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“Hey, I cleaned up pretty well at the track last night. I’m $250 richer today,” she bragged.
“Is that after you paid our bar tab?” I asked.
“There, she’s coming around folks, getting back to her normal smart-ass self.”
“How can you possibly be so chipper?”
“Simple, Ty, I left a note on the kitchen counter before I went upstairs to my own puke-fest last night requesting what I needed on my breakfast tray, and what time I needed it brought to my room.”
She smiled, pleased with herself. She leaned back against the pillows she'd stuffed behind her back, turning the volume up just a bit on the television. “I love this part where he takes her on a cruise for their honeymoon and she won’t sleep with him. Who wouldn’t want to sleep with Sean Connery? Frigid bitch. It’s all her mom’s fault, the bible-thumping old prostitute.”
I was uncomfortable with the movie critique Gina was providing.
“Can we watch something else, please?” I asked.
“Sure,” Gina said, picking up the remote to resume surfing.
She finally landed on an “I Love Lucy” marathon.
“So,” I rolled over onto my side, bending my arm to support my throbbing head. “How'd we make it back here last night?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Obviously not, Gina, if I’m asking you.”
She gave out a loud hoot of laughter. Not good for the head. “Thatch picked us up.”
“You called him to come get us? Gina, you're running the staff ragged here. We can’t take advantage of Trey’s generosity and hospitality like that!” I was genuinely pissed. I didn’t want Trey or his staff thinking that I was some kind of a gold-digging bitch.
“Hold up there, girlfriend,” she replied. “I did not call Thatcher to pick us up. Trey did.”
“Trey? How'd Trey know where we were?”
“I’m thinking that picture of you and the twins might've tipped him off. You know the one I accidently saved and sent, instead of just saved?”
Oh, yes. It was all coming back to me now.
“After you hung up on him he evidently called Thatcher and instructed him to come and collect us at the track. He wanted to make sure that we got home okay. He probably could tell you were drunk on the phone.”
“Thank youverymuch, Gina!”
I wassoin trouble and I knew it. I looked over at her, trying to muster a glare. She was leaning back, sipping her coffee as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She wasn’t the one in trouble, I was!
“Hey Tylar,” she said, “Watch this.”
She took a long drag off of her unlit cigarette and pressed her lips into a tight circle, puckering in and out several times with her head tilted upward. She looked over at my questioning stare.
“Smoke rings for Chrissake,” she said, exasperated that I'd missed something so obvious. Just then, there was a light tap at the door.
“Come in,” Gina called.
Thatcher proceeded in with a tray that he set carefully down on the nightstand on my side of the bed.
“Hope this will help you feel better Ms. Preston. Please let me know if there's anything else I can get for you.”
He is calling me Ms. Preston again. I'm in deep, deep shit.
He looked over at Gina. “May I get you anything, Mrs. Hatton?” he inquired. Gina gave him her signature smile.
