by A. D. Roland
“Tool? Yeah.”
“Good. That song gets me hot.”
“Maybe I’ll sing it twice for you.” Mattie faked an orgasmic moan and planted a sloppy kiss on West’s lips. He pushed her off and swiped his arm across his mouth, shaking his head and trying not to smile.
Whispers Kill took the stage, to the delight of the crowd. Mattie felt a surge of pride when West’s fans started hollering his name, despite the fact that every voice was highly feminine.
Tysie joined Georgia. “I’ve never heard them sing together,” she said.
“Me neither.”
“And you’re married to West?”
“Yep. We really haven’t known each other all that long.”
A few seconds into West’s first song, Emeline and her greasy boyfriend sidled up to the table.
“Can I help you?” Mattie asked sweetly, only slurring her words a little. Tysie faked a coughing fit, gasping out whore behind her hand. Mattie bit back a squawk of laughter.
“Ha, funny,” Emeline said, scowling at Tysie. “I have to go make a phone call outside. Giovanni needs somewhere to hang where he won’t get bothered.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Mattie said. “I don’t think anybody’s going to be begging for an autograph.”
“Do you have to be so hateful?” Emeline whined.
“Hmm...let me think. Yes. Yes, I do.” The weasely cover-model-wanna-be patted Emeline on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll be just fine.” Mattie rolled her eyes at his terrible accent and turned away from him. West crooned on stage. Alcohol-addled, she couldn’t immediately place the song.
It finally hit her. “Duality,” originally by Slipknot. She sighed and leaned her head on Tysie’s shoulder. “He’s so hot, isn’t he?”
“West? For a guy, yeah, I guess.”
“You don’t like men at all? Wait, is that okay to ask you?”
“It’s okay for you to ask me. Men suck. And not in a good way.”
“West is gorgeous. He’s amazing.”
Tysie groaned. “I don’t see how you can trust him so much. I mean, he seems like a nice guy, but I don’t know how you trust him. Georgia told me about your sister and all.”
“I know, I know.” Mattie let her head drop to the table. She dragged her arm up on the table and rested her head on it. “Ouch!” She tilted her head and faced Georgia. “He’s really trying.”
Something cold and damp touched her bent elbow. She yelped and jerked upright. The room spun dangerously.
“I thought you might like a drink,” the greaseball said, with that lecherous grin. “You too, Tysie.”
With his fake accent, her name came out ‘Ty-Shee.’ It sent Mattie into paroxysm of giggles. “Ty-Shee,” she mimicked mercilessly. “Ty-shee.”
“She’s drunk,” Tysie muttered. “Hey, shut it, Mattie. That’s annoying.”
“Yes, my lovely Ty-Shee.” She grabbed the glass, pleased to see that it was a margarita. “Yo, thanks, cropduster.”
Tysie made a grab for the glass. “Uh-uh. West said no more.”
Mattie rolled her eyes. “One more ain’t going to make much difference, Ty-Shee.” She gulped half of it, wincing at the bite of tequila in the back of her throat.
“Quit, come on. You want to be conscious for whatever West has planned tonight, don’t ya?”
“Yep. Oh God, yeah. That man is heaven between the sheets. Maybe we’ll have sex on the beach. Oh, or not. Sand. Sand everywhere!” Mattie laughed at herself and laid her head back on her arm. “You know, we have this whole deal where we’re not going to get emotionally attached to one another.”
Tysie made a face at her in disbelief. “Why not? That is like the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”
“Tell me about it. We have it like that because we both know this isn’t a permanent thing. It’s a business arrangement. Neither one of us wants to deal with the messy stuff of breaking up and leaving and all.”
“Girl, it’s going to be messy. You’re honestly telling me you don’t feel anything for him, other than sexual attraction?”
Mattie moaned into her arm. “No. I feel everything for him. He’s such an amazing, hot, amazing guy. And he’s just so amazing. He’s handling it well, I guess. Emeline is still first thing on his mind half the time.”
“Bastard.” “Yep.” Mattie drained her drink. “I told him I wasn’t gonna drink much tonight.”
“Hey, if you have to deal with his Emeline-crap, then you deserve to drink as much as you want. I still can’t believe you give it to him even as he’s lusting after the whore.”
Mattie sighed. “At least he’s mine right then, ya know? I’m going to be the one he’s fuckin’ and it’s my name he’ll be hollering.”
“He hollers during sex?” Tysie dissolved in a fit of laughter. “I always figured him for the growling type.” She got an evil look in her sky-blue eyes.
“Hey, Em, is West a hollerer or a grunter?”
“He sings opera,” Emeline deadpanned as she returned to the table. She had a troubled look on her face. “He’s a growler.” Mattie smiled, imagining the thrill of sex with West. She shivered deliciously.
She grinned at Tysie. Nausea bubbled up. She choked back hot, bitter saliva. “Okay. I’m not feeling real good.” Mattie took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a second. The alcohol circulating in her system made the room feel like it was whipping around her in circles. She closed her eyes and focused on West crooning Rise Against’s “Roadside.” The man and his band were an endless trove of songs that showcased his amazing talents.
The sensation of being drunk got stronger and stronger. What was in that last drink? Holy crap! Even breathing was hard work.
“I gotta go...bathroom...” Tysie’s brows furrowed. “You okay? You look really pale.” “Don’t feel good.”
“Need some help?” Mattie shook her head and managed to push herself up and out of her chair. The room lurched to the right, then rocked to the left. She stumbled down the long dark hallway toward the bathroom, nearly crying from the weird weakness and dizziness that invaded her mind and body. Something wasn’t right. Just before things got really fuzzy and surreal, she wondered if that greaseball boyfriend of Emeline’s had put something in her drink.
Chapter Sixteen
West bounded off the stage into the small horde of people that loved his band. The girls didn’t care that he was dripping sweat when they practically tackled him for hugs and promised vaguely interesting sexual favors.
He only had eyes for one fan. Somebody shoved a cold bottle of beer into his hand. He twisted the cap off and guzzled most of it right away. Damn, it had been hot under the cheap spotlights shining down on the stage.
Flicking sweat-dampened hair out of his eyes, he made his way to the high table where Emeline stood, picking at a soggy beer bottle label.
“Where’s Mattie?” he asked.
“Bathroom. Said she wasn’t feeling well.”
West fingered the glass on the table. “How much more did she drink?”
“A few swallows out of that glass right there.”
“Well, has she been gone a while?” Emeline shrugged.
“Yeah, come to think of it.” Emeline cleared her throat. “Gio disappeared about the same time she did.”
West got up and headed for the bathroom. It wasn’t like Mattie to get sick from so few drinks. She could drink him under the table if she wanted to. Anxiety rippled through his gut, killing the natural high he got from performing. The feeling of something being wrong drove him forward.
Faintly over the music, he heard Georgia calling his name. She caught up with him, Tysie and Emeline on her tail. Tysie grabbed his arm. “I was right next to her in the hallway. I turned around to get help and she disappeared.”
He stared at the woman, not comprehending. “She what?”
Georgia pushed between them. “I’ll check the bathroom for you.”
She ducked in
to the ladies’ room and popped back out, shaking her head. “Nobody in there.” Really worried now, West poked his head in the men’s room, just in case she stumbled in there by mistake. Empty. “Oh my god!” Emeline shrieked. She stood in the doorway of the storage room, pointing. West pushed past her and froze. Her new boyfriend stood over Mattie’s prone body, buckling his pants. Mattie’s eyes were half- closed, and her hand was curled near her mouth. Resting on her stomach, her body had a strange, boneless look to it.
Her skirt was bunched around her thighs, and her fuchsia panties were a splash of color on the gray concrete floor.
Blinding rage enveloped West. He lost control and flung himself at the asshole. All he could think about, all he could do, was hurt the man. Break his too-pretty face. Make him sorry for touching his wife!
The pathetic blows the man managed to land on his face and chest didn’t even faze him. It wasn’t until Townsend and Rebel hauled him off the man that the fury that consumed him abated somewhat. Even their restraining hands didn’t stop him from lunging at the man as soon as he tried to get off the floor.
Townsend smacked him hard in the face. “Stop it, man! They already called the cops.” He and Rebel dragged West outside. Another couple of guys had Giovanni by the collar and tossed him off the porch. He hit the ground hard.
His face was a bloody, bruised mess. Blood dripped from his nose and lips. His perfect hair was mussed. Those sharp designer duds he had on were stained and ripped.
West wiped his own bleeding nose with his forearm, wincing at the shard of pain that ripped through his brain. The only punch the damn bastard had landed had hit his nose at just the right angle. If his schnoz wasn’t broken, it was pretty damn close.
The cops rolled up, lights blazing. A crowd had gathered on the porch. West tried to shove through the people to get back to Mattie, but out of nowhere a cop tackled him and knocked him to the ground.
“Stop resisting!” The butch female cop wrenched his arms high behind his back. West cried out in pain.
“I’m not, damn it!”
“I said stop. I’m going to pepper-spray you! I’m warning you! You want a taste of my taser? Huh? Huh?”
“I’m not resisting you!” West felt her snap the cuffs on his wrist, much too tightly. She tried to haul him to his feet, but against his stocky five-foot-ten-and-change stature, the just-topping-five- two-woman didn’t have any leverage. She’d watched The Heat a few too many times.
“If you’ll give me a chance,” West said over his shoulder, “I can stand up.”
The female cop glared at him but stopped yanking and tugging his arms. They already felt dislocated. West got to his feet. “Somebody needs to check on my wife. That bastard over there drugged her.”
The mind-deadening rage overcame him again and as he hurtled toward Giovanni—who was being helped up and pampered by the other cop, also a female—a little voice in his head was screaming for him to stop.
But his body was on a collision course, head-first, for the prick. He slammed into him, knocking him down. Rebel and Townsend reacted lightning fast, yanking him off. They threw him to the ground, where he landed on his back, painfully wrenching his arms.
Two guns and a taser were aimed at him, and the brilliant beam of a flashlight blinded him. The Melissa-McCarthy-wanna-be-female cop’s backup, a huge burly black cop and an equally burly white cop, hustled Rebel and Townsend away. Lightning quick, one of the men flipped him over his back and pinned him in the dirt with a knee on his back, digging into spine.
The cop jerked West to his feet and shoved him into the backseat of a cop car. “We’ll talk to you when you calm down,” he grunted, slamming the door.
“He tried to rape my wife!” West shouted through the door. He slammed his shoulder against it a couple of times before the pain slowed him down some. His tirade of curses and insults stopped when he watched an ambulance pull into the parking lot. His heart stopped when the paramedics cleared a path through the crowd on the porch and went inside. A few moments later they emerged with Mattie on the stretcher. Georgia was right behind them.
She ran over to the nearest cop, talking and pointing at Mattie excitedly, then at West in the car, then at Giovanni. West leaned his head on the window and watched them load Mattie into the ambulance.
“I gotta go with her!” he hollered even though he knew nobody was paying any attention to him. He bounced up and down in the seat. The car shook. “Let me go with her. That’s my wife!”
Georgia nodded at something the cops said and then ran for the ambulance. The paramedic held the door open for her, shutting it after she clambered in. At least she would have a friend with her. Somebody that cared about her.
Watching through the window, West saw one of the burly cops cuffing Giovanni and putting him in the other police car. He yelled, “Good, you fuckin’ bastard! You deserve it.”
The butch female officer approached the car. She opened the door. “Are you going to behave, Mr. West?”
“Is my wife okay? I’m going to kill that damn prick. I’m gonna kill him.” Tears choked West up.
He ground his teeth until the urge to cry passed. The cop gestured for him to slide out of the car. “I’ll take those cuffs off, but you have to promise me that you’ll let me do my job concerning Mr. Jones.”
“Jones?”
“Carl Jones. That’s his real name. He’s not Italian, and his name isn’t Giovanni. Are you going to be a good boy?”
West took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. I won’t touch him.”
The cop introduced herself as Deputy Thomas as she took the cuffs off. “Mr. Jones there slipped some GHB into your wife’s drink. We found the vial still in his pocket. He says he didn’t touch her, it was all a trick to get you to break up with her.”
“What? I don’t even know him.”
“His girlfriend is your sister-in-law, correct?”
“Shit, yeah. Emeline wouldn’t have anything to do with this. Her and Mattie fight like cats and dogs, but she wouldn’t do anything to actually hurt Mattie.”
“I don’t know, Mr. West. Jones insists she didn’t have anything to do with it, but she’s no where to be found.”
“Emeline wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t hurt me like that. She knows how things are, and she wouldn’t do that to me.” Not Emeline. No way. Maybe Giovanni—or Jones, whatever his name was—has taken something she said too literally. Emeline wasn’t capable of something so evil.
Had to be Justine’s doing.
West ran his hand through his hair. “Where’re they taking Mattie?”
“Flagler Memorial. We need to get a statement from you.”
“I came back to the table, went to look for Mattie, and saw him standing over her. I don’t remember too much after that. Everything sort of went black and red. My friends dragged me outside and you saw all the rest. Is Mattie all right?”
“The paramedics took her because it looked like she was having a little trouble breathing.”
“Can I go now? I have to go see about my wife.”
***
Georgia met him in the emergency room. “They kicked me out because I’m not family. I didn’t think about lying until it was too late.” She rolled her eyes. “You all right? You should go wash some of that blood off your face.”
“I don’t care about it right now. I just need to find out about Mattie.”
“She’s doing okay. She’s asleep or whatever it is the drug makes her do. They’re watching her because of something about respiratory problems caused by whatever he gave her.”
“Thanks, G. You better go find Tysie. Rebel’s outside, so he can give you a ride back.”
“How’re you going to get back to the bar to get your truck?”
“I’ll figure something out.” Georgia slugged his shoulder. “I’m going to go check on Rebel, but we’re going to hang out.”
“Yeah, okay.”
The nurse at the desk led him through a maze
of hallways to a tiny room deep in the bowels of the hospital. Mattie lay on the bed with an oxygen mask over her face and an IV in her arm. Her eyes were still half-open. Once in a while she would blink.
The doctor popped in just as West got into the room. “Mr. West?”
“Yeah. Is she okay?”
“She will be. The combination of alcohol and GHB can be fatal if the dose is too high, but she got lucky. Even though the guy who doped her up probably has experience doing this kind of thing, he gave her a bit too much. We really just want to watch her to make sure she doesn’t go into respiratory distress. You look like you need some medical attention, though, Mr. West. Your nose and your hand look like they’re in bad shape.”
“I don’t care. I don’t even feel ‘em.”
“Yet. It’s all the adrenaline. Once it wears off in about half an hour, you’ll be hurting something fierce.”
West liked this doctor, with his open manner and blunt speech. “Did he...did he touch her?”
“No. We didn’t find any evidence of sexual intercourse. No bruising or fluids. You must have interrupted him.”
Or Emeline planned it all. No way. She just wouldn’t do that. Then why are you doubting it?
Had to be Justine. Emeline was a rotten brat, but she wasn’t this malicious.
“Come on now, Mr. West. Let me take a look at you.”
West sighed and gave in, but only on the condition that a security guard stayed outside Mattie’s room.
A series of x-rays later determined that while his nose was fractured, his hand wasn’t. The nurse cleaned the abrasions and gashes on his knuckles and gave him a big bag of ice for his hand. She brought him a fact sheet about GHB and other date-rape drugs.
He washed his face in the bathroom, wincing at the nasty bruises already forming in black beneath his eyes. The nurse gave him a chemical cold pack for his nose. “Won’t hurt so bad resting on it,” she explained. She watched him adjust it. “Those bruises on her torso and face--“
