Sundays are for Hangovers

by J. D. Hollyfield

  I do a little swirl and skip up my steps. I wave at the birds chirping on the hanging bird feeder and hum my way into my house and into the shower. I know, I sound like a real-life Cinderella singing and dancing my way to my very own happily ever after. But, as the story says, if the shoe fits.

  This week has been like no other. Amazing. Unreal. Perfect. Pick a word, they all fit the bill when it comes to Will. I sometimes stop and take a few moments to admire just how wonderful he is. How lucky I am to have him. He’s proven over and over that he doesn’t care about my background. He couldn’t care less about money. He’s proven he’s not intimidated by my family and he’s stated in many forms there’s nothing that will stop him from wanting me.

  And boy does he.

  In those moments, I take him in. His smile, his nerdy black frames that turn me on like no other. The way he loves his psycho cat. I watch him in the morning when he sips his coffee and reads the paper, being so interested in the world around him. One would say he’s a bit overdramatic about the rules of society. I would have said the same just a short month ago. But the way Will wants to make things better is actually inspiring.

  He explained it wasn’t him being anal, it was him wanting to keep others safe. That sometimes the ones who do the most harm don’t realize their faults. How everyone needs someone looking out for them. He simply wanted to, in some way, pay it forward. I asked who his savior was and joked around on what he could have possibly done that was so naughty. I caught the quick expression change, but he said his grandma was his angel. He said his naughty confession was what he was about to do to me. That’s when he tackled me and fucked me so hard, I forgot what we were even talking about.

  Being apart while we’re at work sucks. Not that I don’t feel like he’s with me, since he calls every morning on his way to work to smooth talk our listeners. On Monday, he called in telling our listeners about his weekend. Of course, everything he said had them eating out of the palm of his hand. I seriously thought Leon was going to start sending him a paycheck. When he called on Tuesday, he asked our listeners how women felt about being serenaded to. Our polls said that ninety-two percent would fall head over heels for a guy who sang to her. So, come Wednesday, when he called to thank the listeners, he went on to say how he came home and made his neighbor caccavelle alla sorrentina, a homemade Italian pasta dish, with shredded parmesan and fresh tomato basil sauce. He told them how he sang an Italian love song to her while they ate under the moonlight. I laughed the entire time because he made me steak.

  Him and his goddamn steak.

  It’s now Thursday, which I normally have off, but we have an upcoming band in for an interview, and D and I have to take them out afterward and show them a good time. I’m running through my house while undressing, knowing every second counts. I make it to my shower and turn the water on hot, when two hands grab me, and I scream bloody murder.

  “Jesus, it’s just me.” Will laughs, holding me.

  “What the hell? You almost gave me a heart attack! Why are you here? You’re just as late!”

  He seems not to care. He starts undressing and once we’re both fully naked, he climbs into my shower with me.

  “Will, we’re both gonna be late,” I say as the warm water hits my back. His hands are up my ribcage, one disappearing behind me and grabbing my butt cheek.

  “Maybe I want you to be late. Maybe they’ll fire you and you don’t have to dangle this hot body in front of rockers when you’re already taken.”

  I laugh against his lips that are now on mine, kissing me. I forget I have only thirteen minutes until I need to be speeding like a crazy person to work as I allow him to press my back against the cool tile and grind his yummy hard dick against my clit.

  “I have to. It’s my job. Plus, they’re harmless. I was told they all have wives.”

  He presses me harder against the tile, maneuvering himself so he’s right at my entrance. “I don’t give a fuck about their wives. This pussy is mine and only mine. I don’t even want them fantasizing about it.” He then pushes inside me, and all thoughts of work and the eleven-minute warning go out the window as I meow like a cat in heat during my entire shower orgasm.

  “And there you have it, folks, Kev from Love Drug. Make sure to check ’em out tomorrow night at Mandarin’s. They’ll be playing a full set, along with some extra bootleg tracks.” Daryl presses some sound effect drums and clicks off air just as I barrel through the door.

  “I’m soooo sorry,” I whisper, throwing myself into my seat. I wave at the band, who’s already up and leaving.

  “Shit, what’d I miss? Is Leon in? How much trouble am I in?” I throw my headphones on and turn to the clock to see we have thirty seconds before we’re back on air.

  “Lil, you are lucky I love your bunk ass. He called in. Blew a tire. I told him you were takin’ a shit.”

  I scowl at him because ew!

  “I’ll take that look as a thank you. But, girl, you need to get your shit together. I ain’t gonna keep covering for you. And this is the last time you blow me off. First it was for Taco Tuesday. I had to sit there and listen to Manny cry on my shoulder because he thinks you don’t like him anymore. Then yesterday for the bowling. I only joined that shit ’cause of you.”

  “I’m sorry. And thank you. I’ve just been…preoccupied lately.”

  “You mean too busy riding Mr. Wonka’s big wonka?”

  Daryl laughs as I pick up a pen and toss it across the desk.

  “That’s not it. Well, it is, but…shit, I was totally late today because I was riding the big wonka.” Dammit. I really need to do better with self-control in the mornings.

  The light starts flashing that we have five seconds.

  Four.

  Three.

  Two.

  “And rise and shine, Morristown. Thanks for listening. Your support earns us our paychecks,” I chirp.

  “And half-off drinks at Mandarin’s tonight on Fifty-Ninth Street. That’s where you can find Lil and me, along with Love Drug. Looks like everyone should be having a smooth commute today. Let’s hit the lines and see how it is out there. Hello, caller, you’re on the air.”

  “Hey, Big D. It’s Mr. Wonka.”

  Daryl’s eyebrows go up at me, and I silently threaten to throw another pen at his head.

  “Morning, Mr. Wonka. What updates you got for us today?” I shake my head but tune in to him because I’m also curious what stunt he’s gonna pull today.

  “Big D, I was hoping I could get personal with you. I’m having a problem with my cat. Can we talk pets for a moment?”

  Daryl’s brows go up, confused, whereas mine crinkle. “Wonka, I’m not sure listeners want to hear about your feline problems,” I say, secretly telling him he better not dare.

  “I don’t know. I feel like they could really help me out. You see, I have this cat. She’s a feisty little thing. Meowed all morning in the shower.” Oh, here we go. “So needy. Always wanting to be petted.”

  Oh, give me a break. “Sounds like you need to get your cat in check, dawg,” Daryl says, laughing as he slowly catches on.

  “I agree. You see, she loves going out. Little thing loves to roam around at night. Makes me a not-so-happy owner. I get jealous. I don’t want anyone else petting my kitty.”

  Daryl laughs more and begins to play meowing sound effects. “Maybe you need to be sterner with her. Have you thought about caging her?”

  Give me a flipping—

  “I have actually. I’ve spanked her many times, telling her to stay inside. Her favorite place is my bedroom anyway. No need to ever leave. But she just doesn’t listen.”

  “Wonka, maybe you should trust that your cat’s simply going out and being a cat. She always comes home to you.”

  “You think? It’s just that, I think she’s in heat. This morning, while in the shower, she scratched down my back pretty good.”

  “I did—I mean, I doubt that. Cats don’t even like water.” Shit, I almost busted m
yself out.

  “Well, this cat, she’s different. She has this spunk about her. She’s not like any other cat. And I just want to keep her all for myself.”

  My heart warms at his comment. My annoyance at his daily stunt turns into softness from his sweet underlying comment.

  “Well, Wonka, maybe you should just wait your sweet rump at home for your cat to come back and if you’re lucky maybe she’ll purr in such delight it wakes the neighbors.”

  Will laughs. “I hope so, because she sure is something special.”

  “I will! Rock on brother man!” I laugh and point to Kev as I exit Mandarin’s and allow the door behind me to slam. I look at my phone in search of the Uber app. I didn’t plan on drinking enough not to drive, but damn those rockers sure put the pressure on. Not to mention, Betsy the bartender, makes a mean dirty martini. I’m digging through my purse for my keys to make sure my car’s locked when my phone buzzes. It’s a text from Will.

  Wonka: When are you coming home? I have a cage and a whip ready to do some major spanking to that pussy.

  I blush like a school girl at his racy text. Never in a million years would I have pegged my nerdy, anal neighbor as a dirty talker. I shoot off a quick text back.

  Me: I’m coming right meow. Waiting on Uber.

  My stomach does a bunch of summersaults at what I can possibly expect once I get home. I’m crossing my fingers and toes that Will is super strict and disciplines this kitty for being so late. My thighs squeeze together in anticipation. I check my phone to see where my driver is, when a call comes through. It’s my father.

  Not sure why he’s calling this late, but I decide to ignore it. Going back to my app, I wait for it to update, when my father calls in again.

  “Seriously, what gives?” I swipe the call and answer. “Hello, dearest Father, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

  “Lilith.”

  “That’s my name. Don’t wear it out or you’re gonna have to buy a new one!” Okay, maybe I had one too many of Betsy’s martinis.

  “Lilith, good God. Have you been drinking?”

  That’s an understatement.

  “I was at a club social, Daddy. Is there a reason you’re ringing me at such an hour?”

  “Yes. I need you to come to the house.”

  “Great, I’ll see if I can find some time this weekend—”

  “Now, Lilith. It cannot wait.”

  I pull my phone away to look at the time. It’s almost midnight. “Daddy, it’s a little late. Plus, I can’t drive. I’ll come by—”

  “There’s a car coming to pick you up.” And just like that a black town car pulls around the corner.

  “What? How did you know where I was?”

  “For God’s sake, Lilith, you’re my daughter. I always know where you are.”

  That comment drowns the good mood I was in. “Well, I also told you now’s not a good time. I’ll come by when I—”

  “Get in the car, Lilith. You will regret it if you don’t.” And then the line goes dead.

  The car pulls up to me and a gentleman gets out and opens the door for me. With a huge scowl on my face, I give in and get in. I know I could fight my father on this, but maybe it’s better to just get it over with. Tell him he has no control over me and be done.

  Since the dinner, I’ve had a lot of time to think. And being with Will, it’s made me realize my father truly has no hold over me. I don’t need his money or his name. I would be just as happy living off ramen and Will’s smile just as much as if I were swimming in riches. The thing I realized is you can’t put a price tag on what Will and I have. Because it truly is priceless.

  I’m done letting my father control me. He can take everything away from me, and I’m willing to accept that. If he turns his back on his only daughter, then that’s something he’ll also have to live with. But me? I’ll still have Will. I’ll still be myself. I’ll have my freedom.

  I spend the drive practicing the speech I’m going to give my father. I send off a text to Will, telling him his naughty kitty is going to be late, that I must make a pit stop, but be ready. I am ready to be punished for my tardiness.

  By the time we reach my parents’ estate, my buzz has worn off and I just want to get this over with so I can head back home to Will. Simmons, our butler, greets me as I hop up the royal palace stairs in front of their home.

  “What’s shakin’ Simmons?” I ask and high five him. Simmons is old and on the verge of retiring, but my parents swear he has a lifetime left in him.

  “Not much, Miss Lilith. I am to let you know your father is in his study.”

  “Thanks!” I say as I walk through the marble-floored foyer and down the hall to my father’s study.

  The door is open a crack. I knock and open it, walking in to find him at his desk.

  “Let’s make this fast. I have plans. Actually, I’ll start. You are not going to control—”

  “Sit down,” my father snaps, cutting off my rehearsed speech.

  “No. I’m not going to be your little—”

  “SIT. DOWN,” he barks and down I go.

  “Why am I here, Daddy? This could have waited until normal hours. And to be honest, I don’t care what you have to say. I’ve made up my mind. This is my life. I’m staying in Morristown. I’m staying with Will.”

  My father stands, his large frame dominating the room. “I always knew obedience was something you lacked. All the tutors in the world couldn’t teach you proper manners.”

  I feel like he just slapped me with his insult. I open my mouth to argue back, but his hand goes up.

  “I’ve tried to give you everything you wanted. I allowed this silly sabbatical to happen. But it’s gone too far. You think you know everything. So smart, my naïve daughter.”

  That’s it. I rise hastily from my chair. “You know what? No, I don’t have to sit through this.”

  That’s when he tosses a folder at me. It slings across his desk and I catch it before it slides off and the insides spill to the ground. “What is this?”

  “It’s why you’re done playing this little game. It’s why you’re not mature enough to keep this family name clean. You think I’ve worked this hard for you to lose your way and tarnish the Hamilton name?”

  “What are you talking about? I’ve done nothing to tarnish this family! This isn’t about me. This is about you and your obsession to control people. I’m not some employee you can boss around. I’m your daughter.”

  “Yes, and I’m the only one it seems who has your best interests in mind.”

  “Oh, and how is that so?”

  “Open the folder.”

  I forgot I was even holding it. With a huff, I pull my searing eyes away from my father and open the file. Confused about what I’m seeing at first, it takes a moment or two for it to register.

  “Wha—what is all this?”

  “Information I’m sure your little boyfriend failed to mention.”

  I flip through the corresponding documents. They seem to be investigation findings from a private investigator.

  Investigation Report

  Consensus: Report states, twenty-year-old William A. Grant was arrested for suspicion of arson after setting fire to the home of Barbara Grant. Grant was booked for arson, along with being under the influence of illegal drugs. Grant has a long list of priors, all drug related.

  “What is this? Where did you get this?” I flip the page to another report. These aren’t official reports but those compiled by a private investigator. I question the validity but keep reading.

  William Grant was under the influence of illegal drugs. His system was positive for marijuana and Vicodin. He was admitted for a thirty-day treatment as ordered by the court.

  “This isn’t true.”

  “Reports don’t lie, Lilith.”

  “Well, you could have easily forged these! They’re not official reports, Daddy. You would do anything to get me home and married off under your control.”

 
; “That might be true, but it doesn’t change the fact your boyfriend is a criminal—”

  “He’s not a criminal! Why are you doing this?” I tear my eyes away from the horrible things I’m reading and stare back at my father.

  “Because you are blinded, child. You are seeing a man who is not a good man. He’s going to ruin you and this family’s good name.”

  “He is a good man, Daddy.”

  “Then keep reading.”

  My heart plummets at those three words. Will mentioned he used to be a bad boy. A loser. But this was not what I had imagined when he used those words. I turn the page again to see an article from the Morristown Gazette with a photo attached. It’s of Will and a woman. The woman from Sunday. My heart plummets even more.

  “Gerald and Caroline Campbell of Morristown, New Jersey, are pleased to announce the engagement of their daughter, Presley Elizabeth Campbell, to William A. Grant, grandson of Barbara Grant of Morristown. William A. Grant is an internal bank auditor at Huffington Bank and Trust. An October wedding is planned.”

  “He was engaged?”

  “I assume he never mentioned that one.”

  I lift my eyes and give my father a hateful stare. “This doesn’t mean anything. His past is his past. It has no bearing on the present.”

  “Flip to the next page, Lilith.”

  No, I don’t want to. My father holds my stare until I buckle and flip the page. It’s another sketchy report from the investigator. The title, in bold, reads:

  Wedding Called off Due to Groom’s Scam

  Information leading up to the Campbell/Grant wedding provides detailed evidence that the relationship was a farce and the groom was in it for the money. Sources close to Grant confess he admitted he searched out the bride, knowing the extent of wealth he would gain by marrying the young debutante.

  As I read through the report, tears start to fall down my face. Every word that’s printed sends an aching pain to my chest. “Where did you get this?” I lift my gaze to my father. He doesn’t respond. Instead, he picks up his crystal glass filled with bourbon and takes a hefty sip. “I asked you where you got this.” My hands shake as emotions threaten to overtake me.