A small part of me, a tiny little bit, really hoped that my insecurity that was brought to life by Walter would somehow bring Clay back for another late night visit. And I hated that part of me because it felt so very like my mother.
I wasn't THAT woman. The woman who sat at home and was afraid to look out the window because she MIGHT see HIM drive by with HER, the other woman. That was my mom. NOT me.
Which is why I did something completely stupid and talked Carrie into doing it with me. After going home that night, sleeping in my childhood bed that smelled like Clay, while dreams of hotels in flames and his body entwined with limbs that were far too long and far too tanned to be mine tortured me, I woke up with an idea that I should have known was a horrible one. I did know it reeked of terribleness, since I didn't call Carrie or go to her house, oh no, I waited and went to the restaurant.
If you are going to do something incredibly stupid and irresponsible, it's always a good idea to make sure you make the plans where you can't be heard. I mean especially when your boyfriend and your best friend's boyfriend are both fucking black op freaks who probably have your underwear wired for sound. That's just common sense. I went to Enzo's during the lunch rush, pulled Carrie into the kitchen while a horde of loud Italian cooks were screaming at one another, and plotted for a girls' night out.
We both grinned like morons, which should have run both of our internal warning bells. Neither of us were rebels. We were the daughters of the town saints for fuck's sake, even if my saintly mother ate a bullet after marrying an idiot. No, Carrie and I were the good girls who were known for never missing curfew and always having a designated driver, usually being the designated drivers. So the fact that we were looking like the Grinch, Cheshire Cat, and Joker all rolled into one, should have tipped both of our stupid asses off, yet it didn't. I blame the emotional trauma that falling in love with men like Clay and Jensen can do to normal women. Actually I just blame Clay, period.
George and Davey weren't home when I got back from my ill wind errand, and when they did come back it was to tell me that they'd been asked to dinner by a few old friends and would I be alright for the evening. I took this as a sign that the stars and fate wanted us to have our evening out, I should have taken it as a sign of how fucked up my life was going to get. They were like giddy boys off to play hooky, which tells you how much television and board games we'd watched and played, and I got ready as soon as the door shut behind them.
Carrie came just as I was tossing my cell phone in a smaller clutch, slid my heels on, and we were out the door with a small note left for my uncles promising them I'd be fine and home before they even knew it.
We were giddy too, like George and Davey, without the urge to make out. Both of us were out of our element a bit, since we weren't up to the current trends for the bar and club scene we headed toward the boardwalk. Our town was touristy without the trappings of being an actual tourist trap, so we found a few promising places, and settled in when we entered the third bar. It had a dancefloor, a fully stocked and capable bar and bar staff, and finger foods.
Carrie and I made one rule: No talking about the boys. No Jensen. No Clay. And we stuck to it. We laughed and joked about our school days. We drank our drinks and drinks that were sent to us by men who must have been visiting our tiny hamlet, because we knew EVERYONE, but these people were unknown. We danced with one another, and with a few of our drink buyers. We had fun, and for a few hours we both dropped the worry about our guys and their team off our shoulders and just lived.
It was closing time, Carrie had excused herself to go to the ladies before we walked back to my uncles' house, she agreed to spend the night since I wasn't planning on letting her walk home alone and our house was closest, when one of the more frequent of our dance partners saddled up next to me.
"Need a ride home?" He was standing closer than I cared for, so I took a step to the side, but he followed me. Ugh. "You don't look up for driving yourself."
"I'm fine," Carrie had started walking toward us and I smiled. "My date and I plan on walking home together."
"Why walk when I can drive you?" He was persistent, I'd give him that. Carrie was close enough to touch, but the man stepped in front of me and I glared up at him, now he was being a dick. "Don't be like that, Char, I bought you enough drinks to down a guy three times your size."
"How do you-" a pinch hit my neck and my lips started to tingle. "Wha-" my tongue no longer wanted to cooperate and I blinked up at the man in front of me, but I couldn't seem to focus on his features.
"Get the other one," a voice muttered behind me, and then I felt something yanking at me, but my eyes must have gone crossed because everything went fuzzy and dark.
I woke up in a room that was completely dark. I mean, pitch black dark. Or was it? I blinked and felt like something was over my face, was that my blanket? Damn it, I hated it when my blanket ended up over my face during the night. I reached for it, but my arms wouldn't raise up. I tried again, nothing. What the fuck?!
"I think she's awake." That voice, where did I know that voice from? "Yeah, the other one isn't." I heard a thump and a chuckle. "Hope you didn't fuck up the dosage, they don't want 'em dead yet."
Dead, yet? I felt the alcohol I'd drank bubble in my stomach and prayed to God to keep it down. Throwing up while my fucking head was covered, while tied the fuck down would be a quick way to get rid of the 'yet' portion of their equation.
"Should we call 'em?" Another voice asked, still somewhat familiar, but not really. "Tell 'em that we got 'em and that one is waking up?"
A sigh. "Yeah, I guess. 'Specially since the one they want is awake, other one is more of a spare anyway." Spare? Carrie, I shut my eyes, fuck. I fucked all the way up. So fucking fucked up. Shit.
The next time I heard voices I had NO trouble knowing who they came from, no trouble at all, and I was at least calmer now because Carrie had made some noises that said she was alive.
"Why are they tied up AND their heads covered?" One of the Xavier twins asked, sounding peeved. "One precaution was more than enough." He sighed. "Didn't you say they were out drinking?" I heard an affirmative.
"Then wouldn't tying them up while they were UPRIGHT or at least seated upright been smarter?" Since the voice came from the other side of me, I knew it was the other twin. "I miss Wade, he wouldn't have made a mess like this one." He sounded like he was reminiscing about an old friend or a pet.
"Right, sorry," one of the minions, clearly. "Should I-"
"Yes," the first twin sounded like he was bleeding patience. "Remove the hoods, and untie them one at a time and retie them to the chairs."
A long suffering sigh in stereo told me both twins were feeling like they should have splurged on better help. And then my dark mask was gone and I was blinking in light so bright that I kind of wished I had it back. I hissed at the way it stung my eyes, made my brain feel like it was throbbing inside my fucking skull, and wish I was dead already so at least the light wouldn't hurt me anymore. The sound repeated from my right, so I knew Carrie and I weren't going to be repeating girls' night anytime soon, if we survived this, I mean.
"Ah, hello, Charlotte." And as if the world wasn't cruel enough after a drinking binge that ended in a kidnapping, hovering over my face were two of the most obnoxious looking assholes I'd ever seen, twins who made me want to vomit.
No sooner had one of the roofie minions untied me, then I rolled to the side and vomited every single ounce of what was left in my stomach after my girls' night out, all over- I had to wait until my stomach was empty to check, but seeing the black glove I smiled, wiping my mouth I glanced up. "Oops, sorry, Alex." My triumph was short lived, first the backhand, then the fist full of my hair yanking my aching head back so he could tell me how much I was going to regret my mess and my choices in men causing me more pain than I cared to admit.
"Tie her and her little friend up," Matthew ordered, having stepped well out of the path should Carrie follow my suit. "Pity you had to bring Carrie into your mess, Charlotte." He tisked, adjusting his suit cuffs. "Alex, you should change, if we get that to a dry cleaner perhaps they can salvage it."
I rolled my eyes as the minion tied me to a chair. "Yeah, because losing that suit would be a fucking tragedy of epic proportions." Another slap and I thought I was going to have to fucking find my verbal filter before I ended up with whiplash. "Damn it." I was squinting against the pain and the brutally bright light. "Could we at least darken the room a bit?"
"No," Matthew again, since Alex seemed incapable of speech. "We'll be back once you two-" he looked at the idiots who'd abducted us. "Clean that horrible mess she made up."
"Yeah, we wouldn't want the torture to be interupted by the scent of my vomit," I muttered, and was hit again. "For fuck's sake, man. It's an ugly suit." Alex was glaring down at me and I swear, he was foaming a bit at the mouth.
"It's ARMANI." He spit out and I smirked.
"It's UGLY ARMANI." I retorted and earned another smack. For fuck's sake, Charlotte, shut the fuck up. "Ouch, that hurt."
It was Alex's turn to smirk. "And to think, we're just getting started."
He walked out with his twin, and I sighed in relief. Maybe a bit of a reprieve would help me reapply my fucking filter before I got my brain rattled out of my head and my teeth loosened. "Carrie?" I heard her whimper and I bit my lip. "I'm sorry."
"I know." She whispered, as we listened to the two assholes who plied us with drinks bickering about who got to clean up my puke before their masters came back to torture us, or at least me.
