He brought me food.
There's probably a good chance he didn't even steal from me or sell naked pictures of me.
Maybe.
I hope.
"Let's sit on the couch. The bathroom doesn't seem like the right place to eat."
Henderson smiles. "After you." He steps aside and gallantly waves the hand not holding the McDonald's bag.
I start to walk by him, only to realize I'm still just wearing my bra and underwear. "Let me put some clothes on and I'll meet you out there."
Back in my room, I frantically begin tearing through my suitcases. I hadn't really started unpacking yesterday before I got ready to meet up with Henderson. God, that seems so long ago.
The effort of finding clothes quickly saps my energy. My tank is empty and now movement is hard, my arms feeling like they weigh nine hundred pounds each. Finally, I locate a pair of pajama bottoms and a tank top. I'm just about dressed when I hear a loud voice.
"Who the hell are you and why the hell are you in my apartment?" It's Sergei, and he does not sound happy.
“Oh my God, where's Tabby? Tabby, are you okay? Tabby?" Even from down the hall, I can hear the frantic note in Angie's voice.
I try to pull the shirt down over my head, only to get caught in the strap. I'm on the move, heading toward Angie as I do this, which promptly results in me tripping over the end of the bed and going down like a sack of bricks.
I'm going to be covered in bruises, not from being drunk, but from being hungover and clumsy.
"OWW!"
The shirt is still over my face as I flail around. Arms envelop me, and in an instant, I'm sitting on the bed. Sergei is pulling my shirt down. "Tabby, are you okay? What happened? Did he do this to you?"
"He? No, I couldn't get my shirt on right. I also couldn't walk and get dressed at the same time. I'm super hungover, so if you can stop yelling, I'd really love that. I want to eat my food and go back to sleep for ten years, okay?" I blink and then focus on my friends, who I haven't seen in over a year. "But give me a hug first. I've missed you two nuts."
I hold my arms out, and both Angie and Sergei melt into them. I can't stabilize myself against them, so I fall back onto the bed, pulling them with me. Then, because it's all so ridiculous, I start laughing. Angie joins in, and then soon the three of us are lying there, holding on to each other for dear life, laughing like hyenas.
It's nice to know that no matter what, there will always be a place for me in the arms of one of my fellow Sassy Cats.
Chapter 8: Henderson
This day keeps getting weirder, and it's only nine in the morning.
Tabitha certainly is in rough shape. I mean, it became quite apparent when she couldn't work the key in the lock last night. The downstairs neighbor didn't appreciate the ruckus, for sure.
Tabitha even took it quite well when I told her—despite her fervent, yet uncoordinated efforts—that I couldn't have sex with her while she was three sheets to the wind. I did acquiesce and agree to stay the night, at her insistence.
Weighing only slightly in on that decision was the fact that I had no place to go, as my apartment is still flooded.
Still, there was a good chance that she was going to be tossing her cookies, and it was only responsible to stay and make sure she was safe.
Obviously, I didn't expect her friends to return so soon. Just as I'm sure they didn't expect to find a strange man on their couch eating his brekkie. I'd have yelled too if I were in their shoes, but still, the bloke seems like a dick.
There's a lot of noise coming from the bedroom. I try to ignore it and pull out my phone. I'd turned it off last night to conserve the battery.
Apparently, that was a mistake, because the moment I power up, it begins blowing up with messages and notifications. I have six—SIX—voicemails from Grayson. There are at least ten text messages.
Any more progress?
Um, dude, what’s going on?
H-what happened?
