by A. E. Neal
I felt Kennedy lift my hair off my neck. "Oh shit, Ally. I didn't know you were so hung over. I would've left you alone. I'm so sorry."
I finished heaving the remaining contents of my stomach and hauled myself to the sink. I brushed my teeth, twice, and found a bottle of aspirin. I washed my face and turned to Kennedy.
"Who the hell let me drink that much?" I asked, still attempting to keep my eyesight steady.
"You were fine when we left Shaker's I swear," she answered with genuine concern in her tone.
I wiped my forehead with a clean towel. "The question isn't what I drank, it's more like what the hell happened?" I asked, not recalling much of anything from the night besides bowling. "Beside us bowling," I said answering my own question out loud.
She looked shocked and almost hurt. "You don't remember anything after bowling?"
"No. My head hurts and I can't think right now." I answered, rubbing my temples.
"Ally!" she scolded. "I-I...damn it! We don't have time for this. We've gotta leave in a half hour— shit! I'll tell you what happened last night, later." She continued and took off toward her room.
I sat on the edge of my bed and tried to think of anything after the bowling alley, but came up empty. I grabbed a pair of black lace panties off the top of my clean laundry pile, folded neatly in a wicker basket beside my bed and decided I was in desperate need of a hot shower.
I let the hot water run over me as I rubbed my eyes. How can I not remember anything after bowling? I recalled calling Craig for a ride. Vaguely remembered getting into the cab and everything else is a blur. I slammed my fists onto the shower wall and groaned in frustration.
The hot shower worked it's miracle, feeling much better, I was able to get dressed. I wandered down the hallway to Kennedy's room.
"Hey," I said peeking in the doorway.
"Hey. Feeling better?" She asked, looking up from her phone.
I rubbed my temples again, "A little bit."
"Zac just texted me. They're at a place called Epic on Third and Main. You still down?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah. Totally," I replied. "I just need to finish getting ready. How much time do I have?"
"Ten. Fifteen at the most."
"Okay, I'll be out in ten." I said, waving over my shoulder as I padded across the wooden floor back into my room.
I dried my hair, pulled it into a loose ponytail, applied some eye shadow, mascara and lip gloss. I tossed on a pair of khaki shorts and a light green v-neck tank top. I rummaged through my closet, found a pair of gladiator sandals and grabbed a white cotton cardigan from it's hanger.
"I'm ready!" I shouted down the hallway, fixing the clasps on my sandals.
"Kay! One sec!" She shouted back.
I decided to wait in the kitchen while Kennedy finished getting ready. I took a cold bottle of water out of the fridge and twisted the cap off. The cool liquid quickly quenched my thirst. I popped a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster and waited. I desperately needed to eat something since I was still feeling the aftermath of my binge drinking episode from the night before. The toast popped up, nicely charred. I'd heard an old wives' tale once about dry, burnt toast being the cure-all for any hangover. So far it was doing the trick and as I swallowed my last bite, my stomach stopped churning.
Kennedy rounded the corner with a disgusted look on her face, "I will never understand how you can actually eat that shit."
"It's the miracle cure. Tastes terrible, but it works," I said smiling.
"You could just be normal and drink a Bloody Mary or something."
"Ew— Gross," I said, gagging at the thought. I never liked tomato juice and I couldn't figure out for the life of me, why anyone would drink it mixed with vodka and seven different garnishes just to get rid of a hangover.
Kennedy laughed, "Pansy."
"Yeah, yeah. I know." I agreed, watching her criss-cross the ribbons on her pink espadrilles before tying them.
She raised her eyebrow and put her finger to her mouth, "You look cute."
I knew what she meant and I frowned. "But?" I asked.
She took my hand in hers and lead me to her room, "Nothing's wrong with your clothes, you look hot— but you should totally wear your hair down." She said pulling me in front of her vanity mirror. "Sit."
I did as she said and sat down on the bench in front of the mirror. Kennedy pulled the ponytail loose and proceeded to blow dry my long wavy hair. She flicked on the power to her flat iron and finished drying my tresses.
"We don't have time for this," I pouted as she worked the hot iron from root to end, leaving my hair silky and straight in it's wake.
"Shush. Almost done." She said with pursed lips.
"So, what happened last night? And why do I feel like you're gonna tell me I did something really embarrassing?"
"You did, but I'll get to that in a minute. First, let me tell you about that asshole Bryan brought along."
"Seth?" I asked.
She made a 'pfft' sound and shook her head, "Yeah him. Anyway, we get to Shaker's and it turns out his ex is there. He makes up some bullshit story about getting into a fight with her and they leave together. Like I said, asshole."
The faintest flicker of that scene flashed in my mind. "I kinda remember that," I said.
"Oh, good. Do you also remember plowing into the sex god on your way back from the bathroom?"
"The sex god?" I tilted my head in confusion. I remembered hitting a wall except it wasn't a— "Oh shit! I ran into a guy in the hallway outside the bathroom." And just like that, my memory of last night came rushing back to me all at once. "He was gorgeous, like a Calvin Klein underwear model. I remember now. And his eyes...oh...they were this amazing green color." I said, my eyes glazing over at the thought and my cheeks flushed pink.
"Yeah, and when you got back to our table you were blushing like a teenage girl," she laughed, poking my cheek with her finger. "Kinda like you are now."
And I remembered what he said to me, "Sorry, I thought you were someone else," I said.
"Huh?" She asked, confused.
"That's what he said to me before he took off down the hallway. I thought it was kind of odd the way he stared at me for a long time, but I assumed I was just really drunk. I don't think I've ever met him before...Nope...I would have most definitely remembered." I giggled, remembering his muscled arms and rock-hard chest.
"We've probably seen him out somewhere— at one of the bars or something." She said, shrugging her shoulders.
"Yeah. That must be it." I agreed. But something deep inside me was telling me that wasn't it. I couldn't put a finger on it exactly, but I felt like I knew him from somewhere.
I shrugged off the feeling and figured it was just my imagination.
Five minutes later, Kennedy had worked her magic on my hair, giving me a once over before nodding in approval, "God, I'm fucking talented."
"Yes, you are. I don't know what I'd do with out you, friend." I smiled and wrapped my arms around her in a tight embrace.
"I love you too, Ally. Now, let's go see your hot brother."
"Ew—Ken, he's still my brother. Please don't call him hot," I scolded, rolling my eyes.
My brother, Zac was a year and three months older than me and everyone mistook us for twins growing up. He's a few inches taller than me, but we both have naturally blonde hair and blue eyes, although Zac's eye's are almost gray, like a thunderstorm brewing in the sky. I'd say he's handsome, but he's my brother, I never thought of him as ever being good-looking or as Kennedy called him, 'a hot piece of man-candy'. This is same big brother who constantly picked on me, tortured me, locked me out of the house for hours during a torrential downpour (which in turn, gave me pneumonia) and offered me my first beer in high school.
Our mother got pregnant with him when she was only seventeen and our grandparents forced our "father" to marry her before her baby bump even showed. As kids, we spent more time at our grandparent's house than we did at home.
It wasn't until my fourth birthday, when our father walked out of our lives and never looked back. She filed for a divorce a short time later and our grandfather was so upset with her lack of an attempt to fix her marriage, he disowned her and us. She got a job as a waitress and worked double shifts to help put money towards our college fund.
During my senior year in high school, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Doctors had high hopes for her recovery when they caught the tumor while it was still small, but later discovered she wasn't responding to chemo treatments and the cancer spread, quickly. I sat with her in the hospital everyday, reading aloud her favorite book, Lewis Carroll's 'Through the Looking Glass' until she'd fall asleep. Occasionally, Kennedy would sit with us and we'd take turns reading. Zac had only visited her a few times and always ended up leaving, claiming he couldn't take the smell of the hospital. Said it smell like death. I couldn't disagree with him, I just wanted to be strong for both of us, so I had no choice but to stay with her.
She died in the middle of the night. Her doctor said she'd gone peacefully, but I'm sure that's the protocol phrase you get when you lose your only parent. After she was gone, I went numb. I didn't cry, I didn't talk about her, I didn't want to remember her frail body and yellowing skin. I wanted to remember my mother the way I had seen her while I was growing up. Beautiful, full of life, smart and funny. And that's exactly what I did.
Zac was nineteen when she died, he promised to stay in our childhood home so I could finish high school. He got a full time job at a music store to help pay the bills, thankfully for us, my mother had taken out a life insurance policy long before she was diagnosed. So, we didn't have to worry too much since the mortgage was paid-off and the insurance money allowed us to live comfortably while I finished school. As soon as I left for college, Zac put our childhood home up for sale. The house sold within two weeks and after closing costs and a few other expenses, he deposited a check in my account for $218,000. With the money from my mother's house, I bought the townhouse and had a little more than $95,000 still in savings.
Once I graduated high school, Zac disappeared to seek out his dream of joining a punk band. He moved in with a few friends in San Diego, took up guitar lessons and failed miserably. He finally found his niche playing the bass.
He and his best friend, Alex started their band the summer I left for college and have been picking up gigs here and there ever since. They've been playing mostly 80's rock covers and have some original music, but bars and clubs weren't willing to pay a band they'd never heard of to play their own music. But a band that could belt out 'Sweet Child O Mine' as well as, if not better than Axel Rose, was golden. It had been almost a year since I'd seen Zac or his band, I was eager to catch up with my big brother.
Chapter 3
Ally
It was just past six, when Kennedy and I walked into Epic. Kennedy had done some research on the way over and discovered it had only been open a few months. By the look and smell of the place as we walked through the door, you would have never guessed it was still new. The sizable brick walls were lined with framed Irish soccer team's jerseys, a few hockey jerseys from our local hockey team and vintage Guinness ads. Music blared from the speakers placed sporadically around the building. Flat screen televisions hung from every corner, there were even a few over the bar in the center of the pub. Behind the bar, I spotted a large stage that reminded me of one you'd see at a burlesque show; two large black velvet curtains hung against the back wall and were up-lit by four neon-blue lights. The ceilings were strewn with steel ducting, lights and fans. The scent of stale beer stung my nostrils and I felt my stomach churn again.
I spotted the band hauling equipment to the side of the stage. Chris, their drummer, and Alex, were busy unloading the drum kit and amplifiers, but I couldn't see Zac anywhere.
"Come on Kennedy, let's go find Zac," I said, walking toward the stage. Kennedy followed close.
"This place is huge. They've got pool tables in the next room," she said, pointing over her shoulder towards an archway next to the bar.
I was suddenly knocked off balance by a hard hit to my hip, "Hey sis!" Zac stood beside me with an innocent look on his face.
"You just hip checked me, jerk!" I yelled, pushing him back with all of my strength. He only moved about an inch.
"Missed you too little sister," He chuckled, grabbing me by both arms, pulling me in for a bear hug.
I grunted when he squeezed me, "Zaaac! I-I-can't breathe."
He held me for another second, then released me. He took a step back and looked me over, "You look good, sis. How've you been?"
I smiled, "Thanks. I'm good. You know, same ole shit different day." I said sarcastically, tossing my hands in the air.
"Yeah, I know what you mean." A goofy grin crept across his face when he saw Kennedy, "Hey Skittles." I laughed at his nickname for Kennedy. In high school, she use to hoard the colorful candy by the bag full and keep them hidden in her locker. At one point in time, I think she had over a hundred of them, one morning she opened her locker and the bags came pouring out at her feet. Zac just stood there and laughed as she struggled to pick them all up.
She reached up, put her arms around him and smiled. "Hey yourself, you know I hate that name."
"Nah— I know you secretly like it." He said winking. "You guys gonna stick around and watch us play? We're up at seven." He asked, wrapping an arm around Kennedy's waist.
"Where can we sit?" I asked, ignoring my brother's wandering hand.
He pointed and walked us back to a table next to the stage with a reserved plaque propped in the middle, "This one's reserved for VIPs', but I'll see what I can do, since you are family." He said, winking. "I've gotta go unload the van. I'll see you guys in a bit."
He waved over his shoulder and disappeared through the swinging doors next to the stage.
"Bye," we both said in unison, waving back.
"Do you want a drink?" Kennedy asked.
I cringed at the thought of more alcohol, "Uh-No, thanks. I'm still not feeling all that great."
Kennedy smiled and got up from her chair, "Fine, suit yourself. I'll be at the bar getting a beer if you change your mind." She sauntered off, swaying her hips as she walked toward the bar.
I watched as Kennedy procured two beers and a shot without even batting an eyelash. The bartender was putty in her hands. I laughed to myself. Crazy girl. I fished my phone out of my purse, checked my messages and of course there weren't any. The only texts or voicemails were usually from Kennedy. My own brother didn't even text me anymore. I huffed and shoved the phone into the side pocket.
The pub was beginning to fill up. Most of the tables around us were occupied and the stools around the bar were crammed with people. Noise grew as friends found one another, chatting and high-fiving each other. I lost track of Kennedy's whereabouts, but I assumed she had found another unsuspecting male to fall victim to her charms. Sometimes I wished I could walk in her shoes for just one day. Somehow on a daily basis, she manages to strike up conversations with total strangers, everyone was always taken back by Kennedy's 'I don't give a fuck' demeanor. I would say I'm jealous, but I kind of liked being a wallflower. I don't have to deal with guy-drama or worry that I may have said the wrong thing to some total stranger. Kennedy has told me a few times, that I don't have a filter on my thoughts. You could say, I speak my mind most of the time. I usually find myself biting off more than I can chew once I get going. I've been involved in full fledged arguments over the pettiest things, like paying $7 for a cup of coffee. It's just plain silly.
I was raised to save my money, every birthday check or any Christmas money I got, all went into my piggy bank. By the time I turned thirteen I had over two hundred dollars. My mother opened a savings account for me and I've put $50 a week in that account since I was thirteen. With the money left from the sale of the house and my savings, I haven't had to worry too much about finances. I've only had three jobs my entire life. In high school, I worked after
school at an ice cream shop. Then in college, I was lucky enough to get hired on as a paid intern with the local newspaper my freshman year. Last year, I landed my dream job as a freelance writer for 'GO! Arizona Magazine'. I write a column called, "The Two Day Getaway". It's a budget friendly guide to finding hidden gems within the Arizona state lines.
"Sorry that took me so long," Kennedy said resting her beer on the table. "I seriously ran into like four people from high school. It was awful."
"Like who?" I asked, not that I was the least bit interested in anything anyone was doing from our high school.
"Oh— You remember Megan, right? The chubby girl with red hair from our Algebra class?"
I tapped my finger on the table and nodded, "Yeah...I guess so." I had no idea who she was referring to.
"Well, she's not fat anymore. She said she lost 100 pounds after she had her daughter. And get this, her daughter turns six this year. Crazy right?"
"God, that makes me feel old." I said leaning my forehead into my palm.
"Oh— Shut up. You are not old. Just because we didn't settle down and pop out a couple of kids the moment we graduated, doesn't mean we're doomed or anything. We've had fun, haven't we?" She said lightly punching my arm and I shrugged.
Maybe that is the "perfect" life I always dreamed for myself. The fairytale wedding, the extravagant honeymoon in Bora Bora, two kids- a boy and a girl, a white house with red shutters and a wrap around deck overlooking the beach. I had it all in the palm of my hand at one time. I could almost smell the sea breeze and feel the sand between my toes, but sometimes the universe is unforgiving and just like that, it can all be taken away. I felt tears threaten to ruin my night of fun and forgetting. I would not let my past ruin my night. I refused.
I took a deep breath and forced a smile. "I think I will get a drink after all." I said sounding more harsh than necessary.
Kennedy looked at me and I could see pity in her eyes, "You alright, Al?"