by Tammy Lewis
before us, all while she stood, looking me up and down
disapprovingly.
Watching her face fall to the floor, when Quinn, announced
that we were married. Knocking back her drink in one foul
swoop, not able to hide her contempt, she yelled, “married, as
in, husband and wife.”
Knowing just how much this obviously bothered her, I placed
my head into Quinn’s chest, glancing up at him, lovingly.
Playing along, feeling Quinn’s arms surround me, fashioning
a heavy, devilish glare, Quinn replied, “yes Marcia.
Newlyweds to be precise.”
Laughing loudly into his chest, unable to hide my joy,
watching Marcia storm off across the room. I looked up at
Quinn, confused I asked, “what the hell is wrong with that
woman?”
Pushing Quinn’s arms away, I turned back to the bar to take
another shot, as he replied, “Marcia and I dated for some
time. She was hell bent on becoming Mrs Hamilton.”
Laughing loudly, throwing back my head, I replied, “damn, you let that one get away. You certainly missed your chances
there, buster. I’m sure that she would have eaten you alive!”
Taking another shot, hearing the sound of the huge doors at
the other end of the room open. Quinn announced, “let the
silent auction begin.”
Being ushered through, into a grand ballroom, filled with an
array of fancy decorated tables. I was sure, that I was not
partaking in any of the auctions, not wanting to draw any
more attention to myself than I already had. Stood scanning
the entire layout, I sarcastically asked “Quinn, sweetheart,
where are we sitting?”
Watching Quinn’s smile widen, leading me over to the front
table, directly in front of a raised platform. Reaching out, I
took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, turning to
face Quinn as he asked, “honey don’t you think that you’ve
had enough?”
Overcome with joy, that somehow, I was annoying him
further, with every beverage that passed my lips and that he
wanted me to stop drinking. I stood and headed over to the
bar, returning with a tray of cocktails. Seated, Quinn began to
introduce me to the array of guests, that were now seated at
our table. Disapprovingly looking over at my drinks tray, he
began to help himself. Almost trying to drink each and every
one of them, just so that I couldn’t.
Watching a heavy-set man take to the stage and announce
that the auction had begun, everyone stood. Noticing that
Quinn remained seated, I asked, “aren’t you going to go, join
the other sheep? Go and bid on something that you don’t
really want or need!”
Leaning forward, into me, his face filled with wonderment, Quinn whispered “I already have. I have already placed my
bid and believe me, I really, without a doubt want it.”
Almost gurning at his confident response, returning to my
cocktails, slightly confused. I began to wonder, within this
room, what could it be, that he wanted so badly.
Starting the auction, the large framed man returned to the
stage. Noticing Quinn struggling to focus, turning into him,
brushing the tip of my shoe, seductively up inside his leg, I
whispered, “Mr H, is someone a little tipsy?”
Watching him laugh at my claim, trying his best to show that
he was in fact sober, he knocked back another drink.
When suddenly, I sat shocked to the core, hearing the man on
the stage, call out “and the highest bid, for the romantic
weekend in Rome. Goes to… Mrs Domini Hamilton.”
Searching the room, sure that I had never met another
person, who shared my birth name. Sobering me instantly,
watching Quinn stand before me, congratulating me on my
glorious win.
Clapping loudly next to me, I glared up at him, sure that he
had crossed the line. Taking my hand, he called out, “come on
honey, let’s go up and claim our win.”
Rolling my eyes at him, I stood, realising that he was finding
it quite hard to retain his balance. I marched towards the
stage, with him in tow, holding on to his hand firmly. Taking
the prized envelope from the gentleman’s hands, I gestured
for Quinn to speak, on our behalf, sure that he wasn’t able to.
Anxiously awaiting his speech, gesturing for him to begin, he
smiled at me, bobbed his head and in a drunken slur he said
“thank you… From Mrs Hamilton and myself… I would like to
thank you all… for your generous… denominations, this evening.”
Hearing the crowd rise to applaud, I turned to leave, feeling
him pull me into him, to kiss me within full view of everyone,
at the side of the stage. Sure, that I had nothing left inside to
fight anymore, I let him. Taking my hand, leading me down
the stairs, at the edge of the stage, to return to our table, he
whispered into my ear, “do you want to get out of here?”
Nodding my head frantically, sure that this was the greatest
question that I had heard all night. Sneaking out through a
rear fire exit, feeling the cold air hit us at a great force, it was
then I realised just how drunk we actually were.
An hour or so later, after the most hilarious limousine ride
that I had ever taken, laughing loudly all of the way. I then
found myself falling drunkenly through Quinn’s front door.
Losing my balance, I pulled him over with me. Looking up at
him, uncomfortable at his gaze. Scrunching up my whole face,
nodding my head slowly, I gasped, “nice place, that you’ve got
here.”
Noticing a huge fish tank, built within a column in the centre
of the living room. Standing, only to stumble over, glaring at
the exotic fish, circling the huge exquisite tank. Watching
Quinn place himself, slumped down on to the cold, marble,
living room floor, resting himself against a large, oversized,
red, modern, leather couch. Almost falling down next to him,
still overwhelmed and mesmerized by the spotlights,
reflecting from the fish tank. I felt Quinn’s eyes, trying to
focus upon me even more.
Scrunching my whole face up, in contempt, unsure why he
was looking at me with such starry eyes. Unable to register his
gaze, watching him gather his thoughts, sobering him, he
whispered, “by god Domini, you surely are breath-taking.”
Hearing his heartfelt words, without being able to take them in seriously, instantly I burst into laughter. Almost mimicking
him, in some sort of preschool voice, “why Domini, you surely
are breath-taking.”
Noticing the horror consume his face, realising that I hadn’t
taken him seriously. Using his body and the couch to pull
myself up, I called out, “do you have a kitchen?”
Pointing to the rear, Quinn lifted his arm, blinking profusely,
trying to stay focused. While I made my way into the kitchen,
returning with a huge jar of peanut butter. Sitting myself
down next to him, using my fingers as a scoop, watching
Quinn begin to fall asleep. I began to laugh once more, uns
ure
why the sight of him like this was just so hilarious.
Taking a scoop from the jar, I asked in a deadly serious tone,
“dude, you hungry, do you want some?”
Opening his one eye, watching his smile widen at my fingers
covered in peanut butter, held up in front of him. He leaned
forward, opening his mouth wide. Retrieving my hand
quickly, I yelled “eww, no.”
Watching his face become consumed with confusion, I shook
my head, smearing the peanut butter across his drunken lips.
For him to begin the impossible task, of trying to eat the
spread, from off of his own face.
Hearing my phone ringing from inside of my purse, tipping
the contents out on to the floor. I answered the call, to hear
Marcus firmly ask, “Domini, where the hell are you? I
expected you to be home hours ago.”
Instantly overcome with excitement at the sound of his voice,
I replied, “I’m at Quinn’s, he has fish.”
Hearing that Marcus sounded a little upset, as he asked
“Jesus, Dom’, how much have you had to drink? Stay where
you are, I am coming over to get you.”
Swaying my body to the music, that somehow, I could hear
inside of my head, Quinn opened his eyes, to ask, “do you
want to go to bed?”
Finding him hilarious once more, I laughed loudly, making an
odd tutting noise, I replied, “NO!”
A short time later, hearing a loud buzzing sound fill the
apartment. Trying my best to stand, I began searching the
entire apartment, to find out where the shrill noise was
coming from.
Turning to face Quinn, with my eyes opened widely, I asked
“do you have bees?”
Watching him shake his head, just managing to lift his hand
and point to the intercom, fixed next to the front door.
Standing, I stumbled towards it, pressing the button to giggle
into the intercom, “hellooo Mr bee…”
Hearing Marcus’s displeased voice, echoing throughout the
apartment, “Domini, let me in.”
Making my way over to the floor next to Quinn, the
apartment door flew open instantly. Turning to see Marcus
fill the doorway, excited, I flung my arms into the air. Turning
to face Quinn to say, “hey look who’s here. It’s my guy
Marcus.”
Smiling with my whole face, I watched Marcus stomp towards
me, looking somewhat annoyed at the entire situation. Lifting
me up, he threw me over his shoulder, turning to leave, I
called out, “hey, where are you taking me?”
Hearing no reply, I began focusing on my view of Marcus’s ass, I laughed and proudly stated, “jeez, Marcus you should
come and see this. Don’t my ass look great in these jeans?”
Feeling Marcus’s whole-body jolt, trying to hold back his
laughter, realising that I was so immensely drunk, that I had
mistook his own rear end; for my own.
Lifting my head, to catch a glimpse of Quinn, still drunkenly
subdued on the living room floor. Calling over to him, in a
teasing preschool tone, “goodnight Mr bigshot!”
Watching him lift his head, unsure if he’d realised that we
were leaving, when the last thing that I saw was the closed
door behind us. It was then slumped over Marcus shoulder,
overcome with a heavy head and drunken tiredness, that I fell
asleep.
Chapter 10
I woke the following morning with a searing pain, splitting
my head in two, sure that the room was alive, spinning
counter clockwise. Focusing my eyes on to Marcus, over in
the corner of my room, slumped in my comfy bedroom chair;
with a coffee. Leering down at the empty bucket next to my
bed, I asked, “what on earth did I drink last night and how the
hell did I get here?”
Hearing Marcus sit up, shuffling in the chair, he spoke only to
say, “you may want to focus on what you didn’t drink! It may
be easier to determine, you were in a bad way when I found
you.”
Cringing at each and every word, realising that Quinn would have witnessed me in this sorry state. I had to ask, even
though I didn’t want to hear the answers, “Marcus, did I make
an idiot of myself last night, in front of Quinn?”
Laughing loudly Marcus replied, “don’t worry Dom’, he was
by far in a worse state than you were.”
Suddenly realising that somehow, I may have had the upper
hand, even if I didn’t have my own memory, at least I had
Marcus’s. Trying to piece everything back together,
remembering everything up until we had left the venue. Oh
my! I began to fret, I remembered agreeing to go back to his
place. Placing both of my hands on to my head, I began to
hyperventilate. When Marcus, seeing the panic and distress
that had suddenly overcome me, approached the bed quickly,
sitting himself down beside me, holding me steady in his
arms.
“Dom what on earth is wrong? Calm down,” he called out.
Trying his best to pull me out of whatever crisis this was, that
I was having.
Almost feeling my head spin, I cried, “I slept with him, didn’t
I? I have only gone and given him the wrong idea, the wrong
impression, all of the wrong messages.”
Reaching for my hands, holding mine in his, looking me dead
set into my eyes, Marcus explained, “Dom’, I don’t think that
anything happened. You were both fully clothed and he was
passed out on the living room floor when I arrived.”
Hearing the deep serious tone of Marcus’s voice, instantly
made me calm. Exhaling deeply, in pure relief, again I felt a
little settled, until Marcus said “the only odd thing that I can
recall from last night was, it looked as though you had been
force feeding him peanut butter.”
‘Huh,’ I thought, watching Marcus stand with a grin,
proceeding to the doorway, turning only to say, “Dom’ I think
you may need a shower. I cleaned you up as best as I could
last night. But I think that you may still have a little peanut
butter in your hair.”
Reaching up into my hairline, cringing from head to toe, I
prayed that somehow, he was just fooling around.
“Please tell me that you are joking,” I pleaded, almost certain
that he had to be teasing me.
Popping his head back around the door, only to reply, “I wish
Dom! You know how much I hate the stuff.”
His expression, the disgust that consumed his entire face,
proved that his words were the truth. It only made me wonder
more, what on earth did I do last night?
Standing, hours later at our kitchen counter, head to toe in
white towelling. I heard Marcus enter, when instantly the
room filled with the smell of musky orange and lemon grass.
The sweet scent of his aftershave almost bowled me over,
turning to see him, stood in his finest. Confused at why he
was all dressed up like this, I could see him notice my
bewildered glare.
Fastening his last shirt button, he spoke, “you’ve forgot,
haven’t you? My date tonight,
with Francis, our new freelance
photographer.”
Remembering instantly, I nodded, feeling a little sad that
tonight I would be left alone, to my own devices.
“I can cancel, call her and arrange it for another time, if you’d
like,” he suggested.
Walking towards him, braving a smile, I threw my arms
around him. Firstly, thanking him for yet again, coming to my
rescue last night. Tugging at his collar, trying to hold my
smile, looking up into his eyes, forcing myself, I almost whispered, “it’s okay, you go and get her tiger!”
Hearing the front door close, I made my way into the living
room, settling myself down on to the couch. Sure, that this is
where I was to stay all evening, no one or nothing would be
able to move me. Catching up with my favourite crime
fighting series, feeling the blood rush through my veins.
Exhilarated at the thought of the good guys catching the bad
ones. Taking my mind off of being here, spending the evening
alone and whatever this thing was, that I had with Quinn.
Hours later, transported into the crime fighting world, binge
watching episode after episode. I was startled by the sound of
the front door opening, wanting to curl up and die. Sure, that
Marcus was home, and that he had brought along his date.
Eyes wide opened, I watched him stomp into the living room
before me, looking somewhat disgusted.
Curious, I asked, “so how did it go?”
Unsure if he knew how to tell me, almost pacing, I reached up
to take his hand.
“Marcus come here, sit with me,” I pleaded.
Lifting my blanket to let him join me, in order to try and
comfort him in some way.
Seated next to me, pulling his head into mine, we sat there in
silence. Feeling his whole-body calm before me, he spoke only
to say, “worst date ever!”
Holding him closer, pouting for him, I asked, “oh honey, what
did she do?”
Watching the fire, ignite within his eyes, he replied, “ordered
the damn salad, and sat there all night and proceeded to eat
my fries!”
Seething on his behalf, I yelled “bitch!”
Shaking my head, understanding his plight, sure that if they
had been mine, I would have easily stabbed her in the hand
with my fork.
Leaving momentarily, only to return with his favourite, rocky