by ANDREA SMITH
I finally managed to crawl up from my crouched position. I flushed the toilet, staggering over to the double sink vanity. I looked like something a cat puked up. My mascara was smeared have way down my check on each side. My eyes were bloodshot and my hair was matted with something. I ran my fingers through it and realized it was vomit.
(Eeww!)
I debated whether I could stand long enough to get a shower. There was no way I was going to bed with puke in my hair. I made my way to my room, using the walls on each side of the hall to bounce off of until I reached it. I grabbed clean undies and Trey’s navy blue bathrobe. I headed back to Trey’s bathroom.
Once there, I peeled my clothes off. Thank God my period was over and I didn't have to deal with that. I stepped out of my clothes and turned the shower on, getting the temperature adjusted. I stepped in and began scrubbing myself with a wash cloth and Trey’s body wash. I shampooed my hair, twice. I wrapped my hair up in a towel turban style. I put Trey's robe on and padded out into the bedroom.
Trey's closet was nearly the size of a small bedroom.
I turned the light on and stepped in. He had rows of neatly pressed shirts, dress pants, casual pants and shirts.
I saw one of his french cuffed white business shirts hanging on a hook, as if he had changed quickly and hadn’t had time to throw it in the laundry chute that was in the bathroom. I lifted one of the sleeves on it to my face, catching the scent of Trey. I quickly shed the robe and put the shirt on, rolling up the sleeves as their length went clear over my hands. I buttoned it up to just above my breasts. I rubbed it against my skin.
I returned to Trey’s bathroom and brushed my teeth and then gargled. My head was still pounding. I dug through the medicine chest and found some Advil. I took two, washing them down with water from the faucet as I cupped my hands to catch it.
I didn’t bother to take the towel off of my head; I went back into the bedroom, pulled down the covers of Trey’s bed and climbed in, pulling the blankets up under my chin. I looked over at the clock on Trey’s bedside table. It was almost 3 a.m. How did we even get back here? I must have had a blackout. That was scary.
It seemed as if no time had passed since my head hit the pillow that there was a faint knocking on my door.
“Come in,” I called out, the echo of my voice reverberating in my head, amplified a hundred times.
Gina bounced in, wearing her short silk robe, with a cup of coffee and her unlit cigarette. She hopped up on the bed, putting her coffee on the nightstand, while she climbed under the covers.
“You going to sleep all day, girlfriend?” she asked in her usual bubbly manner.
She grabbed the remote off the nightstand, and hit the ‘on’ button. The huge flat screen television that was mounted flush to the opposite wall came on. She channel surfed as well as any man I knew, and just before I was about to snap at her to stop, she landed a channel that caught her attention.
“Oh, Ty,” she said, “TCM is running Hitchcock movies all weekend!”
Oh God, turn it down a notch I thought, wrapping the goose-down pillow around my still throbbing head!
“This is one of my favorites,” she continued, all bubbly and normal, “Marnie.”
She glanced over sensing my less than enthusiastic mood.
“You look like shit,” she commented. “We can fix that.”
She bounced off of the bed and padded over to the intercom on the wall, hitting the button to alert someone on the staff. In a few moments, Thatcher’s voice came over the intercom.
“Yes, miss?”
“Thatch, this is Gina here.”
(Oh God, what fresh hell is this?)
“Tylar is a bit under the weather this afternoon. Could you please send up a tray with the following?”
I couldn’t listen any more when she started rattling off various food items. I wrapped my pillow tightly over my head drowning it out. She climbed back into bed after advising the staff what was required as if she owned the place. Gina had balls. I liked that.
“You’ll be fixed up shortly, girlfriend. No worries. I’m not going to let you ruin one of our perfectly good days off.”
I eyed her warily.
“Hey, I cleaned up pretty well at the track last night. I’m $250 richer today,” she bragged.
“Is that after you paid our bar tab?” I asked.
“There, she’s coming around folks, getting back to her normal smart-ass self.”
“How can you possibly be so chipper?” I asked, incredulously.
“Simple, Ty, I left a note on the kitchen counter before I went upstairs to my own puke fest last night requesting what I needed on my breakfast tray, and what time I needed it brought to my room."
She smiled, pleased with her own proactiveness I suppose. She leaned back against the pillows she had stuffed behind her back, turning the volume up just a bit on the television.
“I love this part where he takes her on a cruise for their honeymoon and she won’t sleep with him. Who wouldn’t want to sleep with Sean Connery? Frigid bitch. It’s all her mom’s fault the bible-thumping old prostitute.”
I was uncomfortable with the movie critique Gina was providing.
“Can we watch something else, please?” I asked.
“Sure,” Gina said, picking up the remote to resume surfing.
She finally landed on an ‘I Love Lucy’ marathon.
“So,” I rolled over onto my side, bending my arm in order to support my throbbing head. “How in the hell did we make it back here last night?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Obviously, not Gina if I’m asking you.”
She gave out a loud hoot of laughter. Not good for the head.
“Thatch picked us up.”
“You called him to come get us? Gina, you are running the staff ragged here. We can’t take advantage of Trey’s generosity and hospitality like that!”
I was genuinely pissed. I didn’t want Trey or his staff thinking that I was some kind of a gold-digging bitch.
“Hold up there, girlfriend,” she replied. “I did not call Thatcher to pick us up. Trey did.”
“Trey? How did Trey know where we were?”
“I’m thinking that picture of you and the twins might have tipped him off. You know the one I accidently saved and sent, instead of just saved?”
Oh God, yes. It was all coming back to me now.
“After you hung up on him he evidently called Thatcher and instructed him to come and collect us at the track. He wanted to make sure that we got home okay. He probably could tell that you were drunk on the phone.”
“Thank you very much, Gina!”
I was so in trouble, I knew it. I looked over at her, trying to muster a glare. She was leaning back, sipping her coffee as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She wasn’t the one in trouble, I was!
“Hey, Tylar,” she said, “Watch this.”
She took a long drag off of her unlit cigarette; she pressed her lips into a tight circle, puckering in and out several times with her head tilted upward. She looked over at my questioning stare.
“Smoke rings for Chrissake,” she said, exasperated that I had missed something so obvious.
Just then, there was a light tap at the door.
“Come in,” Gina yelled.
Thatcher proceeded in with a tray that he set carefully down on the nightstand on my side of the bed.
“Hope this will help you feel better Ms. Preston. Please let me know if there is anything else I can get for you.” (He was calling me ‘Ms. Preston’ again. Hmm. I am in deep, deep shit.)
He looked over at Gina.
“May I get you anything, Mrs. Hatton?” he inquired. Gina gave him her signature smile.
“I’m good for now, Thatch. Thanks again for all of your help last night and today.”
“Very well, then. I’ll come back later to pick up the tray.”
With that he left.
Gina got up and circled around the be
d to my side. She reached down and picked up a glass of tomato juice that had a stalk of celery sticking out of it. I wasn’t fond of tomato juice. I much preferred orange or apple juice.
“Here,” she instructed, handing me the glass, “Drink this down, fast.”
“What’s in it besides tomato juice?” I asked.
"Don’t ask,” she replied. “Just do it.”
I did as instructed, chugging it as quickly as I could. It didn’t seem that bad at first, but then the after burner kicked in. I felt the heat in the pit of my stomach, rising up through my chest, then to my throat. I let out the most god-awful belch that seemed to drag on for a full ten seconds. Then it was over. My stomach felt fine, the burning subsided.
“Now,” she continued, handing me a tall glass of ice water, take these and drink the full glass.”
She handed me a couple of Ibuprofen tablets that had been placed on the tray. I did as instructed.
“Those will get rid of the headache and the water will hydrate you.”
She removed the stainless steel domed cover revealing dry toast and assorted cut up melon chunks.
“Eat as much as you can,” she advised.
I obliged my taking a slice of toast, biting off a corner and chewing it. Not bad. I forked some melon slices into my mouse, suddenly getting my appetite back. I guess 'Nurse Gina' knew what she was doing after all.
“I will have to give Thatcher special thanks for picking us up last night and getting us back here safely,” I commented, chewing another chunk of honeydew melon. Gina nodded her head in agreement.
“Yeah,” she said, “He’s a pretty mellow dude. He didn’t even bat any eye when you tossed all over the backseat of his car.”
Oh God was there no end to my agony of the night before.
“I did?”
“Uh huh. It was actually kind of humorous. You thought the window was down, so you went to stick your head out of it to puke. You banged your head against the closed car window, fell back onto the seat where you
puked and then laid your head in it and fell asleep.”
“How did I get up here?” I asked.
“Well, I guess Trey called Ray as well to have him locate us at the racetrack so that Thatch could bring us home. So Ray ended up having to leave when he saw how wasted we were and he followed Thatch here, helping to get us in the house.”
“I remember being with you in your bathroom when you were being sick, though. Did I dream that?”
“No, silly. You were just kind of hanging out with me in my bathroom once Ray delivered me there. Then you told Ray you felt like you were going to be sick, and insisted you wanted to puke in Trey’s toilet, so he carried you down here I guess.”
(Oh God, I do not want to hear anymore).
“Do you realize how angry Trey is with me right now?” I asked.
“Why should he be angry with you, Tylar?”
Gina sounded pissed. “You don’t remember what you told me last night, do you?”
“I don’t remember a lot of things about last night,” I admitted.
“Let me fill you in. You told me that you had lied, that it had not been your mom on the phone when I walked in your room yesterday. You told me that it had been Trey, and that he told you he was working on the case all weekend. You told me that you heard the voice of a blond slut in the background telling him that it was time they left for their dinner reservation. I’m not sure how you knew that she was blond. You know, all blonds are not sluts, Tylar.”
I didn’t say anything. I hadn’t realized that I’d confided all of that to her. I wondered what else I might have confided.
“Hey,” she said softly, “That was supposed to be a joke. I’m blond. You calling all whores blond, get it?”
“I’m sorry, Gina. I’m just thinking about that phone call. There are other things that make me think
perhaps Trey doesn't really know how to love someone."
“Listen, Tylar,” she said, taking hold of my hands.
“I know that we just met a week ago, not even, but I like you. I've got to tell you something that only a friend would tell another friend.”
Oh God, what was it? Did she know something about Trey that she hadn’t told me up to this point?
“I don’t see Trey as committing to anything or anyone. I know that I don’t know him well in recent years, but I can tell you from what I remember, he is a loner. For him to be engaged that one time was a real shocker to me and everyone else. When that ended so badly, I can’t think he would ever risk it again. I’m just saying that it might be best to cut your losses with your heart intact, you know?”
I nodded afraid to speak with the lump in my throat. Gina hadn’t really told me anything I wasn’t already starting to believe myself. I was grasping at nothing to believe in something. I had to stop. She was right.
“I know you are right, Gina. I just have to figure out where I go from here. I can’t continue to work here with him being so close, you know?”
“I know,” she said. “We’ll figure something out.”
We watched a couple of episodes more of ‘I Love Lucy,’ which helped bring me out of my funk. I glanced over at the clock, surprised to see it was already a little past four o’clock in the afternoon.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said.
“I’m good with that, but where are we going to go, and how will we get there?”
“Not a problem,” I smiled, getting up from the bed and walking over to Trey’s dresser.
I reached on top and grabbed his set of keys to the Lamborghini.
“We’ve got wheels.”
“You do realize your hair is still wrapped up in a towel,” Gina pointed out.
“I will be dressed and ready in fifteen minutes, how about you?” I asked.
“I will be dressed and ready in fourteen minutes, Ms. Preston, see you downstairs!”
I ripped the towel off of my head. I went to Trey’s bathroom and sprayed it generously with detangler, eventually getting a comb through it all. I blew it dry, and then pulled it up into a high, skinny ponytail. I washed my face, applying a little concealer under my eyes, then some blush, and put some eyeliner and mascara on. I brushed my teeth, and applied tinted lip gloss afterwards.
Back in my room, I dressed in a pair of my new low slung red shorts and a white half-tee. I grabbed a pair of flip flops. I had no clue where my purse was, hoping that my cell phone was still in it when it was located. Heading downstairs, Gina was in the entry all ready and waiting.
“Your purse is on the hall table there,” she said, nodding her head in that direction.
“Well some good news for a change,” I remarked.
I dangled the Lamborghini key chain at her and smiled.
“Let’s roll!”
We were giggling the whole way across the side yard to the five car garage. I pressed a couple of different buttons on the remote hanging on the key chain and eventually one of the garage doors opened. It was a middle one and there was Trey’s shiny black sports car. Gina had grabbed some of my CD’s from my room so we’d had some good music for our adventure ride. I pressed another button and the doors unlocked.
“Wow,” Gina exclaimed, “Check it out; sweet black rims on this baby!”
She grabbed a couple of black baseball caps that were hanging on a hook in the garage.
They had the Lamborghini logo on the front. She tossed one over to me.
“Here, let’s put these on because that convertible top is coming down.”
We slid into the car; I was in the driver’s seat.
“Uh oh,” I said.
“What uh oh?”
“I can’t drive a manual transmission,” I wailed.
“It’s the standard H-box six speed,” she responded, as if there was nothing to it.
“You can drive this, then?” I asked.
“Hell yes, this thing is like zero to sixty in what, four seconds?”
“3.2,” I corrected her.
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We both got out and switched places. Gina had put her ball cap on. I put mine on, but needed to adjust it to fit my head. Once adjusted, I put it on, pulling my ponytail out through the back open space.
“Fasten your seat belts,” Gina instructed. “Prepare for takeoff.”
She fired the car up, pushing the button to put the convertible top down. Gina backed the car out carefully onto the concrete drive. She shifted into first gear, and gave it plenty of gas.
“And we’re off!” she hollered, the wind catching our breath.
It was awesome. The day was beautiful for a drive; sunny and clear. She pulled the car out onto the two lane highway, and sped off towards Bristol. We both put our sunglasses on as soon as we hit the highway.
It felt so invigorating to be out on the open highway, in a car that everyone gawked at, that rode like a dream. The controls were all on the steering wheel. Gina quickly found the one for the stereo system and hit the CD button. Instantly some classical orchestra music blasted from the surround sound speakers.
“What the fuck is this?” Gina asked.
She pressed another button from ‘mission control’ and the CD ejected. She grabbed it reading the printed title on it out loud.
"Debussy’s Greatest Hits conducted by English Chamber Orchestra? I don’t think so,” she laughed, pitching the CD out of the convertible.
“What are you doing?” I shrieked. “That’s Trey’s. Now I’m going to have to replace it!”
“Let his blond whore replace it,” she said. “That’s probably who he bought it for, right – or maybe she bought it for him, huh?”
“How should I know?” I hissed.
Gina had drilled her point across, perfectly.
“Well, it’s a given he didn’t buy it to romance you, now did he? I mean I could be wrong, but I can’t see you getting into all of the vampirey music stuff.”
“Vampirey is not a word!” I retorted. “You do see the irony in what you just said having gotten a Vampire’s Kiss pierced on your freakin’ neck, right?”
Gina laughed good- naturedly.
“My girl is back, yes and in fighting form! Now let’s see about putting a CD in there that we can relate to, okay?” I nodded and started shuffling through the stack of CD’s in my lap that Gina had brought from my room. In the meantime, Gina opened up the Lamborghini full throttle. I was so distracted with picking out a CD I didn’t see the black stretch limo that passed us going in the opposite direction.