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“Wait, what heavy stuff?” I ask.
“You’re so funny. You must be American. Americans are just wild,” she continues.
“Listen, lady. I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about. What do the locals not partake in? What does everyone know that we don’t know?”
“Oh, gosh. You really don’t know? That’s hilarious!” she goes on.
I’m getting really fucking irritated with the run around here, and I’m clenching a fist. I’m about ready to jam a scone in her mouth if she doesn’t get to the point.
I glare at her as she chuckles, and when she realized I’m not joking around, she wises up.
“Last night,” she says. “The absinthe.”
“Absinthe. Fucking great. Just absolutely perfect,” I say. “So we were tripping balls the entire night, guys.”
“You really were,” the waitress adds, now chuckling to herself as she recalls our behavior. “You looked like you were having a really fun time. I was almost jealous; I’d never seen anyone stick around long enough that they started hallucinating while they were still at the cafe.”
We all look at one another, wondering how the fuck we managed to get out of the cafe and end up in our hotel room.That is just highly unlikely. We need more answers.
I take a long, drawn out sip of coffee, slurping the dark, rich life blood. I’m relying on it to get me through this day.
I don’t even really understand.Didn’t we notice?Is it one of those things you wouldn’t notice until it’s too late?
She did just say we stuck around long enough to start tripping right there.
“Hey, who was here?” I ask her.
“Excuse me?”
“Our group. You said you served us last night. Was it just us or were there more people?”
“There was one more person. A man. He was incredibly handsome. And you and him. Well, let me say again, you were making me a jealous.”
What man?
“Oh, no. That’s really not enough. What do you mean I was making you jealous?”
Just then, my nose is tickled by the aroma of amaretto coffee. A waiter has just brought a cup to the next table.
The familiar scent triggers a shiver down my spine, sending a chill on my back and making me feel uneasy.
As I slap my hands down the table and try to swallow through the lump on my throat, Sammi, Mysti, and Becky are all staring at me, concern shown on their faces.
I don’t know what’s going on.
And like a fucking freight train, it hit me hard that we were, in fact, here last night. And that I had a pretty good reason to make our tight little waitress jealous.
Whoever I was with last night was drinking amaretto coffee. Thinking back, I can almost see him sipping it right now, sitting where Becky’s sitting and nibbling on a scone.
And it doesn’t get easier from there. The girls all study my face as I stay frozen, memories of last night come flooding in.
“What’s going on, Perce?” Sammi asks.
I rest my head against my palm and just take little sips of my coffee, staring off, going through each moment in my mind.
