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“I’m not telling you who else does anything,” Starla said. “Sorry. I’m not going to be twisted up.”
“Well, actually, I think you are,” Josie said. “I can breathe one word to Jefferson and he’ll have everyone drug tested.”
“Don’t be like that.”
“Be like what? Correct me if I’m wrong here, but you were almost blackout drunk last night, ready to go to a hotel with a random guy, with, what, five hundred dollars in your pocket, plus some junk? Are you fucking crazy?”
“I don’t have to answer to you,” Starla said.
“No, you don’t. I’m standing here as your friend right now. But when we get to the club, I’m your boss. I don’t want this shit. Ever. This can ruin you, the other girls, and the business.”
Starla rolled her eyes.
That’s when Josie suddenly felt like she was a mother. No, she felt like her father. The tough guy cop who could never show a soft side, fearing weakness showing through. No matter though, he always provided a house and a stable enough life.
“Are you done?” Starla asked.
“No, I’m not done. Do you even care, Starla? I mean, how the hell do you live like that? You just wake up on some person’s couch… and what? Stumble around to find your clothes? Hoping to sneak out so there’s no strange interaction with some guy you fucked?”
Starla laughed. “You’re just jealous because you haven’t had a dick inside you in years. You probably don’t even remember how to fuck.”
“Great,” Josie said. “Go on the defensive now. You know what? I don’t care. You’re safe. You have your money. I flushed the junk. If I see that shit again in the club, heads will roll. I’m telling you and if you want to help the others, tell them the same thing. I’m not going to have the MC coming after me.”
“We really live in a town where a motorcycle club has more power than the police?”
Josie ignored the question and pointed to Starla’s coffee mug. “Finish your coffee. I’m going to make us some eggs and-”
A horrible sound echoed from the bathroom down the hallway.
“What the hell was that?” Starla asked.
Josie reached for her coffee mug off the counter and sighed.
Looks like it’s time to tend to another hangover issue…
* * *
Josie triedto balance her coffee mug on the sink, but it quickly fell into the sink, tipping over, all that beautiful coffee wasting down the drain. She hurried to grab Steph’s hair, pulling it back to keep her from getting it all messed up with vomit. She was in a strange position, standing there with one hand holding her hair, the other touching her shoulder, basically straddling Steph as she got sick again.
The sound she made was worse than the vomit. It was as though she were dying, screaming as loud as she could. Coughing. Gagging. Finally gasping for air and groaning. She put her head sideways on the toilet and had her eyes half shut.
“Long night?” Josie asked.
“Shut up,” Steph whispered. “You don’t even know…”
“Know what? That you were partying and somehow got home and now you’re sick. You should have thrown up last night. You’d feel better this morning. Like Starla.”
“Starla’s here?”
“Oh yeah. I’m just living the dream, Steph. Call itJosie’s House of Drunk Ass Bitches…”
Steph smiled. “You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m dramatic? You sound…”
Before Josie could finish, Steph turned her head and got sick again. By this point, it was merely just retching, dry heaves and nothing coming up.
“Case in point,” Josie whispered.
