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“Twins,” I replied, giggling, followed by a hiccup. “Did you see my bellybutton?”
“I saw quite a lot of you in that picture, Tylar. This is how you behave yourself?”
Gina and the twins were staring at me now. They'd figured out that I was in some sort of a pickle with someone. Gina knew exactly who it was. They were waiting to see how it would play out. I didn’t appreciate getting a lecture from Trey every time I went out and had some fun.
“I'm sending someone to get you Tylar,” he snapped.
“I’m not ready to leave yet,” I slurred into the phone. I hiccupped again.
“Tylar, I mean it—”
I powered off the phone before I heard whatever it was Trey planned on yelling over the phone.
“I need another wine,” I announced, dropping my phone into my purse cockily.
CHAPTER 17
I was leaning over the toilet in Trey’s bathroom, heaving. Still dressed in my jean skirt and top I'd no idea how long I'd been at this. To the best of my recollection, Gina was in her bathroom playing the same song in her toilet. I tried to gather my thoughts as to how we'd even gotten back to the manor. Everything was so fuzzy…and painful. I promised myself that I'd never, ever drink again. I couldn’t imagine what I was throwing up other than the wine; I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. My head was throbbing already. Another spasm hit and I leaned over the toilet once again.
I finally managed to crawl up from my crouched position. I flushed the toilet, staggering over to the double sink vanity. I looked like something a cat puked up. My mascara was smeared halfway down my check on each side. My eyes were bloodshot and my hair was matted. I ran my fingers through it and realized it was vomit.
Eeww!
I debated whether I could stand long enough to take a shower. There's no way I was going to bed with puke in my hair. I made my way to my room, using the walls on each side of the hall to bounce off of until I reached it. I grabbed clean undies and Trey’s navy blue bathrobe and headed back to Trey’s bathroom.
Once there, I stepped out of my clothes and turned the shower on, getting the temperature adjusted. I stepped in and began scrubbing myself. I shampooed my hair, twice. Gingerly stepping out of the shower, I wrapped my hair up in a towel and wrapped Trey’s robe around me.
What to sleep in? I turned the light on in Trey’s closet and stepped in it was nearly the size of a small bedroom. He had rows of neatly pressed shirts, dress pants, casual pants, and shirts. I saw one of his french cuffed white business shirts hanging on a hook, as if he'd changed quickly and hadn’t had time to throw it in the laundry chute in the bathroom. I lifted one of the sleeves up to my face, catching his scent. I quickly shed the robe and put the shirt on, rolling up the sleeves as their length went clear over my hands. I buttoned it up to just above my breasts and rubbed it against my skin.
I returned to Trey’s bathroom and brushed my teeth and gargled. My head was still pounding. I dug through the medicine chest and found some Advil, popping a couple. I didn’t bother to take the towel off of my head; I went back into the bedroom, pulled down the covers of Trey’s bed and climbed in, pulling the blankets up under my chin. I looked over at the clock on Trey’s bedside table. It was almost 3 a.m. How did we even get back here? I must've blacked out. So not good.
It seemed as if no time had passed since my head hit the pillow that there was a faint knocking on my door.
“Come in,” I called out, the echo of my voice reverberating in my head, amplified a hundred times. Gina bounced in, wearing her short silk robe, holding a cup of coffee and her unlit cigarette. She hopped up on the bed, putting her coffee on the nightstand, while she climbed under the covers.
“You going to sleep all day, girlfriend?” she asked in her usual bubbly manner. She grabbed the remote off the nightstand and turned on the flat-screen. She channel surfed as well as any man I knew, and just before I was about to snap at her to stop, she landed a channel that caught her attention.
“Oh Ty,” she said, “TCM's running Hitchcock movies all weekend!”
“Oh God, turn it down a notch,” I said, wrapping the goose-down pillow around my still throbbing head.
“This is one of my favorites, ‘Marnie,’” she continued, all bubbly and normal. She glanced over, sensing my less-than-enthusiastic mood. “You look like shit; we can fix that.”
She bounced off of the bed and padded over to the intercom on the wall, hitting the button to alert someone on the staff. In a few moments, Thatcher’s voice came over the intercom.
“Yes, miss?”
“Thatch, this is Gina here.”
Oh God, she’s calling him 'Thatch'.
“Tylar's a bit under the weather this afternoon. Could you please send up a tray with the following?”
I couldn’t listen any more when she started rattling off various food items. I wrapped the pillow tightly over my head. She climbed back into bed after advising the staff what was required as if she owned the place. Gina had balls.
“You’ll be fixed up shortly, girlfriend. No worries. I’m not going to let you ruin one of our perfectly good days off.”
I eyed her warily.
