't know why she had the urge to do so with him. She dropped her gaze and looked around, seeing her rental car close by. She walked over to it and leaned against the hood; folding her arms across her chest and crossing her right leg in front of her left, she finally met his eyes. "My husband's name was Jim. We were married for 2 years but he's gone now. He was a great guy, and we were really happy, so it took me completely by surprise, no warning, nothing; just gone. My life in Houston… it got to be too much this past year. When I had the chance to get away, I jumped at it, and now, here I am."
"Can I ask a question?" he said meekly, not wanting to start another tirade.
"Now you want permission?" she chuckled and wiped away a tear that had yet to fall. Randy walked so that he was standing directly in front of her, with her eyes on his chest. He considered briefly the idea of putting his arms around her, holding her so she would let the tears flow, but reconsidered when he remembered the outburst only moments before, when she accused him of trying to get her to sleep with him. He settled for leaning on the car alongside her, their arms touching. Maybe if she didn't have to look directly at him, she'd talk easier.
"What happened? Why'd he leave you?"
She laughed again and looked at him. "Pretty ballsy, Orton. He didn't leave by choice; he died about a year ago. The how I'll save for another night when a lot of tequila is involved. It'll have to be in a hotel room so I can just pass out right there. There will more than likely be crying and I can guarantee there'll be some vomiting because I hate tequila." She took a deep breath and held it before slowly letting it out, as though in defeat. "For the record, I hate you for tonight."
"Please don't say that. I really don't want that," he replied looking down at her.
Leigh sighed and finally turned to him. "I guess that can't really be called an argument since I did a majority of the yelling." She stated this matter-of-factly.
"Granted, but I deserved it; I'm not even going to try to get out of it. I was an ass, plain and simple. But, for the record, I wasn't doing this to get you to sleep with me. I, honest to God, just really wanted to know what was going on with you. The cookie cutter answers I got from Paul and that you confirmed in there with the guys…those just drove me nuts. Just think, though, if you had only expounded a little bit before, this wouldn't have happened. I'm glad it did, by the way, and I'm especially glad you didn't slap me, although I wouldn't have blamed you if you had."
She smiled at him; a real smile. She didn't know why she told him as much as she had, but she was greatful that he was there to hear it. "Listen, Randy, could we…"
He cut her off. "I was thinking this should stay between us. Unless you want the entire locker room to know, then I'll Chris and you're guaranteed that it'll out by the house shows this weekend. All of SmackDown will know by next Monday's broadcast." He caught the look in her eyes. "It's not my story to tell, Leigh. If you're ready, you can tell people what happened. If not, that's fine, too. Just please, do me a favor and don't wear your wedding ring anymore. I know you think you're protecting yourself, but honestly? It just causes a lot more questions," he took her left hand as he said this and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly and sliding the ring off as he did so. Her breath caught in the back of her throat again as she savored his gentle touch. Opening her hand, Randy placed the ring in the center of her palm and closed her fingers around it. "Go on, get in. I'll follow you back to your hotel to make sure you get there okay."
Leigh did as he said and, once inside, took a moment to breathe. She looked again at the ring in her hand and spent minutes going over the wonderful memories that it represented. She sighed as she realized that, if she indeed wanted to move forward, she would have to say good-bye to the past. Suddenly, headlights swerved in her rearview mirror and she realized that Randy had indeed pulled up behind her as promised. She went to start the car and groaned when nothing happened.
A/N: So, there's Jim. There will be more to the story; like I said, a night filled with tequila and vomiting (don't those two always go well together? That's the rest of the chant, you know: lick, shot, squeeze, puke). Thanks again for everyone that's reviewed; you're all good people and I love you for it. Please be safe.
"How'd you know?"
"Your drink? You look like a Jack kinda girl…" Randy put the drink in front of her and sat down. He watched with interest as she picked up the lime and twisted the citrus juice in the glass, stirring absentmindedly. He looked at her graceful hands, the sinews of the muscles flexing ever so slightly. He noticed her knuckles were turning white as she gripped the drink tightly, and he was surprised that he apparently had the same effect on her that she was currently having on him. Her nails were bare except for a clear polish, and for some reason, that enticed him.
"So, I think we somehow managed to get off on the wrong foot this afternoon, and I'm sorry about that. I don't always realize how much of a jackass I can be." Randy wanted to say anything to get her talking again, to look at him, to show him that she knew he was still here.
Leigh sighed and leaned forward, her right palm holding her forehead; her thin frame showed signs of defeat. "We both know you weren't being a jackass. I over-reacted, but I don't like it when people assume things about me."
"You make it difficult not to assume anything. From what I hear, you don't like to offer up much in the way of information." Leigh looked at him, finally, chewing the inside of her cheek.
"What do you want to know?" It was a challenge. Randy laughed because he didn't know what else to do—he didn't want to ask the one question that had been on his mind since he sat down at the table tonight because he was afraid of the answer. So he decided to move into it slowly, to lower her defenses. He, too, leaned forward on the table and held her gaze.
"Let's start easy: favorite book? movie? color?"
Leigh pondered for a moment and picked up her drink. When the coaster stuck to the bottom of the glass, she chuckled and reached again for the salt shaker. "To Kill a Mockingbird on the first two; the color changes depending on my mood."
"OK, so you're a fan of the classics; I respect that. When you were younger, what did you want to be when you grew up?"
"Miss Elizabeth, but with better clothes."
"Hey-she was my first crush when I was little. She used to let me sit on her lap when my dad had a match. Next question: what'd you study in school?" He picked up his draft beer and took a long drink without ever taking his eyes off Leigh. She was relaxing but becoming more aware; no longer was he allowing her to sit on the sidelines like Ric had done earlier. No, he needed her to be an active participant in this conversation.
"Business, with an emphasis in marketing and male members of the ROTC on Thursdays."
"Why only Thursdays?"
"They had to wear their dress blues to class on Thursdays," she grinned.
"Really?" Randy raised his eyebrow. "I think my uniform still fits; maybe someday I'll break it out for you." Leigh laughed heartily at this, clearly not realizing that the future WWE champion was formerly a Marine. "Do you drink beer?"
"I lived in the land of microbrews for 4 wonderful years. I didn't gain the freshman fifteen until I was in my junior year and officially 21. My favorite is Sunshine Wheat, with a slice of lemon. If I'm going mass-produced, I prefer Miller Lite. If I'm anywhere sunny and warm, Corona"
"How old were you when you had your first kiss?"
"Sixteen and one day." Leigh smiled at the memory. "My mom and best friend had decided to throw me a surprise party for the day after my birthday. My friend invited this boy from my church that I'd had a crush on for years and he actually showed up. He drove a bright red Camaro, which I thought was the coolest thing ever, but looking back on it now, I think he was overcompensating. I had an excuse for being a bad kisser; he was just gross. Got over my crush really quick, though."
"Family?"
"2 older brothers, but we're not very close. They had moved out already by the time I was in grade school. Both parents are alive and still married to one another. I have a good relationship with my dad, but we don't really talk all that much. I'm close to my mom though."
"And what about your husband?" Leigh, who had been fidgeting with her glass, stopped suddenly. She knew it was going to come up, but she hadn't expected it so soon. Not after watching Paul and Stephanie all day, not after seeing the looks they shared when they didn't think anyone else was watching. She resumed stirring her drink and raised the glass to her lips to sip it slowly. She wanted something to slow this conversation down, to take a break and go back to idle small talk.
"I'm not married," she answered quietly, so much so that Randy would have missed it if he wasn't leaning over the corner of the table to her, straining to hear every word that escaped her lips.
"You're wearing a wedding band," Randy said, just as quietly, and indicated the platinum and diamond eternity band that Leigh was wearing on the third finger of her left hand. She slipped her hand under the table, knowing that it was already too late. Leigh wouldn't look at Randy so she couldn't see the emotion in his eyes.
"Yeah."
"You weren't wearing one when I met you earlier," he said. He leaned into her so she wouldn't mistake what he said, the underlying meaning of the words hanging loosely in the air. Leigh looked up at him suddenly, her breath caught when she realized how close he was to her; her heart pounded wildly and she was surprised he didn't hear it.
"You're very observant."
"You've got that effect on me. Why wouldn't you tell anyone you'd been married? What happened?" Randy sat back in his chair giving them both some much needed air. He couldn't be that close to her, not at this moment. He needed to keep his emotions in check to have this conversation.
"You know, usually when someone states bluntly that they're not married, that's a hint that they don't want to discuss it." Leigh looked at him with fire blazing in her normally serene hazel eyes.
"If you didn't want to talk about it, why do you wear the ring?"
"And yet he keeps talking about it," she said to herself incredulously. "Stephanie said we were going to a bar; I don't like getting hit on by strange men, so I put on my wedding ring. It's a defense mechanism, one that a lot of women use even if they've never been married."
"Bullshit. Even if you thought we were going to some club, you knew you were going to be surrounded by at least 10 very large men. No guy in any bar would have approached you unless you made a move." Randy caught her eyes and held them. He didn't want her to get away from this conversation; he wanted a straight answer, at least for his own peace of mind. He wasn't lying when he said Leigh affected him: He wanted to know everything about this woman, including why she was wearing a wedding ring if she wasn't married.
"Maybe those 10 very large men were the ones I wanted to keep at a distance," Leigh countered, knowing deep down it wasn't true even if she didn't-couldn't-admit it to herself. She looked him in the eyes, daring him to continue questioning her.
"OK, folks, time to close up," an unfamiliar voice rang out, breaking them from their trance. "It was good seeing you again, Randy. Hope you come back again soon." It was the owner, who also apparently doubled as the bartender. The man took both empty glasses from the table and began wiping it down.
Leigh and Randy stood up simultaneously and began gathering their things. There was much left unspoken between the two and Randy had no intention of leaving it this way. Randy stood aside to let Leigh walk past and placed his hand at the base of her spine as he did so, leading the way from behind. The outside air was much chillier despite the summer heat and Leigh shivered, though if she admitted it the reaction had more to do with Randy's touch than with the change in temperature.
"You are so out of line, Orton," Leigh started, turning around to face him. "My personal life is absolutely none of your business." Randy looked down at the ground, his shoulders slumped, and let out a sigh. He raised his head to look at the sky and ran his hands down his face. Finally, he looked at Leigh and realized she was seething in anger. Her body was shaking as she glared at him, her full lips compressed into a thin line. "What went on in my life before WWE has no effect on you and your assumption that I would tell you is ridiculous. Until today, we've never spoken, we've never laid eyes on one another, we've never gotten in each other's way. What makes you think that you can sit down and start some kind of inquisition? Did someone put you up to this? Did someone ask you to do this? What the hell, Randy? What did you fucking think I was gonna do? Did you think I would tell you everything that went on in my sad little existence and then cry on your shoulder and let you take me to bed? Jesus Christ!" Leigh spat the questions at him, one after another after another. Her voice, which started out calmly and very much controlled, grew louder and louder after each question. She actually yelled out her last exclamation before turning and walking away.
"Leigh, wait!" Randy cried, chasing after her and grabbing her arm. She turned to him with tears in her eyes. They hadn't spilled over, not yet, and Randy doubted if she would ever allow them to do so, knowing she wouldn't, at least not in his presence. But behind the tears the anger was still there, anger at him for what he is currently doing, and anger for whatever the man before him had done. He had obviously touched a nerve with his questioning and hadn't realized that he had pushed her so far past her breaking point. He hadn't meant to cause her so much pain and bring up such terrifying memories, but didn't know how else to bring her out of the shell she had so carefully created around herself. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was so personal—".
Her eyes grew wide behind her glasses frames. "Didn't know it was so personal? You know what, Orton? I call bullshit this time. You were asking me about my marriage—you can't think that wasn't personal," Leigh cried. Randy just looked at her, not saying anything, waiting for her to continue, not knowing if she would. She sighed and turned away, not sure what her next move should be. Should she just go ahead and tell him? Would he leave her be after that? Did she want him to, even now? "Look, I don't know what to say to you at this point. It's late; I'm slightly drunk and really emotional right now. What I do know is I can't continue this conversation, not like this, not in a parking lot with a 75 year-old bartender staring at us out the window while he pretends to count his till."
"Do you want to continue it? Do you want to go somewhere? Judging from your reaction, I'm thinking that you've got a lot to say and no one to say it to. I promise you I didn't mean to piss you off, I had no ulterior motives. I just wanted to know more about you. Yes, granted I should have backed off a while ago, but like I said earlier, I don't always know what a jackass I can be." Randy looked at her in earnest, begging her with his eyes to believe him. She was the most fascinating woman he had ever come into contact with and he would not allow her to walk away and blow him off again.
Leigh looked at him, hard, trying to figure out if he really meant it. She had never been one to open up readily, even to her closest friends, and she didn't know why she had the urge to do so with him. She dropped her gaze and looked around, seeing her rental car close by. She walked over to it and leaned against the hood; folding her arms across her chest and crossing her right leg in front of her left, she finally met his eyes. "My husband's name was Jim. We were married for 2 years but he's gone now. He was a great guy, and we were really happy, so it took me completely by surprise, no warning, nothing; just gone. My life in Houston… it got to be too much this past year. When I had the chance to get away, I jumped at it, and now, here I am."
"Can I ask a question?" he said meekly, not wanting to start another tirade.
"Now you want permission?" she chuckled and wiped away a tear that had yet to fall. Randy walked so that he was standing directly in front of her, with her eyes on his chest. He considered briefly the idea of putting his arms around her, holding her so she would let the tears flow, but reconsidered when he remembered the outburst only moments before, when she accused him of trying to get her to sleep with him. He settled for leaning on the car alongside her, their arms touching. Maybe if she didn't have to look directly at him, she'd talk easier.
"What happened? Why'd he leave you?"
She laughed again and looked at him. "Pretty ballsy, Orton. He didn't leave by choice; he died about a year ago. The how I'll save for another night when a lot of tequila is involved. It'll have to be in a hotel room so I can just pass out right there. There will more than likely be crying and I can guarantee there'll be some vomiting because I hate tequila." She took a deep breath and held it before slowly letting it out, as though in defeat. "For the record, I hate you for tonight."
"Please don't say that. I really don't want that," he replied looking down at her.
Leigh sighed and finally turned to him. "I guess that can't really be called an argument since I did a majority of the yelling." She stated this matter-of-factly.
"Granted, but I deserved it; I'm not even going to try to get out of it. I was an ass, plain and simple. But, for the record, I wasn't doing this to get you to sleep with me. I, honest to God, just really wanted to know what was going on with you. The cookie cutter answers I got from Paul and that you confirmed in there with the guys…those just drove me nuts. Just think, though, if you had only expounded a little bit before, this wouldn't have happened. I'm glad it did, by the way, and I'm especially glad you didn't slap me, although I wouldn't have blamed you if you had."
She smiled at him; a real smile. She didn't know why she told him as much as she had, but she was greatful that he was there to hear it. "Listen, Randy, could we…"
He cut her off. "I was thinking this should stay between us. Unless you want the entire locker room to know, then I'll Chris and you're guaranteed that it'll out by the house shows this weekend. All of SmackDown will know by next Monday's broadcast." He caught the look in her eyes. "It's not my story to tell, Leigh. If you're ready, you can tell people what happened. If not, that's fine, too. Just please, do me a favor and don't wear your wedding ring anymore. I know you think you're protecting yourself, but honestly? It just causes a lot more questions," he took her left hand as he said this and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly and sliding the ring off as he did so. Her breath caught in the back of her throat again as she savored his gentle touch. Opening her hand, Randy placed the ring in the center of her palm and closed her fingers around it. "Go on, get in. I'll follow you back to your hotel to make sure you get there okay."
Leigh did as he said and, once inside, took a moment to breathe. She looked again at the ring in her hand and spent minutes going over the wonderful memories that it represented. She sighed as she realized that, if she indeed wanted to move forward, she would have to say good-bye to the past. Suddenly, headlights swerved in her rearview mirror and she realized that Randy had indeed pulled up behind her as promised. She went to start the car and groaned when nothing happened.
A/N: So, there's Jim. There will be more to the story; like I said, a night filled with tequila and vomiting (don't those two always go well together? That's the rest of the chant, you know: lick, shot, squeeze, puke). Thanks again for everyone that's reviewed; you're all good people and I love you for it. Please be safe.