Thirty Days: Part Two

by Belle Brooks

  “No, Miss Abigail, it wasn’t for shooting, it was for sipping.”

  “Too late. Quick! Water!” My sudden hoarse laughter bellows throughout the room. “Sssh. Sorry.” I snicker.

  “No more for you. One water coming up.”

  “Not fair.” My lip drops in a pout.

  Squeezing my instantly hazy eyes shut, I find myself spinning. Well, not me as much as my head. Already starved veins are pumped with poison…poison I know will quickly spread throughout my body as I gulp the water down as fast as I did the Bowdi Nightmare. The burn continues its path to my stomach. Enjoying this harsh and sudden buzz, numbness begins to spread through my legs. I relax. “Oh my God, after today, this makes everything so much better. You’re a good barkeep, Bowdi.”

  “It appears you can hold your liquor, Miss Abigail. I was worried you’d fall flat on your face and pass out after drinking that so fast.”

  “Let’s just say I’ve had a rough time lately. Can I tell you a secret?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m not supposed to be drinking.” Trying to put my finger over my lips proves more difficult than one would think.

  “Another water coming right up.” Bowdi chortles.

  “Bowdi, Bowdi, Bowdi. Do you have time for a little story about the life of the cursed?”

  “For a pretty lady like you, sure.” This man epitomizes laid back and super chilled.

  “Aww, Bowdi, you are one smooth fellow. I can tell.” My speech lingers on the syllables of each word. “Okay. Now it’s a fairy tale. Do you like fairy tales, Bowdi?”

  “Sure, who doesn’t?”

  “Exactly, who the heck doesn’t?” My words begin to slur.

  The grin plastered on his face looks permanently stitched on.

  “Okay, so once upon a time in a faraway land lived this chick…let’s call her Abi, for the story’s sake.”

  “Abi, okay,” he says, now polishing a glass with a microfibre cloth.

  “Well, Abi was an only child who fell in love with…let’s refer to him as the Magician.”

  “Magician, sure.”

  “Well, the Magician is one hell of a sexy hunk of man meat—if you are getting what I’m putting down.” My eyebrows wiggle up and down. Well, at least that’s what I believe them to be doing.

  Bowdi nods with his lips stretched wide.

  “The Magician is ripped. Oh my dear God, that body!” I can feel my mouth salivating, so I attempt to slurp moisture back between my lips. “Did you see that?” My cheeks warm.

  “I did.”

  “Erase it.”

  “Okay.” He chuckles.

  “Now, where was I? The Magician, that’s right. Well, he’s also very kind, but underhanded, impossible, and bossy…he’s so stinkin’ bossy. But, Bowdi, he’s so stinkin’ sexy. In bed…wow, between me and you, he’s like a sex god.”

  “Good in bed, thanks for sharing.” His smile broadens further as he picks up another glass.

  “You are welcome,” I slur more obviously. “Now this Magician asked me to marry him and I wanted to say yes—hello, he’s a god, remember? But unfortunately, I…oh, I mean Abi, fell off a fucking cliff and smacked her stupid head and got this thing they call amnesia. Do you know what amnesia is, Bowdi?”

  “I do.”

  “See, and that’s the curse for you. That’s how the life of the hexed plays out. You know, Bowdi, crap like this happens to me a lot.”

  “That’s pretty rough.” His smile vanishes, his expression fuzzy, but blank.

  “It is. Poor Abi…so, anyway, the curse fucked me over, I mean Abi over, and she forgot all about this magical magician god man. Then one day she meets this mega tool—let’s call him Mike…”

  “Mike. Right.”

  “Well…Mike broke Abi’s heart. Now this Mike also asked Abi to marry him, but there were no cliffs around to bash her head against and she unfortunately said yes.”

  “Congratulations, Abi, is what I would have said if you hadn’t started with he broke her heart and referred to him as a mega tool.”

  “Right?”

  “No big wedding day for you…sorry, I mean Abi?”

  I laugh hard, my head dropping downwards from the force. Rolling my neck, I manage to perch my head in the upright position once more. “No. No big day. It’s a good thing, though, because this jerk-off dumped me…I mean Abi, on the day I…I mean she bought a wedding dress.” More laughter spews from my mouth before I’m delivered a terrible case of the hiccups.

  “Wow, that’s horrible.”

  “Right? Now, Bowdi, let me tell you what brought me to this beautiful bar today.”

  “Okay. But first let’s get rid of those hiccups. Drink this—”

  “Orange juice?”

  “It will help.”

  “Okay,” I say, sculling the small glass of juice before leaning in as close as I can.

  Bowdi follows suit and places his elbow on the bar, angling his body closer to mine.

  “That fucking twat Mike is here—in this venue—up those stairs out there.” My hand claps over my mouth as if a secret, bigger than classified government codes, has been spilt. “I never found out why he dumped me.” I get sidetracked. “Hey, it worked. The hiccups are gone.”

  Bowdi raises a brow.

  “I never asked Mike why.” I continue, “I left and then I got on with life, and then I got sad and then Marcus…I mean the Magician came back into my life and I remembered—now I remember. My life is a fucking mess, Bowdi. I just wish I knew why I wasn’t good enough, then maybe I wouldn’t be so miserable and sad anymore…I mean Abi wouldn’t be those things.”

  “I think Abi should go and ask why. That is if she were here in the same venue as him.” He presses his body closer to mine.

  “You do?”

  “Yes. Closure is important in the healing process.”

  “It is, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. Now how about you stop drinking those sorrows away and go and get the answer you want to know?”

  “Bowdi, you are an ideas man. Fuck him. I’m asking, damn it.” My eyes widen as I almost fall from the stool trying to stand up. Holding my bag in my hand, I stumble my way through the exit, trying to wave to my newfound friend at the same time…turns out doing two things at once is hard when you’re practically paralytic drunk.

  “I have a right to know, Mike, you loser!” I spit.

  Bigger Mistake

  Making it to the top of the next staircase was difficult, but I finally accomplished it. My eyes blink constantly as the buzz numbing my body blankets my brain with another fuzzy coating. Relaxed and carefree, there’s no longer any fear residing within me. I want to hear the answer to my fucking question after so long. Running my fingers down a blurred coffee-coloured wall, I see a sign on a stand. Squinting, I manage to read the words.

  Welcome, guests.

  Take a glass, relax, and enjoy our pre wedding celebration.

  Tomorrow we say I do.

  Love, Mike and Mon.

  “That should be my sign, you cow,” I slur poorly.

  Approaching the open door, I see a bunch of people standing around, participating in deep and varying conversations. There would have to be a couple of hundred people in here and the different noises and tones from so many make it hard for me to concentrate. Each face is alight with stinkin’ happiness as I scan the room looking for Mike. Small tables are scattered around a sweet, yet large room that has vases of purple flowers everywhere. Chandeliers hang from a mega high ceiling and the smell wafting into the hall is sweet, a scent I fear I’ll have difficulty removing from my senses later.

  Wait staff in gold blazers stand posed with silver trays rested against their palms. A variety of finger foods fill these trays, and guests make selections as they pass them by. “Well, aren’t you two lardy-da,” I say under my breath.

  Ting. Ting. Ting.

  The multitude of sounds slowly stops. The room becomes a hush.

  “I’d like
to say a few words to my beautiful bride-to-be, if I may.” Mike’s voice rings loudly through a microphone that my blurred sight spots as he takes to a stage.

  There you are, arsehole.

  “Mon, baby, you are my world. I couldn’t begin to imagine what life would be like if you weren’t here. Tomorrow you will be my wife, and with you by my side, I know I will be the next mayor of this city. I can do anything if you are with me.”

  Monique suddenly flashes into my view. She’s wearing a deep pink dress that has a bow at the back. It’s all I can see because she is facing away from me.

  “When I met you, I instantly fell head over heels in love. I looked into your beautiful eyes and I was mesmerised. No woman is as beautiful as you. No woman has made me feel the way you do, Mon.”

  My jaw tenses. My heart constricts with pain as anger rips through my alcohol soaked skin.

  “There is no other,” he continues, “nobody could ever come close to you, Monique. Forever and always. I’ll love you forever and always.”

  “What the actual fuck, Mike?” I scream these words while staggering into the room. Somehow I manage to stomp through a clearing. People must be stepping aside, or I’m just navigating at a high standard. Mike’s mother’s mouth gapes open from a large gasp that has my head turning in her direction. A daughter she wanted, my arse.

  “Excuse me.”

  Monique.

  I don’t acknowledge her words spoken politely, for I fear I might just slap her pretty little face hard if I do. “I’m not talking to you, Monique, I’m talking to Mike…you know, the Mike who’s a gutless pig. Really? Really? Forever and always…forever and fucking always. Ha. You suck. Monique, did you know that your fiancé used to say those exact words to me? For three fucking years he said those meaningless words to me.”

  Monique’s eyes now connect to mine as I decide to glare directly at her. She’s blurry, but I’m pretty sure by now she’s pissed.

  “Abigail, what are you doing here?” Mike drops the microphone as he rushes towards me.

  “Listening to you dribble verbal diarrhoea, Mike. Fuck, you can talk shit. Just tell me, you fucktard, if you love her so much then why the hell were you at my house only this morning? Well, we are all waiting for an answer, Mike. Let’s not be rude to all your guests.”

  “This is not the time nor the place, Abigail.” His face reddens in fury as his fingers wrap around my upper arm, pinching the skin as he pulls me back towards the door.

  I stumble, falling down twice, but both times he tugs my arm hard, lifting me back to my feet.

  Why can I see the stage? Are we walking back towards it?

  “Let her go, immediately.” These words echo through me, dulling the heavy ache that constricts my heart. Suddenly the wild anger that has my jaw clamping shut begins to lift. Water droplets leak from my eyes as they close and I breathe.

  “Fuck off,” Mike spits, still gripping me tightly.

  “I’m giving you to the count of three to let her go, or I’m going to punch your fucking lights out.” Surprisingly this is said with not a hint of malice in it.

  I can’t see Marcus. I’ve no idea where he is, but his voice tells me that he’s come to claim me just like he promised.

  “Fine,” Mike hisses before releasing me.

  I find it hard to balance at first but manage to stay on my feet as I glare at Mike now standing directly in front of me.

  “Why, Abigail? Why are you doing this?”

  “Why, Mike? Why did you leave me? What did I do?” I retort, holding back further tears.

  Warmth presses against my back, and I use this warmth to lean on, to take away the weight of my weakening legs. Burly arms wrap around my waist and the smell of mint and the rush of his breath up my neck offer a shield to the pain that Mike’s answer will bring.

  “Ask him, Abigail. Why don’t you ask him?” These words are yelled as Mike points at me.

  “Marcus,” I whisper.

  “Go home, Abigail, you’re drunk. Please leave,” Mike roars as his back becomes my view and he embraces the woman in the deep pink dress, who is now howling.

  I didn’t mean to hurt her. I don’t even know her. I just needed an answer and I got nothing…

  What was he on about? How would Marcus know?

  Unless…

  Blackout

  I’m floating as the sound of music plays softly. My body becomes heavy as I jolt upright at the sudden and loud honking of a horn. Fear instantly flips the pit of my stomach. Where the hell am I? Turning my head quickly, everything spins like a show ride flung at high speeds. I try hard to focus but can’t.

  “Abigail, it’s okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” His soft tone offers reassurance.

  “Marcus.” My mouth is bone dry.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re home. Back from Sydney?” My tongue tries to offer moisture to my lips, but it has none to provide.

  “I am. I’m taking you back to my place now, Abigail.”

  “Am I drunk?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.” It’s now I taste vomit in my mouth.

  “Close your eyes. We’re almost there. Try not to be sick in the car, okay?”

  “Did I pass out?”

  “You did.” Concern is etched in his tone.

  “You caught me.”

  “With catcher’s hands.” His worry increases.

  “What happened?”

  “Abi, just close your eyes, beautiful, and relax. Okay?”

  “O…k.” My eyes flutter shut.

  I’m bouncing when my eyes flutter open again. “Well, hello, good-looking.” I snicker when Marcus’ foggy face fills my sight. He smiles down at me, and I find myself returning his infectious smile back before saying, “Now this is service.” My body is being carried between two arms with bulging biceps. Could my life just stop right here now?

  Marcus’ smile grows wider, but he says nothing.

  “Now this is how a woman should get from A to B. In the arms of a Hottie McHottie like you,” I slur before giggling loudly. “I’ve decided you can carry me like this every day for the remainder of my existence.”

  “I can…can I?” He speaks through lips that are still curled in amusement.

  “Yep,” I reply, my intoxication still very noticeable.

  The sound of buttons beeping tells me we have reached our destination—Marcus’ penthouse. The last time I was here Marcus invaded my mind, body, and soul before leaving my heart tainted. This time will be different. This time I’m in charge. I know who Marcus is now. I know our past. Well, some of it, anyway.

  “Here you go, beautiful.” With ease I’m placed onto my back, laid out on a sofa. My hand bangs against the flooring as he kisses my forehand. Quietly he says, “Stay here. I’ll bring you some water. Let’s try and lessen your impending hangover, shall we?”

  The sound of his feet taking him away grows distant as my heart hammers in my chest. I stand, then my knees buckle and I topple down. Slowly, I use my hands to push myself upwards until my feet hold my weight once more.

  “Abigail, what are you doing? I told you to lie down.”

  “No, you told me to stay here.” I run my fingers through my locks as the strands cascade over my shoulders. Was my hair always out?

  “Well, lie down then.”

  “No.” Defiance is my middle name.

  Marcus’ eyes narrow as he half smiles while holding a tumbler of water in one hand and a packet of something in the other. I can feel my body swaying as my fingertips run over my covered breasts before hooking in under the straps of my dress. Pulling each one off my shoulders, they slide with ease, stopping at my elbows.

  Marcus chuckles as his eyes flick up from my chest and connect with mine. “Abigail.”

  “Marcus.”

  Freeing my arms from the straps of my maxi dress, it slips down before pooling at my feet. Feet that I now realise are bare. Where are my shoes?

  Exposed, my breathing deepens, beco
ming more rapid.

  Marcus stands still, watching with a grin planted across his face.

  Stepping over the material, I walk with an exaggerated shake of my hips, knowing his eyes will be crazy glued to me, devouring this moment and storing it in his mind. Each step brings me a little closer to my intended target.

  “Abigail—”

  “Marcus.” My voice hums his name.

  Taking the tumbler of water from his hand, I almost drop it but manage to keep hold in time. Bringing it to my lips, I tilt my head and scull the liquid. “All done,” I announce triumphantly.

  Marcus takes the glass back. “Let’s get you into bed.”

  “Let’s.”

  He swaps the packet into the same hand as the glass before taking my hand in his and leading me towards the bedroom. Every part of me wants this—needs this. There is no fear now, only desire. His hand leaves mine before lamplight fills the room. I yearn for his touch as he places the items he’s holding onto the bedside table. His mouth gapes open slightly, his hair a mess as his body remains clothed in jeans and a collared shirt…everything about this man is delicious and as this thought enters my mind, I clamp down on my bottom lip with my teeth. Marcus’ mouth goes slack as his hands rummage through his charcoal hair. I watch each bicep flex, causing my teeth to bite down harder.

  “What are you doing to me?”

  “Giving you what you want.”

  “You’re drunk, Abi.”

  “So?”

  “I can’t. I’m­—”

  Moving forcefully, I close the gap between us and take the corners of his collar between my fingers. I fix my eyes on his before sucking his bottom lip between mine.

  He doesn’t move. He doesn’t kiss me. He does nothing.

  Leaving his mouth, I frown, my eyebrows pulling down.

  “You’re drunk.” His face goes serious as his voice drops.

  “Are you telling me we’ve never done this when I’m drunk?”

  He pauses. “Well, no, we have, but that was different.”

  “How?”

  “It just was.”

  I press my body against his, enfolding my arms around his neck. “But you want me. That’s not a gun in your pants now, is it?”