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Two margaritas down, and I could barely form words. Ron put me onto a floating lounger, hanging on the edge and filling my glass whenever it got half empty.
“Noh more. God, Imso drunk.” The sun was getting low But I had no concept of time.
“Come on, let’s get you dried off.”
Ron pulled the lounger toward the edge of the pool, taking my hand and leading me stumbling and dripping toward the pool house.
“Wa-ate, my trowel’s right shere…” I had no feeling in my arm as I reached out, but Ron ignored me, pulling me toward the door of the cabana.
At the entry, he spun me to face him, his long arms looping around my waist as I teetered, the warmth of his mouth on mine as his tongue pressed inside. I gagged at the taste of tequila on his lips, grunting and pressing hard against his chest, struggling to disengage.
“Hey! Ron, what're you…”
“Shhh, you know Adam’s not right for you. You pretty much said so for the last two hours. Come on, let’s go inside. Give me a chance. I’ll show you how you should be treated.”
His lips connected with my throat and I felt his tongue sliding toward my ear. “No, no, noonono. Ron, stop.”
He didn’t stop. Instead, he sucked my ear lobe between his lips, as I dug fingers dug into his chest, but his arms were locked around my waist. The liquor swimming in my head and my legs gave no support.
With every ounce of strength, I pushed, wrenching my body away.
“I said stop!” I screamed, a dark guilt cloaking me, sobering me up for a moment wishing I could turn back time and all the things I said to Adam earlier.
And about Adam to Ron.
My temper has always been my downfall. That little girl inside me sometimes just needs spanking.
And a hug.
All the wiggling and pushing did nothing. I was a wet noodle against Ron’s clutching hands and his seeking mouth and a gnawing in my belly told me this time my temper had put me in real danger.
“Yeah.” I heard the deep voice come from behind and a shudder rumbled through me. It was Adam and that single word hit me in the chest like a cannon ball and turned Ron to stone. “I suggest you stop if you want to keep your head attached to your motherfucking body.”
He stood a few feet away, the light flickering off the pool across his hard face and I could feel the heat from him radiating through the space between us. His glare was focused on Ron, unwavering. I wasn’t even sure he was breathing.
“Get out.” Ron yelled. “This isn’t your house. How’d you get in?” His voice suddenly sounded so small.
“And that’s not your girlfriend but that didn’t seem to stop you from putting your fucking hands all over her.” His blue gaze left Adam and centered on me, as he pointed to a spot on the concrete patio next to his left foot. “Come here, Angel, right fucking now.”
He then raised that hand and I disentangled myself from Ron’s grasping paws. I stumble-ran to Adam, avoiding his eyes but never more thankful to see him, and slipped my hand into his, clinging on to him like a life raft in a storm. Without a word, Adam swept his hand down my back, kissed the top of my head as I choked on the lump of regret stuck in my throat.
“You alright?” He asked and I answered with a tiny nod then nodded toward the open patio doors of the house. “Come on.”
He reached over and grabbed a towel that lay on the lounge chair slipping it over my shoulders.
“But, my clothes…”
“I don’t give a shit about your clothes. Where’s your purse?”
He snatched up my bag, slung it over his shoulder then turned, marched over to Ron who tip-toe ran in the other direction, but he wasn’t fast enough.
Adam grabbed the back of his neck, swung him around and threw him ten feet into the deep end of the pool.
He set his eyes back on me, took my hand and lead us back out the front door.
3
There is truly nothing quite like a white wine and tequila hangover.
The six hundred horses that rode into the Valley of Death were pounding their hooves in my head.
What’s worse, is when you wake up and all the nasty, drunk shit you said and did the night before washes over you like a fetid bucket of shame.
I curled into the fetal position pulling the duvet over my head, oblivious to how I ended up in the guest bedroom, and praying for sleep to take me back into its blissful, ignorant arms.
But the voices inside my head denied my escape.
Where was Adam? I remembered was coming home. I was in rare form of course. I remembered his eyes were flat, disconnected. Completely indifferent to the drunk ranting that drained from my mouth like sewer water.
