by J. D. Chase
When no more tears could fall, I crawled over to the fridge, not trusting my legs to hold me. I grabbed a bottle of wine and drank, straight from the bottle. My head ached from crying and from the speed at which I poured the chilled liquid into my mouth. When that bottle was empty, I opened a cupboard and grabbed the nearest bottle of alcohol. It happened to be bourbon and I drank that straight from the bottle too. The coolness in my mouth and throat from the cold wine was replaced by a burning that made my eyes sting. Yeah, that’s more like it.
I crawled over to the check, picked it up and struggled to my feet. I took the check and the bottle of bourbon into the living room. I retrieved my iPod from its cradle and selected the one play list that was guaranteed to suit my mood. I placed it back in the speaker and turned up the volume. Then I sank to my knees and cried into my bourbon.
The next thing I knew, I was being rudely shaken and I became aware of several voices but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. With some effort, I prized my eyes open and Angel’s face swam before me. I tried to speak but I couldn’t and then my eyes closed again.
I suddenly felt an urgent need to pee. I attempted to get up, but my head protested loudly, although I hadn‘t even managed to lift it. Instead, I attempted to open my eyes. It was fairly dark and my head was fuzzy and my vision was blurred. I could hear someone whispering … no, make that several people whispering. I struggled to hear what they were saying but the pounding in my head made it impossible. I was debating whether to attempt to lift my head again or whether to avoid that agony and just release my bladder where I lay, when I realized someone was stroking my hair. Angel!
I licked my lips and managed to swallow. My throat felt like crap. I realized that the whispering had stopped. Where was I? Why was there a drum banging inside my head? And then it hit me. Half a million dollars hit me.
“Angel …” I managed to croak.
“Oh Issy, tell me what happened. What did that bastard do to you?” she cried fiercely.
My head almost exploded and I scrunched up my face and put my hands over my ears. I immediately heard muffled conversation that could have been an argument. I waved one of my hands to get her attention.
“Oh baby, what can I do to help?” she said, softly this time.
“Toilet,” I whispered.
I was gently lifted and carried to the bathroom. I was placed on my feet but immediately veered dangerously until strong hands caught me and held me. I pulled down my sweatpants and panties and tried to squat. Those strong hands guided me on to the toilet and I peed instantly, sighing with relief but then almost instantly feeling that I was losing consciousness. I was vaguely aware of being pulled upright and my clothes being pulled back up. Then … nothing.
The next time I opened my eyes, daylight was streaming in through my bedroom window. Ouch! I closed them hastily but when I squinted, I found the pain in my head wasn’t too bad. I felt someone stir next to me and turned my head to find Angel watching me. Her pretty face was pale and her beautiful pale blue eyes were ringed with redness.
“Hey,” she said softly. “This might be a stupid question, but how are you feeling?”
I swallowed. “I have felt better.”
“Here, you should take these.” She passed me two painkillers and a glass of water from my bedside table.
I slowly sat up and complied gratefully. I knew that I had a hangover - I knew the symptoms too well. I couldn’t remember actually getting drunk though.
“Do you think you could manage some breakfast?” she asked. “I don’t think that you have eaten anything for 24 hours, have you?”
A sudden memory of a white bistro table and a loaded cake stand swam into my mind. I tried desperately to hold on to the memory in the hope that it would trigger more. I hated the unsettling feeling of drink induced amnesia but the memory flittered away to the far recesses of my alcohol laden brain.
“No thanks, but I could murder a coffee.”
Angel kissed my head before heading off to make coffee. I forced myself up and into my bathroom. Another cryptic flashback popped into my head. Someone helped me go to the toilet. Oh, thank you Angel!
I staggered into the kitchen looking, no doubt, as bad as I felt. Angel passed me a cup of strong coffee and we sat at the breakfast bar. Angel seemed on edge and I got the feeling that she either wanted to tell me something, or ask me something but that she was refraining for some reason.
“Thank you for helping me to go to the toilet, last night,” I said quietly. “The memory just came to me when I walked into the bathroom. You are, without doubt, the best friend anyone could have.”
I was about to promise not to get myself in that state again so that she wouldn’t have to do that ever again when I noticed her wringing her hands together as she chewed furiously on her bottom lip.
“What is it, Angel?”
“Um .. well .. it wasn’t actually me that helped you in the bathroom,” she muttered.
Oh crap - don’t tell me that I brought a guy home last night and he helped me!
I covered my face with my hands and groaned.
“Oh, I take it that you remember Scott helping you now?” she asked, sounding sympathetic.
“What? Scott helped me?” I cried, mortified.
“Yes.”
My head cleared momentarily. “Oh god. How could you let him, Angel? He held me as I peed and I am pretty sure that he pulled my pants back up!” Shame flooded through me at the realization. “I am never going to be able to look him in the eye again!”
“Issy, I couldn’t carry you, or even hold you up, the state you were in! Scott was brilliant about it and he is such a gentleman that he would‘ve been more embarrassed than you. He certainly wouldn‘t take advantage of you in that state - even just by looking at you.” She sounded hurt and I immediately felt guilty. It’s not her fault! “Would you rather it was Chad or Ethan that helped you … or Travis?” she continued.
“No, of course not! I’m sorry Angel - I have no one to blame for getting in that state but myself. And you’re totally right about Scott - he is always the perfect gentleman.”
She smiled, placated. “Travis did offer … several times. He offered to put you to bed too. He was very keen … a proper Good Samaritan, by all accounts.”
We both burst out laughing and the atmosphere lightened considerably, as I clutched my aching head.
Angel insisted that I eat some toast which I took into the living room while she went to shower. I wandered over to my iPod to put some music on, very quietly, for background noise. I didn’t like silence much - I had experienced too much of it as a child. When I clicked it on, I noticed the play list and it stopped me in my tracks.
Too much alcohol and that play list meant only one thing. I’d had a meltdown. Something had pushed me over the edge … but what?
I selected my love songs play list and turned the volume down when my head protested. I sat on the sofa and tried to recollect what had triggered my meltdown. Nothing! It felt like thick fog was filling my mind, obscuring my memories and making me incapable of piecing together the events of the day before. It was so maddening. I sat and nibbled my toast slowly, managing to eat most of it. I picked up my cell phone and noticed that I had 7 missed calls from Angel from the previous afternoon. Why hadn’t I answered my cell? Think Issy!
Angel came back into the room, singing cheerfully as she towel dried her hair. I stood and turned, preparing to ask her to keep her voice down. My uneaten piece of toast slid off my plate and landed, butter side down, on the sofa. Oh great!
I grabbed a handful of tissues from the coffee table, picked up the offending food and attempted to wipe the butter off the sofa with the tissue. I stood up, realizing that I would need a damp cloth to wipe off the grease and picked up my plate. I was turning away when I noticed a tiny triangle of paper, peeping out from between two of the seat cushions. I pulled at it with my fingernails, and out it slid. I stood up and turned it over. It was a check … and ju
st like that, my memory returned. I felt the color drain from my face and heard my plate hit the floor.
I sank down onto the sofa, all thoughts of buttery stains forgotten as pain seared through my chest and the tears began to fall once again. Angel was at my side instantly, holding me and stroking my hair. “Hush, baby girl,” she said repeatedly.
Eventually, my sobbing subsided but still Angel held me. She didn’t give me her usual inquisition, although I knew that curiosity must be killing her. I gave her a fierce hug and then released her. I took a deep breath and then told her about the events that had happened whilst she’d been watching the band rehearse.
Her hands flew to her mouth when I told her about the check being delivered. “Oh my god,” she said. “I had forgotten all about that - when I saw the check made out to you, I thought that he was trying to buy your affection - you know, like in Pretty Woman.
I felt a rush of affection for Angel and her unwavering loyalty as I remembered her angry outburst the night before. I told her that I remembered it and she laughed. “You know, Chad and Travis were all for hunting him down and finding out what he’d done. When we saw the check in your hand, we knew your meltdown was caused by him. Scott was the voice of reason, although he said that he would be the first to punch Lucas if it were proved that he deserved it.”
“Did Ethan not offer to defend my honor?” I asked, pretending to be miffed.
“I think that Ethan would be too worried that his pretty face might get damaged if he was anywhere near a fight!”
We laughed and I had never felt so grateful for this wonderful friend of mine. Apart from Angel, I was alone in the world. What on earth will I do when she settles down and leaves me on my own? The thought genuinely scared me.
Chapter 4
Monday morning came around all too quickly and I seriously considered working from home but I knew that I would have to go into the office, sooner or later. Besides, there were plans and designs that I needed for a meeting with a prospective client the following morning.
I walked into the building, my legs feeling like lead. Clark greeted me and complimented me on my hair. I smiled my thanks and made my way to the elevator. I had decided what it was that I needed to do, so I pressed the button for the 20th floor instead of mine. My heart began to hammer in my chest. What if he’s there? Should I just go back down to my office and post it instead?
I took deep calming breaths and, when the elevator doors opened, I squared my shoulders and walked out into the reception lobby with as much poise and confidence that I could manage. The handsome male receptionist was behind the desk, wearing the requisite gray suit. I walked over to him and smiled. I was just pulling a small envelope out of my purse when Daniel walked out of his office into the lobby. His eyebrows rose slightly and he glanced at the receptionist before walking over to me.
“Can I help you, Miss Prince?”
“Could you please see that Mr Hunter gets this as soon as possible?” I asked sweetly, as I held out the envelope.
“Just a moment; I’ll let him know that you are here,” he said, and began to turn away.
“No!” I cried with more force than I intended.
Daniel turned back to me - his eyebrows now in danger of merging with his hairline. “But he gave me strict instructions that I was to inform him immediately if you called.” He looked nervous and I wondered how much of Lucas’ frustration and wrath Daniel encountered on a regular basis I immediately felt sorry for him.
“When was this?” I asked.
“Last week.”
“Ah, I think that you will find that the situation has changed since then. I am sure he will revise his instruction this morning,” I said, with a wry smile.
“Miss Prince, I … um …okay, but I must take it to him while you are here,” he said, looking uncomfortable as he turned away.
I shot to the elevator and pressed the call button, desperately hoping that the car would still be there. I should have known better; at that time on a Monday morning there was no way the elevator would be where I left it. Come on! Come on!
I heard raised voices and I knew that Lucas had come out of his office. Oh fuckety fuck! I turned and bolted for the staircase, disappearing through the door as I heard him shout my name. I tried to run down the stairs but my movements were uncoordinated and I staggered, grasping the handrail to prevent me from falling. I heard the door slam back against the wall above me and it spurred me into action again. I heard his feet running effortlessly down the steps and I knew that there was no way that I could outrun him. I reached the landing of the 19th floor and suddenly decided to exit there in the hope that he wouldn’t make a scene in front of other people. This seemed like the better option, rather than be trapped by him, alone on the stairs.
My momentum carried me forward as I turned my body towards the door and I lost my footing, careering straight into the wall. I heard his anguished shout before everything went black.
I opened my eyes and was hit with a blinding pain before they could focus so I immediately closed them again. My mind struggled to remember what had happened, as my head pounded. I gradually became aware that my upper body was warm but my legs weren’t. Suddenly, I realized that I could feel a heartbeat that wasn’t mine. I could feel it beating against the side of my ribcage. Then I realized that I was being held by strong arms. I desperately tried to work out where I was and, more importantly, whose arms I was in. I turned my head to the side slightly.
“Hey, how are you feeling? Are you okay?” said a deep voice, quietly and tenderly. I felt my heart lurch. I know that voice! Um … I think I know that voice! Who is he? I couldn’t bring myself to attempt to open my eyes again.
“Issy, can you hear me? Are you okay?” The voice was still quiet but there was an urgent note to it now.
“Yes,” I managed to whisper. “I think so. What happened? Where am I?”
“Oh thank god. Right, we need to get you off this floor and make sure that you really are okay,” he said decisively.
I felt him move but my upper body and my head were kept supported. Then I was carefully lifted up off the floor and cradled against a muscular chest. Instinctively, I placed my arms around his neck. From the movement, I thought that we were going up some steps but I felt, as well as heard, him kick open a door before walking towards distant voices. They grew louder and then suddenly stopped. I heard his voice reverberate in his chest as he barked, “Hold all of my calls.” Very soon after, he stopped walking and just held me. I was about to ask where he had taken me when I heard the unmistakable sound of elevator doors opening. He moved forward briefly and I heard the doors close.
I could feel apprehension building. I thought that this man’s voice was familiar but I could be mistaken. I had no idea where I was or what had happened to me because he didn’t answer me when I asked! I tried not to panic and took a deep calming breath, in through my nose and was stunned by the scent of him … that cologne … I know that smell … that smell turns me on … I have been up close and personal with … oh! I felt soft lips brush against my temple.
The image of eyes, the color of the darkest night sky, materialized in my mind. It’s Lucas Hunter! Why on Earth had I been on the floor in his arms? And why does my head feel like it has been hit with a sledgehammer? Why …
My thoughts were interrupted by the elevator doors opening again. We immediately moved off and I strained to hear any clues as to our whereabouts but it was silent, apart from his footsteps on hard flooring.
“Hold tight,” he said softly and I felt him lowering me carefully onto something soft and comfortable. My arms slid from around his neck and, as they came to rest against my sides, I could feel cool, soft leather under my skin. He broke the contact between us but then I felt his hand, gently smoothing my hair away from my face.
“Would you like some Tylenol or perhaps I should call a doctor?”
“No,” I whispered. “Tylenol would be great. Thanks.”
As I heard hi
s footsteps growing quieter, I again tried to remember what had happened. I knew that I must have hurt myself or have fallen ill from the way my head was threatening to explode. It was useless - I couldn’t remember a thing. I decided to try to open an eye to determine my whereabouts. I managed to crack one eye open but pain lanced through my forehead before I could focus.
I heard his footsteps returning and then I felt him gingerly raising my head and holding a glass to my lips. I sipped cool water and then he gave me the pills to take.
“How are you feeling now?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
“I’ve felt better,” I replied, with a weak smile. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a train.”
“I’ve just spoken with my doctor. I’ve been instructed to keep you under observation in case you are concussed. It is unlikely but I‘m not taking any chances. I have a list of symptoms to keep an eye out for.”