The auction is to help raise money for a children’s cancer charity. The team has donated a bunch of signed memorabilia, and my dad has also asked me to make a purchase on his behalf. Mary usually comes to these things for my dad, but she couldn’t make it tonight, so he asked me, and it felt good that he believed I could come here alone, where alcohol would be served.
It’s a good test for me, too.
Only thing is, I haven’t managed to make it to the bar yet.
It’s not that I think I’m going to go over there and buy all the alcohol.
But it’s just been so long since I walked up to a bar, and it just feels weird.
“Hey, Arianna.”
I turn and see Leo Parsons, the sports journalist.
“Hi…Leo,” I say, surprised to see him.
The last time I saw him was, well, a tad awkward and also the night when Ares and I had that huge fight, which resulted in him walking out on me.
Not that it was any of Leo’s fault, of course. I just feel a bit weird because I told Leo that Ares and I weren’t together. And, now, everyone knows Ares and I are dating. There’ve been the news stories about Ares dating me, the coach’s bad-girl daughter. How my dad has a big problem with us dating, which he doesn’t. All the speculating that the media likes to do. But, overall, it’s not been too awful. And, after the initial interest in Ares’s and my private life, it has died down.
Leaving Ares and me to get on with our relationship, which couldn’t be better.
“How are you?” I ask.
“Good. You here representing?” he asks.
“Yeah, my dad asked me to come on his behalf. What about you?”
“It’s filled to the rafters with sports personalities. ASN wanted me to come cover it—see who bids on what and how much.”
“Sounds…newsworthy.”
He shrugs. “It’s the kind of shit people want to know. How much a celebrity is willing to bid for charity. Gossip sells. Even in sports.”
“True.” I sigh.
“I saw the stories about you and Kincaid…”
“Yeah…I’m sorry I wasn’t honest that night. It was just…my dad didn’t know, and—”
“You don’t have to explain it to me.” He kindly waves me off.
I smile. A beat of silence passes between us.
“Do you want a drink?” He nods at my empty hands. “I was just on my way to the bar.”
“Um…”
“Nonalcoholic. I’m the same as you, remember?”
“Yeah, of course,” I say, a little embarrassed. “That’d be great. Actually, you know what? I’ll come with you,” I add, feeling a little braver, going with someone.
“I’m taking it, you haven’t been near the bar since you got here?” he says.
I shake my head, biting my lip.
“Don’t put yourself through it then. I’m used to it. But it takes time. I’ll go.”
“Thank you. That’s really kind of you.”
He shrugs. “So, what nonalcoholic beverage can I get you?” he says with a flourish.
I laugh. “Sparkling water’s fine.”
He pulls a comedic face. “No way! Why don’t you go wild and join me for a Coke? Diet, of course.”
I laugh again. “Okay. A Diet Coke would be great. Thanks.”
I watch him walk away in the direction of the bar, and then I turn back to the room.
I get my cell from my purse and check it. There’s a text from Ares. He must have just sent it before they went on the field.
I’m so proud of you, going there alone tonight, babe. You’re amazing. Love you. See you tomorrow. xx
Smiling, I tap back a reply.
I’m proud of me, too. Have a great game. Love you, too. Can’t wait to see you! xx
I open the NFL app on my phone to check the score. Giants are winning.
“You look happy.” Leo appears beside me.
He holds out my Diet Coke, and I take it from him.
“Thanks. Giants are winning,” I tell him, and he smiles.
I close down the app and put my cell away. I have a drink of my Coke.
I wince. It tastes a bit bitter.
“Everything okay?” Leo asks.
“Yeah, my Coke just tastes a bit…iffy.”
He frowns and then takes a sip of his own Coke. He pulls a face. “Yeah, it’s not great. Must be cheap Coke instead of the real stuff. You want me to get you a different drink?” He holds his hand out for my glass.
“No, it’s fine.” I smile, waving him off. I feel bad that he went to get me a drink, and I’m complaining about it. I take another sip. It’s actually not too bad the second time, so it must’ve been me. “It’s actually not too bad,” I tell him, “once you get used to it.”
He sips his own drink, trying it again. “Yeah”—he smiles at me over the rim of his glass—“I think you’re right.”
I take another sip and hold the glass to my chest. “So, I know you’re working, but are you going to bid on anything?”
He shakes his head, an uncomfortable smile on his face. “No…I think the items are going to be a bit out of my price range.”
“Mine, too,” I tell him, and his smile relaxes. “But my dad asked me to put a bid in for him. My choice.”
“Spending the ’rent’s money. Always a bonus.” He chuckles.
I laugh, too, but I don’t actually agree with the statement. I hate spending my dad’s money. I hate that I still owe him so much money. I’m only comfortable doing this because I’m buying this for him. I wouldn’t be comfortable with taking his money and buying something for myself.
“Have you had a look at the auction items yet?”
I shake my head, having another sip of my drink.
“You want to look around with me?” he asks. “I can check out the bid lists while you browse the items.”
“Okay.” I smile. “But you have to promise one thing.”
He gives me a speculative look. “What’s that?”
“Keep my bid out of your story.”
He gives me a mock-affronted look, pressing his hand to his chest. “As if I’d put you in my story. We’re friends…right?”
“Right.” I smile at him before having another sip of my drink.
Leo has just wandered off to go chat with a friend he just spotted. I’ve put a bid in for my dad on a Yankees shirt signed by the whole team. My dad might be football for life, but he’s also a Yankees fan.
I’m leaning against the wall, people-watching, holding my half-drunk, now-warm glass of Coke.
I get my cell from my purse to check the scores again. It’s thirty-eight to seven. Only ten minutes left…meaning another victory.
Go, baby!
I slip my cell back in my purse, knowing how happy Ares is going to be with this win.
Then, I feel myself sway.
I press a hand to the wall, steadying myself. I lift my eyes out to the room, and my vision goes hazy.
I don’t feel right.
I hope I’m not coming down with something.
I move away from the wall and wobble unsteadily, making my way to the restroom.
The stalls are empty. I put my purse and glass down on the counter by the sink and feel my body sway again, my head feeling light. I grip the edge.
Something’s not right.
I stare down at my glass of Coke.
It doesn’t have alcohol in it…does it? Surely not.
Leo knows I can’t drink.
I pick the glass up with one hand, holding steady on the counter with the other. I hold the glass to my nose, sniffing the Coke.
No, definitely no alcohol in there. I’d know.
I put the glass down with a harsh clang, like I don’t have proper control over my hand. I stare at my hand, and there’s a tremor to it. I look up at myself in the mirror. My eyes are hazy, and my pupils are dilated, like I’m drunk.
God, no.
I turn on the faucet. Cupping my hands under the wate
r, I lean forward to splash water on my face, but I stumble and bang my elbow on the sink.
“Fuck…” My word comes out slurred.
I sound drunk.
What is happening to me right now?
I grab my purse and stumble out of the restroom. I hold the wall as I walk for support, getting looks from people passing me on the way to the restroom.
I’m starting to panic.
I don’t know what’s happening.
Should I look for Leo? He might be able to help me.
I stumble back into the room, looking for him, but my eyes can’t focus properly.
Shit.
I’m scared. I don’t know what’s happening to me.
Ares. I want Ares.
What am I going to do?
Home. I need to go home.
I turn too fast and stumble into someone.
The guy catches me by the waist, steadying me. “Whoa there.” He chuckles. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry,” I mumble out, my words slurring.
I stagger past him, needing to get out of here. I somehow make my way through the event room and out into the lobby of the hotel.
I trip my way through the lobby. I can feel eyes on me.
Fuck.
Tears sting my eyes.
I make it out of the hotel, the doorman holding the door for me.
“Night, ma’am,” he says but stops with a look of concern on his face. “Are you okay?”
“Need a taxi,” I manage to get out, my voice all over the place.
“Ah, little too much to drink.” He chuckles good-naturedly. “I’ll flag you a cab now.”
I want to scream that I haven’t had anything to drink. That I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I can’t seem to form the words.
The next thing I know, I’m in a taxi. I manage to give my address to the cabbie.
He turns and looks at me. “You’re not gonna puke, are you, love?”
I shake my head and immediately regret it.
Closing my eyes, I lay my head back on the seat as the car pulls away.
“That’ll be fifteen fifty.” The sound of a male voice jolts me awake.
Where am I?
Cab.
I look out the window.
I’m outside my building.
I rifle in my purse, pull out a twenty, and hand it to him. I don’t wait for the change. Then, I fumble with the door, pull the handle, and manage to get it open.
I literally fall out of the cab. Bringing myself upright, I hold on to the car door. I get it closed and turn to my building.
The stairs look like a mountain.
I’m so tired.
I just need to get in my apartment, and I’ll be fine.
I stagger up the steps of my building, gripping the railing for support.
Somehow, I make it inside, and I lean against the wall, closing my eyes. I feel myself start to slide down the wall. Somehow, I stop myself. I push away from the wall and move over to my door. I dig for my keys and drop my cell on the floor.
“Shit,” I mumble. I don’t even have the energy to pick it up.
With a lot of difficulty, I get my key in my door. I turn the lock and open it. I fall through, losing my balance, and I hit the floor of my living room with a thud.
“Shit.” I moan in pain.
I can’t get up. I’m too spent.
What’s wrong with me?
I manage to shut the door with my foot and just lie there, unable to move.
My head is swimming. I can barely lift it off the floor. I try, and my stomach revolts.
I’m going to be sick.
I throw up all over the floor, right where I am.
“No,” I groan, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
What’s wrong with me?
I just need to sleep, and then I’ll be okay.
I hear my cell start to ring from somewhere.
I’ll get it later. Too tired.
I’m vaguely aware that I need to clean my mess up, but I have no energy, so I leave it.
I slowly drag myself across the floor, crawling toward the sofa. A wave of nausea hits me again. So, I stop moving and just lie down on the floor.
I’ll just stay here awhile.
And then I’ll be fine.
I hear my cell start to ring again in the far-off distance.
Later. I’ll get it later. Rest now.
I close my eyes.
And everything goes black.
Hammering. Sounds like hammering.
I blink my heavy eyes open.
Where am I?
I see my coffee table above my head, realizing I’m on the floor.
What am I doing down here?
Bang! Bang!
“Arianna, open the fucking door!”
Ares?
I push myself up onto my hands and knees and sit up. My head spins.
“Shit.” I wince, putting my hand to my head.
What happened?
Oh God. I didn’t drink…did I?
I flash through hazy memories. Leo…Diet Coke…feeling ill…getting home…being sick.
I turn my head and see the puke on the floor.
Shit.
More pounding.
“Arianna! I know you’re in there! Open the fucking door!”
He’s angry.
Why?
“Coming,” I call, my voice raspy. I get to my feet with the help of the sofa. I’ve still got my shoes on and last night’s clothes.
This feels so very reminiscent of the last eight years of my life.
But I didn’t drink anything.
I pull my shoes off as I pad over to the door and open it.
The look on his face.
Disgust. Distaste. Anger. Betrayal.
He’s holding something out to me. I look down at his hand, confused.
He’s holding my cell.
Why does he have my cell?
“I was trying to call you all night.” His voice is cold and hard.
“Why do you have my cell?”
“I found it out here in the hall. Clearly, you were that fucking wasted that you didn’t even know you’d lost it.”
“I—”
He cuts me off with a slash of his hand. “I don’t want to fucking hear it, Ari.” He storms past me into my apartment.
I close the door and turn to face him, leaning on the door for support, feeling like crap. “I don’t understand. Why are you so angry?” I ask softly, my head pounding.
He lets out a bitter laugh. “Have you seen the state of yourself?” His eyes go down to the floor, and he spots the vomit there. Another acidic laugh. “Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head, like he’s seen this scene a million times before.
He has.
“I was sick last night,” I quietly tell him.
“Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?”
“What?” I say, confused.
“You were wasted, Ari.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I swear, I didn’t drink. I had a Coke. That was it.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me!” he roars, making me jump. “You can’t fucking deny this, Ari! It’s all over the internet! Jesus!”
“What? I don’t understand.”
My cell still in his hand, he taps the screen. A moment later, he hands it to me. It’s a gossip news website; a video is on the screen, ready to watch.
“Press play.” His voice is arctic.
I press play, and the video comes to life. It’s dark and grainy. Like it was captured on a cell phone. But it’s me, stumbling down a hall and into the party. Bumping into some guy and almost falling over. Then, it cuts to a cab, me falling out of it. Staggering up the steps into my building, and then it ends.
I swipe the screen down to read the headline.
BAD GIRL GONE BADDER!
Looks like Arianna Petrelli—daughter of Giants coach, Eddie Petrelli, and current girlfriend of Giants quarterback, Ares Kincaid—
has gone back to her partying ways. She was seen drunk and stumbling around a charity event she was attending on behalf of the team.
One partygoer said, “She was drinking all night. Making a real show of herself. Flirting up a storm with some guy who definitely wasn’t Ares Kincaid.”
A staff member who was working the bar and served Petrelli numerous times confirmed this, saying she ordered “at least five vodka and Cokes.”
A source from the Giants tells us that Kincaid will be furious with this news.
Let’s hope Petrelli can get herself back to rehab and finally leave her partying days behind her.
Check out the video for actual footage.
“I…” I stare up at Ares. “I don’t understand.”
“I do. It’s pretty fucking clear, isn’t it?”
“No…not to me, it’s not. I don’t know what happened.”
He lets out a humorless laugh. “You don’t know what happened? Right…” he says disbelievingly.
“I’m telling you that I don’t know.”
“So, the vodka just jumped up and leaped down your throat.”
“I didn’t drink vodka.”
“Don’t fucking lie!” he yells again.
“I’m not lying!” I yell back, not even caring that it’s making my head thump and my throat sorer. “I didn’t drink anything but Coke last night. One Diet Coke.”
“Who was the guy?”
“What guy?”
His eyes are dark, impenetrable with anger. “The guy you were flirting up a storm with.”
“Leo.” I move away from the door, toward him, my expression pleading with him to believe me. “But I wasn’t flirting with him. He got me a Coke, and we chatted for a bit. Ask him if you don’t believe me.”
“Leo, the journalist guy?”
“Yes.”
He laughs, and I frown.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” He stares at me. “Not one fucking thing is funny about this.”
“I didn’t drink…I swear to you.”
His jaw tightens, eyes flaring.
“I just had a Coke. Nothing else. Then, I started to feel weird, so I went to the restroom, and I-I just felt…off. I checked my drink to make sure there was no booze in it, and I couldn’t smell anything. But I was woozy. I couldn’t walk. I don’t know what happened. Someone must’ve spiked my drink.” I suddenly realize.
Ares takes a step closer to me. “You know…if you’d told me that you relapsed, I would’ve understood. Helped you. But…no…you just can’t admit it, can you?” He drops his arms by his sides. “I thought you were different than my dad.” He shakes his head. “But you’re just the same.”
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