by Emerson Rose
I can’t help it. I hate to cry but, the tears spring from my eyes and I start to sob. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I fall against his chest, and his tight muscles relax. He rubs my back and says soothing things to me that I can’t decipher through my crying.
The crying brings my nausea back to the forefront of my current situation. I stand up, turn around, and throw up in the toilet with my pants around my knees and Ash’s arms holding me steady.
If I weren’t smashed, I’d be mortified, but for now being inebriated is working to my benefit. I have no shame when Ash turns me around, works my jeans back up over my thighs, and washes my mouth off with a paper towel.
“Do you think you can make it to the car without another go around?”
He’s holding me in his arms ready to carry me to the car. I look up and him with my face still plastered against his chest and shrug. I still feel like crap, and I can’t guarantee I’m done being sick.
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” he mumbles. I close my eyes when he walks through the bar, not because I’m embarrassed, because I’m dizzy as hell and it helps to close my eyes.
“She comes in here again, you are not to serve her, got it?” I hear him say to Gus on our way out.
“Sure thing, Mr. Pride.”
Outside the bar, the air is cool and clean. There's no smoke, no stale stench of vomit or alcohol. I breathe deep and say a prayer that Cannon is asleep when we get into the car. I open one eye and watch the blurry driver open the door to the limo.
Cannon bursts out of the car yelling of course, “Tella! Daddy, why you got Tella like that?”
“She’s sick, buddy, scoot over so I can get her inside,” Ash says.
I feel the soft leather of the seat against my back and open my eyes to Cannon a mere foot from my face, checking me over like his daddy just did a few minutes ago.
“You’re sick?” he asks, justifiably suspicious of his father’s excuse. He just saw me get carried out of a bar and I stink of booze, cigarettes, and puke.
“Too much to drink, sorry, buddy, I do stupid stuff sometimes.”
Honesty being the best policy, I give it to him straight and it works. He steps back to his seat facing me and sits down to put on his seatbelt.
“Me, too.”
“Huh?”
“I do stupid stuff sometimes.”
“We all do, but drinking too much is dangerous, and Stella won’t do it again,” Ash says.
“I’ll try.”
“You’ll do more than try. And you need to quit smoking, too, it’s a nasty habit and I know you can go without, I’ve seen you do it for days at a time.”
I loll my head against the seat to face him. “So bossy,” I say rolling my eyes and regretting it right away. Rolling my eyes makes my head hurt and my stomach churn.
“I am the boss, you’ve got that right.”
I roll my head facing forward again so I can see Cannon. “He’s not nice tonight,” I say with exaggerated animation.
Cannon snickers until Ash gives him a look. His smile fades and eyes widen when he shrinks back into his seat away from scary daddy. I love to see him smile and Ash’s squelching of his little kid light pisses me off.
I swing my arm out and whack Ash in the chest with the back of my hand, “You can be mean ta me but not him, he dint do nothing, did ya, buddy?” His smile returns, albeit not as bright, and Ash grabs ahold of my wrist.
“I wasn’t being mean, there’s a difference between mean and stern, and I'm stern. I don’t like it when people I care about get out of control when I’m not around.”
“So I can get drunk with you?”
“Yes, as long as it’s not a regular thing.”
The limo pulls to a stop in front of Ash’s hotel instead of my parent’s motel. “You gotta take me home.”
“Really? And where might that be?”
Jerk, that’s a low blow. He knows what I mean. He's only “stern” because I’m drunk. “Shut up,” I snap.
His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and Cannon’s eyes bulge out of his head.
“I’m going to let that go because you’re drunk.”
“Good idea.”
The driver exits the car and rounds the front to open our door. Limos are stupid. I can’t believe people pay someone else to drive them around and open and close the door.
Ash steps out and reaches in to scoop me up. I would protest and demand to walk on my own, but I'm positive that I can’t. I stuff my face into his chest for the walk of shame through the lobby, but peek out and see Cannon walking next to us with his hand in Ash’s belt loop.
It's an effective way to keep him close when there are no hands to hold. When we reach his room, Ash orders Cannon into his bathroom to brush his teeth while he carries me into an adjoining room.
“Two rooms?” I ask still slurring my words.
“I called and asked for the adjoining room when I left to come and get you. Cannon won’t be able to sleep if you’re up and down getting sick all night.”
That’s very considerate of him. He’s a good daddy, even if he’s scary sometimes.
In the room, he heads straight for the bathroom instead of the bed, where I want to be. “I don’t have to puke.”
“That’s okay.”
“I don’t have to pee either.”
“That’s okay, too.”
“Why are we…” I don’t get to finish my question when Ash steps into the tub fully clothed. He turns on the water, cold water, only cold.
I shriek and squirm in his arms, but it’s no use, even if I weren’t handicapped by my drunkenness he’s three times my size and a hundred times stronger.
“Ash! It’s cold, let me out!” I scream as we stand under the icy spray getting soaked to the skin.
“I don’t want you to pass out. This’ll wake you up.”
“I’m fucking awake!” I yell, sputtering water and pounding my fists against his chest.
“Good, so am I. If you hadn’t gone and decided to be Whiskey Jo we could both be in our warm beds right now talking on the phone or texting.”
Shivering takes over my body, head to toe I’m shaking like a leaf in a hurricane and my teeth are chattering. “I’mmm too cccold, Ash. Ppplleease get me outtt.”
He smacks the handle down, and the freezing water stops. He steps out of the shower and sits me on the vanity where he undresses me. The bathroom is spinning a hundred times worse than the bar or the hotel lobby. Ash fades in and out of sight as I grip the edge of the vanity and try to keep from falling on my face.
When I’m naked and wrapped in a towel, he carries me to one of two queen-size beds and tucks me in still shivering like crazy. He yanks the comforter and blanket off the extra bed and covers me with those, too.
“I’m going to change, don’t go anywhere. If you have to throw up, there’s a trash can right here.” He points at the floor next to the bed, where I am assuming a trash can is waiting to catch my vomit. Where in the hell does he think I’ll go? I can’t even walk.
“I have to go check on Cannon and get him back into bed.”
“Kay.”
“Don’t go to sleep.”
“Why?” I whine and close my eyes.
“Because I want to talk to you before you do.”
I roll my head away from him and moan. “I don wanna talk to you if you’re gonna be mean.”
He smoothes my hair away from my face with a rough, calloused hand and leans in to speak into my ear. “I'm not mean. I like you, a lot, maybe more than like, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. That’s what I was going to say. Go ahead and sleep if you can, I’ll be back.”
He starts to stand, but I grab at him catching the edge of his shirt. “Ash?”
“Yeah, darlin’?”
“I love you,” I say and close my eyes. He doesn’t say anything; instead, he stands next to me until I doze off into fitful nauseous sleep.
I told him I loved him. God, I hope I remember that
in the morning.
16
Keeping Stella
Ash
I’m a total hypocrite when it comes to drinking and partying, and I know it. I love being in big clubs surrounded by all kinds of people who are drunk, or high, or both. The pounding music and loss of inhibitions is a rush that I crave.
Or I should say, craved. Since I met Stella, I haven’t had the urge to board my jet on a Friday night and escape reality inside the bottle of Crown Royal. Her smile and her sweet disposition fill the hole I used to fill with alcohol.
Seeing her like I did last night made me angry for a number of reasons. First and foremost, her safety was at risk. It’s a miracle she was able to press the answer button on her phone when I called her. Anyone could have taken advantage of her. She could have fallen and cracked her skull open or passed out and aspirated on her vomit and died.
The second thing that bothered me is why the hell was she drinking in the first place? I’d just dropped her off at her parent’s motel room after dinner. What made her head across the street for a dozen shots of whiskey instead of going to bed?
And last, I couldn’t help thinking that if she has eliminated my urge to get messed up and escape life, why is she doing it? I understand she lost her home, but like she said, she doesn’t share her family’s grief over that loss, so why? Why obliterate yourself for no reason? Addiction or escape, those are the only reasons people get that wasted.
She did tell me she loved me, though, but how reliable could that proclamation be in her condition? I’ve probably pledged my love to hundreds of women when I was drunk, but I don't remember doing it, will she?
I pull her back close to my front under the pile of blankets and comforters. She’s warm and naked, the towel I wrapped her in is stuffed somewhere around our feet after a fitful night of sleep interrupted occasionally by a bout of vomiting into the trash can next to the bed.
She won’t be providing any family members moral support today. She’ll be lucky to get out of bed before the ten p.m. news tonight. I sent her mother a text telling her that her daughter was safe with me after twenty frantic messages between midnight and three in the morning.
I spilled the beans about our relationship and shut off her phone. Not my finest moment I’ll admit, but I wasn’t about to lie, and I couldn’t stand to listen to the damn thing vibrate all night.
It’s early, the sun is rising, and I need to get out of bed and check on Cannon. Pulling myself away from her naked body isn’t easy. If she weren’t in such shitty condition, I’d shove my jeans down and give her what’s what.
She groans, fidgets, and leans over the bed to dry heave in her sleep. I’m starting to feel sorry for her now. It’s been hours of this, and nobody deserves a hangover this bad.
“Darlin’, how about a warm bath?”
She flops back against me and groans again. “What, no cold shower this morning?” She remembers, that’s good.
“Nope, I think you’re past that. I’m not made of stone, well, not most of me,” I say pushing my rock-hard cock against her ass. “I’m starting to feel kind of bad for you. I’ve never seen somebody so sick from drinking.”
“I’ve never been this sick from drinking.”
“Remember how many shots you had?”
“Nope, don’t wanna either.”
“So, warm bath or breakfast in bed?”
“Oh God, neither. Just let me lie here and die, please.”
“Sorry, honey, no can do. Got a son out there who thinks a lot of you and I can’t let ya die.”
“Holy shit, Cannon. He saw me all messed up, didn’t he?”
“He did. Do you remember any of the ride home?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I can even remember my name right now.”
“Stella Marie Deardon.” If I’m lucky, Stella Marie Deardon Pride someday.
“Thanks. Shit, my mama’s probably freaking out. I’ll bet she’s got the Redwater police department, all five of ‘em, searching everybody’s house for miles.”
“About that.”
She rolls onto her back, and I turn away from her whiskey-barf breath. She covers her mouth but talks under her hand.
“What do you mean about that? Please, tell me you didn’t call my mama.”
“I didn’t call your mama.”
“Oh thank God. Wait, then what did you do?”
“I text her after she repeatedly text and called you for hours, and then I shut your phone off.”
“Aw shit, so what did you text her exactly?”
“You can turn your phone back on and see for yourself.” I take her phone from my back pocket and toss it onto the mattress between us. “I’m going to draw you a bath, you smell bad.”
“Gee thanks, I didn’t get drunk on purpose you know,” she calls to me when I step into the bathroom. I lean back and ask, “Why did you do it?”
“I just told you, it wasn’t intentional. I got to the room with my parents and needed a cigarette, it was pouring so I ran across the street to Drink, and Gus hooked me up. I don’t drown my sorrows in whiskey, Ash, I swear. It just happened, and I’m sorry for so many reasons. Obviously, it upset you a lot and I don’t like that. I also don’t like that Cannon saw me that way, and then there’s the feeling that I have one foot in the grave today, that’s not so peachy either.”
“Why did you need a cigarette so bad?”
“I don’t know, I had trouble finding my key in the rain, and then mama was all the Lord will provide, and I felt trapped in that tiny room. I bolted, and I think Gus was trying to be nice because he knows the ranch blew away, so he fed me free drinks until I couldn’t see straight. Why are you so bent out of shape about this anyway? Don’t you go to big clubs and get wasted on a regular basis?”
I return to the bed and sit down facing her. “I used to. The urge to lose myself at the end of every week was addictive. I’m not an alcoholic, though, sometimes I didn’t even drink. It was the need to escape life that I craved, but I haven’t felt that way for one second since I met you.”
“You don’t?”
“No, I don’t.”
“I wasn’t trying to escape you if that’s what you’re thinking. That is what you’re thinking, isn’t it? I’m not your mother or your ex, Ash. I’m not going to leave you for that kind of life, hell, I can’t even hang for one night let alone a lifetime of that shit.”
I reach out to cup her cheek in my hand and say something I’m not known to say often. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That my hang-ups made this into a bigger deal than was necessary. You’re stressed, you lost your home, you got drunk, shit, most people would do the same in your situation.”
She tilts her head pressing her cheek into my hand.
“I see things differently, darlin’. When someone uses alcohol to deal with a problem I automatically think addiction and the next thing on my mind is abandonment.”
“The only thing I’m addicted to here is you, and Cannon, and… cigarettes. And I’m not a runner. I’ll be around until you don’t want me to be.”
“You sure? Because I’m getting attached to you, I might want you around for like… forever?”
“Forever sounds great to me.”
“Yeah? You sure?”
“I’m the one with puke-breath smelling like cigarette smoke, are you sure?”
“Nobody’s perfect.” I shrug and go back into the bathroom. Nobody’s perfect, but she’s pretty damn close. One thing I don’t wanna do is fuck this up by being overbearing and judgmental.
I turn on the faucet and plug the standard sized bathtub. Watching the water rise I feel the lack of sleep catching up with me. Stella’s going to need to rest today, but Cannon is another story. I’m surprised he hasn’t bounced into Stella’s room yet.
“Daddy?” Speak of the devil, or angel as he has been since Stella entered our lives.
“Hey, buddy, did you get some good sleep?” I ask motioning for
him to come closer to me.
“I think so. You havin a bath?”
“No, Stella is. She’s still not feeling well.”
“She’s sleepin.”
“She is? She was just awake a second ago.” I stand up and lean back to check on her. Yep, she’s out like a light.”
I look at the water filling the tub, “You wanna bath instead?”
“Okay,” he says with an unenthusiastic shrug.
“What’s wrong, buddy?”
“Tella’s sick.”
“She’ll be okay, she just had too much to drink last night, that’s all.”
“You were mad at her.”
“I was, you’re right.”
“She’s gonna leave me.”
I close my eyes and sigh. Poor kid thinks like his old man. I sit down on the toilet lid and pull him in between my legs. “You know what? I was thinking the same thing this morning, but I talked to her. I told her I was sorry for getting so grouchy last night and you know what?”
“What?”
“She forgave me, and she said she’s staying with us for a long time.”
The wrinkle in his brow relaxes, and the corners of his mouth turn up in a relieved smile. “I won’t mess this up, buddy, I promise. Now, bath?”
“Yay! We get to keep Tella!” he yells, and I shush him with my finger on his lips.
“Yes, we do. We’re lucky guys; we get to keep our Stella.”
17
New beginnings
Stella
I’ve never had a hangover like this before. I swear Gus must have put something in my whiskey. I slept all day and evening refusing a bath, food, medication, and most of all, phone calls from my family.
I knew I was going to have to tell them about Ash and me, but not like this. I was thinking more along the lines of a family dinner with my parents, Charlotte, Jack Jr., Ash, and Cannon. I figured I could ease them into it, introduce Ash and Cannon and go from there, but instead, they got a grenade in the middle of the night.
Now it’s time to suck it up and return their calls. I’m sitting up in bed, and nothing is spinning. I haven’t thrown up since early this morning, and I’m starting to get hungry. Ash took Cannon to eat dinner, and I’m alone. No more excuses.
