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"You, sir, are very cute, but you don't get to take me home," I declared. Loudly.
"Oh, I'm taking you home," he informed me, pulling me along with him down the street. "But I am gonna leave you there with some Advil and a bottle of water. Fully clothed."
"Afraid of what your buddy would think?" I asked, leaning my head into his shoulder as he half-dragged me along with him, my legs going tingly, just barely able to carry me.
"If you ever saw Adler fight, you'd know he is worthy of fearing. But no. I respect my brotherhood. Whether either of you would admit it or not, you're his. He's staked his claim. You're off limits."
"What are we, dogs? He just pees on me, and the rest of you back away?"
I could feel the laugh move through him before it left his lips. "It's about respect. And, hey, whatever kinky shit you and Adler are into is none of my business."
I smiled at that even as my eyelids started getting heavy. "I think I like you, Roderick," I declared.
"Like you too, Lou," he agreed, leaning down, swooping me up off my feet, holding me against his chest.
"This is not necessary. I have legs."
"Si, mami, but they don't seem to be working for you right now. How much did you have to drink?"
"Almost enough," I declared.
"How is it not enough?"
"Still thinkin'," I slurred into his shoulder, closing my eyes in an attempt to stop the swirling.
"About what?"
"He bought me a dog."
That was the last thing I remembered saying as we closed in on my apartment building, Roderick just chugging along like I weighed nothing, fishing my key out of my pocket at the door while doing some cocked-legged balance of my body.
Then he did as promised.
He situated me on the couch, handed me Advil, watched as I chugged some water, helped me kick off my shoes, gave Linny a giant bone out of the pantry to keep her occupied.
And left me.I woke up to a marching band in my brain.
And not the okay kind, the ones at the Macy's Day Parade each Thanksgiving.
No.
The ones in some Bumfuck, Nowhere town with no arts funding, some teacher who is half-deaf and just doesn't give a fuck anymore, and a group of kids who think by playing louder, they will sound better.
That kind of marching band.
My organs felt wrung dry, making me sure I had drank more than bourbon the night before. My beloved Turkey never did me this dirty. I had a feeling vodka had his wicked little hand in things. My stomach twisted and turned the moment my eyes opened, pinching small at the harsh light streaming through my window.
I was sure I had the blinds closed. Mostly because, well, I had never opened them. Since the view was directly into an apartment over the store next door where the owner never closed their blinds and liked to walk around naked. And, hey, I was all for freedom in your home, but I did not want to see that. Let's just say he was in desperate need of a full-body wax.
So, yeah, that blind had been closed.
And since Roderick had dropped me off at night, there was no reason to open it.
Which could only mean...
"It's rude to break into someone's apartment," I grumbled, my voice sounding like I had gargled with glass before bed.
"Linny let me in," Adler's voice said from behind me, calm, casual, maybe even a hint of amused.
It was inconsiderate to be amused in front of someone suffering from a hangover.
Summoning what strength I had, I pulled my upper body up, peeking over the back of the couch to find Adler sitting on my counter facing me, eating something out of one of my bowls, Linny at his feet looking up with pleading puppy dog eyes.
"Have you been hand feeding her?" I asked. Well, accused was more like it.
"She was hungry."
"She has dog food. You're going to spoil her."
"What's wrong with gettin' spoiled?"
"You say this because you're not the one who has to hear her cry anytime they eat from here on out."
"Sure I will. We're sharin' her, remember?"
"Fat lot of help you've been with that," I mumbled under my breath, too low to be heard clearly, my whole body in too much misery to care that it was an unfair thing to think, let alone say. Considering the situation.
"What was that?" he asked, tone still unaffected, making my stomach unclench, realizing he hadn't heard me.
"I need coffee," I ground out, reaching for the bottle of water Roderick had left for me.
"Lucky for ya, I have it brewin'," he informed me, and the sound of his rubber-soled boots hitting the floor somehow sent off a stabbing of pain in my temples. He made his way to me a moment later, holding out coffee made how I liked it - likely from observing my making it at the diner in Atlantic City. That felt like ages ago. The fact that he remembered made a sliver of warm move through my belly, giving me a short-lived break from the churning there.
