Honey

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