Stepbrother Hangover

by Stephanie Brother

  © 2015 Stephanie Brother

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

  Kindle Edition

  Stepbrother Hangover

  by Stephanie Brother

  Oh Christ, who turned on the lights? I groaned and shoved my head under the pillow. I tried to shut out the light and the sounds of people in the hallway but it was no use. I was going to have to face the fact that I was awake.

  My head was pounding, my stomach churned.

  What the hell had I been drinking last night? Or, possibly more importantly, how much of it was I drinking last night?

  I rolled across the big bed to the edge. It took all the energy I could gather into my muscles to get that far, so I hung there just balanced on the edge staring at the floor waiting for the room to stop spinning.

  When I was reasonably sure I wasn't going to hurl on the carpet, I let on leg drop to the ground. I waited to make sure that leg was going to stay put and then I swung the other one down and let the weight of my legs drag my body upward into a slouchy-- but sitting-- position.

  I hung my head down and rested my forehead on my knees.

  I was still wearing one of my thigh high white stockings and the little floating crystal necklace that Tammy had given us for the ceremony. Beyond that, I was naked as the day I was born.

  A familiar soreness in some sensitive places begging the question of who had I been drinking with?

  Ugh. I staggered to my feet by the sheer force of will and began my way to the bathroom, my legs feeling rubbery and stiff from what I suspected must have been some gymnastic feats the night before.

  The curtains to the big window were left open, looking out onto the Strip from the 12th floor. All those people outside, walking, laughing and drinking. The clock on the bedside stand said 11:24.

  The room was a pretty generic single. Your standard Las Vegas casino tower hotel room. Pricey though-- my baby sister was not about to have some cheap Vegas wedding. She was all about spending Daddy's money on the real deal. The 12th and 14th floors had been reserved for family and the wedding party-- both floors because little sis was only going to accept a Strip view for her nearest and dearest.

  I looked around at the King size bed, the little writing nook in the far corner near the big picture window. My other stocking lay casually draped across the back of the desk chair. One of my silver pumps was by the door, the other no where in sight. A crumpled puddle of navy blue fabric lay discarded on the floor near the corner of the bed.

  Worry about it later. Shower now. The light in the bathroom was too bright. I opted to leave the door open and let some of the light from the main room dimly illuminate the bathroom.

  When I was satisfied that the bathroom was sufficiently filled with billowing steam, I awkwardly raised each leg over the edge of the bathtub and stood under the running water, hoping that the heat would sooth my spinning head while washing away the tell tale traces of last night's antics.

  As I held my head under the hot water, I tried to gather the remnants of everything that had happened after Baby Sis said "I do."

  Even if I didn't actually remember the sex, there was no denying it had happened. My pussy felt like I'd taken on the entire troop of male strippers that Tammy had insisted we go see as part of her bachelorette party and my calves and thighs burned with a soreness that I hadn't felt since Lisa had talked me into running that half marathon last year.

  I reached for the shampoo bottle I'd left in the shower and discovered that Housekeeping must have moved it back to the sink counter while I was out of the room for the wedding yesterday. They'd been doing that all week and I still hadn't gotten in the habit of grabbing it before I got in the shower. Today was certainly no exception, looking for my shampoo bottle was the last thing on my mind when I climbed into the blissful steamy water.

  I settled for scrubbing away my sins with the tiny square bar of complimentary hotel soap and half ounce bottle of shampoo that was thoughtfully left on the edge of the tub each day.

  I hadn't brushed my hair out before climbing under the water either and using the hotel shampoo that was probably the equivalent of dish soap with no conditioner was sure to provide me with hours of careful detangling.

  I turned off the water and wrapped one of the fluffy white towels around my tangled masses. I grabbed another towel and stepped gingerly out of the tub onto the cold tile floor and started drying off.

  I made my way to the sink and grabbed for my toothbrush.

  That's when things started coming into focus.

  My toothbrush wasn't on the sink counter where I'd left it. Looking around, I didn't see my shampoo bottle, or my make up bag, or anything that should have been on the counter by the sink.

  I did find a toothbrush. And a razor. And some aftershave.

  Slowly, my alcohol-addled brain started to piece together the puzzle. I turned and looked around the hotel room. It looked exactly like the one I'd been living in for the last 5 days. Looking back at the items on the counter, however, I was beginning to suspect that it also looked like every other hotel room in this tower.

  Shit. Where the fuck am I? Suddenly I felt vulnerable. Wrapping the towel tighter around me, I ran to grab the discarded clothing items that were strewn across the room. I picked up the dark blue bride's maid dress and tried to shimmy back into it, only to discover a long tear that started at the seam just under the bodice and continued almost to the hem.

  Shit. I could not walk down the hall with everything from my navel to my ankles on display. It wouldn't matter anyway, I soon discovered the zipper was a complete loss having gotten stuck somewhere in mid-lowering, the entire seem had been destroyed.

  Apparently it had been a matter of great urgency to get out of that crepe prison.

  I blushed at the thought of some strange man being so frantic to get at my naked skin that he would tear through a $450 dress like tissue paper.

  Then I blushed at the idea that I might be so frantic to have some stranger get at my naked skin that I would let him tear though a $450 dress. Oh god. What if I'd been the one who was frantic to get naked? What if it had been me who dug my newly manicured nails through the thin fabric and left what used to be a dress laying in a heap on a strange hotel room floor?

  I couldn't imagine myself being so exuberant. I blushed harder, the heat from the rising blood making my head pound even harder.

  I couldn't put the dress back on. It was little more than a fancy handkerchief at this point.

  I looked around like a cornered animal. I was alone in a stranger's hotel room. I had no idea who I had spent the night with, where he was now, or when he might be back. It was suddenly very important that I make my escape back to my own room.

  Opening the closet doors revealed neatly hung rows of mens' clothing. Crisp button down shirts, several t-shirts, creased khakis, dark suit pants, a tuxedo jacket. On the top shelf I found a few pairs of neatly folded blue jeans. I grabbed a pair and began shimmying in to them, hoping they would fit over my hips.

  Breathing a sigh of relief as the coarse fabric slid up to my waist, I zipped the fly and grabbed a t-shirt.

  Picking up my shoes and what was left of the dress, I made my escape. Looking up and down the hall before ducking out of the room, I closed
the door firmly behind me and began searching for the elevators.

  Safely back on the twelfth floor I was standing in front of my own room door before I realized I didn't have my key.

  I thoroughly patted down the remains of the dress. I leaned my head against the door and tried to recall what I might have done with it.

  After the wedding, we had the reception. Think, Denise, think! I banged my head lightly against the door with my efforts, desperately wishing I'd taken Lisa up on her offer to share a room.

  I'd had my room key and my lip gloss with me a the reception. I'd had both of them tucked away inside my-- I reached into the bodice of the dress. A tiny little slip of fabric had been conveniently sewn across the cleavage just for the purpose of stashing tiny items-- like a room key-- so I wouldn't have to carry a purse.

  Naturally the secret pocket was empty. Leaving me to suspect that my missing key might be locked in Mystery Man's hotel room upstairs.

  My cell phone was on the charger inside my room. There was nothing I could do but begin my walk of shame to the lobby to get another key.

  I thought invisible thoughts as I snuck out of the elevator, across the casino floor to the front desk. Thankfully the desk clerk wasn't busy and being Las Vegas, no one seemed to notice the barefoot woman with the damp, uncombed hair in the middle of the lobby.

  Also, being Las Vegas, I had very little hassle from the smirking young man behind the desk about my predicament and in surprisingly little time I was punching the "12" button in the elevator, my new card key securely in hand.

  As the elevator doors slid together in front of me, I saw Kyle crossing the lobby floor toward me. Carrying two coffees and a bag that most certainly contained breakfast for two, my stepbrother caught my eye and smiled warmly lifting the bag in his hand in a gesture that suggested he wanted me to hold the carriage for him.

  Like I was about to hit the "open door" button so Kyle could give me hell about how I looked, or interrogate me about a night I don't remember. I wondered who he had hooked up with, some lucky girl who was about to get the full Kyle Robertson treatment.

  I shrugged at my stepbrother as if to apologize for not being able to hold the elevator for him and let the doors close in front of me while he was still several feet away.

  I sighed wistfully.

  There had been a time when I would have done anything for that man.

  Safely back in my own room, I immediately grabbed my phone and called Lisa without even bothering to check messages.

  "Lisa! Ohmygod, where are you?" I practically screamed as soon as she answered the phone.

  I could hear the cacophony of the casino floor in the background as she laughing and yelled into the microphone, "Dee? Where the hell have you been?"

  "It's a long story, Leese. Please stop shouting. And turn down the volume on the casino."

  Lisa laughed even louder, "Ohhh, you must be feeling reeeal good this morning! Who is he?"

  "I have no fucking clue. Where are you? I need food."

  We agreed to meet at little coffee place hidden somewhere in the bowels of the casino mall as soon as I had a chance to work a bottle of conditioner through my hair and get into my own clothes.

  I started working on the tangles, attacking each knotted strand with my comb. That's when I noticed it. I got it caught in my hair and ended up with a small bald spot above my ear before I got it free.

  I stared at my left hand like it belonged to someone else. Hell, for all I know, it did belong to someone else. It had to belong to someone else! Oh dear lord! Please let it belong to someone else.

  The ring was really pretty. The center stone must have been at least 2 carats, with tons of little diamonds cascading down from the center till they disappeared into a thick band of... well, something that looked like platinum. Who knows what the thing was made out of?

  It must have come from some chintzy little street cart on the strip, I'd seen lots of them over the last few days, tucked into corners selling cheap costume jewelry designed to make Zsa Zsa Gabor look subdued.

  This ring didn't look that cheap and it was certainly my style-- maybe a little gratuitous on that center stone-- but I liked it a lot.

  Just one thing: who bought it? OK, two things: Who bought it and why was I wearing it?

  The nauseating realization that this was, after all, Las Vegas, crept into my churning stomach with the remnants of whatever I'd been drinking last night. It suddenly seemed much more important that I find out who I'd spent the night with.

  I ran out of my room with my hair combed but still wet, at least I was back in my own jeans!

  I slid into the seat across from Lisa with an iced latte and a grilled chicken panini. I started picking at my food while Lisa gave me a glare that foretold the the interrogation I was about to undergo.

  "Good grief but you look like shit!" She began, then added a devilish wink and, "but you're also glowing. Who was he? Tell me everything!"

  My best friend in the entire world since the 8th grade leaned back against the padded back of the bench seat on her side of the table, drumming her acrylic nails on the tabletop and waiting for the juicy details.

  "I have no fucking clue." I mumbled through a mouthful of grilled bread.

  "Excuse me?" She pulled herself back to attention at the edge of the table, "Did you just say you don't know who you were fucking all night?"

  I tore off another bite of sandwich and chewed eagerly. The movement of my jaw jack hammered through my skull, but it felt so good to get some solid food into my stomach I couldn't worry about the headache.

  I nodded affirmatively in response to Lisa's inquiry.

  "But you were up all night fucking somebody, right?"

  I couldn't tell from her tone of voice if she was suggesting that I had better have been, or if she was asking in earnest. I nodded again.

  Lisa waited for me to swallow and take a sip of the icy, caffeinated latte, "Pretty sure, yup." I confessed when my mouth was clear. "I'm sore."

  I leaned across the table and tried to whisper so only Lisa could hear, "Like I was fucking a horse--"

  Lisa didn't give me time to finish, she raised her hands toward the ceiling and let out a loud, "Hallelujah!" Then she attempted to give me a congratulatory high-five.

  I left her hand hanging in mid-air while I took another bit of the sandwich, "Shut up, please."

  She sighed deeply and let her shoulders slump, dropping her hands into her lap, "Oh fine then. Spoiled sport." She gave me her best disappointed pout, "Spill what you remember then."

  I held my left hand up with my palm facing back at myself and watched her eyes grow to a creepy anime-esque size as she focused on the ring.

  "Holy shit, Denise!" She squealed as she grabbed my hand and pulled me across the table toward her. "Where the hell did you get this?"

  I shrugged.

  "Leese, I have no idea. I don't know who I was with last night, I don't know exactly what I did, and I don't know where the ring came from...or what it means."

  Lisa looked at the ring carefully and finally back up at me, this time with some genuine seriousness, "Dee, when you wake up in Vegas with a ring on your finger...." her voice trailed off, letting me draw my own conclusions.

  I nodded again. "I know." I pulled my hand back to my side of the table and took another look at it myself. The more I looked at it, the less it looked like costume jewelry, "I know." I said again, "That's why you have to help me figure out what happened last night. I have to find out who I was with."

  Lisa was grinning at me, "Uh huh-- because of the ring. Sure. Yeah. Riiiight." Her head was bobbing up and down in a sarcastic nod, "Or because you want another ride on that horse?"

  Ordinarily I would have caved in by now and started laughing but my head still felt like shit-- although my stomach was feeling less queasy-- and the alcohol-induced amnesia had made me forget my sense of humor too.

  I looked down at my phone laying on the table to check the time and noticed I ha
d a missed call. Kyle. I didn't even know I had his number saved in my contacts, what could he possibly want? It was almost noon.

  "Lisa, are you going to help me or not? I have to figure this out before the family dinner tonight or I may not have a chance at all. You know I fly out in the morning."

  Lisa rolled her eyes at my lack of humor and relented, "OK. But you know you could always just check with Public Records to see if your name is on a marriage license. I think they still give you like 2 weeks or something to annul it, don't they?"

  I gave her my best death glare. "You are not taking this seriously."

  "No, Dee, I'm taking it very seriously." She finished her drink and switched to her accountant voice, "If you did, indeed, get blackout drunk and get yourself hitched to a stranger in the middle of the night, you might never find out who it was or how to contact him. Public Records is the best way to take care of it. There's nothing you can do about it right now and you have less than 24 hours left of your stay in Vegas. Just chill out and have fun."