Chapter 13: Drunken Mistakes
Maureen stumbled out onto the dark street, letting the dampness envelope her. The quiet night-time was a loud change from the noisy bar that she just left. She walked in hours ago, just after she left Mark's loft. Her anger needed a pastime, and beer seemed like a good one.
She found her way down a street, eyes looking out every corner. She saw a figure remove itself from the shadows.
"Hey," she heard herself call to the being, "how are you?" Her words slurred, but the person understood.
"Good, honey," they said, "and you?"
Maureen looked the person up and down. Her long legs were wrapped in purple fishnets that lead to a white mini skirt. A plastic jacket hid her chest slightly, and her black hair laced her shoulders. Large, purple eyelashes were glued into place, adding a feminine look to the masculine features.
"I'll be better soon," Maureen told her, handing over a wad of bills.
"You should know," the hooker said, "I got a little present." She lifted her skirt to show that she wasn't, in face, a woman.
"I'm liking you more and more," the drama queen grinned, throwing her arm around the person.
"Call me Candy," the prostitute told her, "Candy Cane."
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Maureen opened her eyes, and groaned in pain. As she rolled over and pulled the covers over her head, she smelled something musty. She looked at the grey blanket in her hands. I'm not at home, she thought.
Sitting up, her head began to pound. In spite of the worsening hangover, and thought about her surroundings. She was lying, naked, in a strange, smelly bed. The room was one of a cheap hotel below 14th Street.
"Sh-t," she mumbled, and stood herself up. Looking in the mirror, she knew she was a mess. "What did I do to myself?" she asked.