Page 12

Ten

By the time I re-emerged from the toilets Adam was gone, and so was Megsy. Instead of returning to the table where the Onslow Boys awaited with their funny one-liners, I decided to slink back into the back bar and drown my sorrows alone … and admittedly wait for Adam.

Chris peeled his way through the divider from the front bar, raising his eyebrows in question, in the speechless way bartenders did. It was the universal code for ‘you want a drink?’

I couldn’t feel any more rock bottom than I did. I took in a deep breath.

“Hair of the dog, old man, hair of the dog.”

Chris laughed. “You may not be able to hold your liquor but you do have a cast-iron constitution.”

“Aw, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Chris laughed. “Jesus, you need to get out more.”

“Clearly,” I scoffed.

A painful hour had passed and there was still no sign of Adam. I sat slumped at the bar, drunk, squinting through a broken pretzel and using it as a monocle.

“I say, old chum,” I announced in a mock English accent.

Chris watched on from behind the bar, his eyes narrowed. Clearly he wasnot amused.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t do British.”

I removed my makeshift monocle and aggressively snapped my teeth onto my pretzel. “Sod off.” I straightened.

Chris shook his head, an exasperated sigh expanding his chest. “You’re a pitiful sight.”

I grabbed the straws from my drink, wedging them under the corners of my top lip, creating fluro pink fangs, and scrunched up my face.

“Yeah, that’s attractive,” he deadpanned. “I can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to tap that?”

My instinct was to hiss at him, but was interrupted by a rather defiant, “Shut up, Chris.”

Tammy rounded the corner of the bar like a breath of fresh air, tall, tanned and lovely.

Usually a vision in Lycra, tonight she rocked jeans and a white tee, her light brown hair loosely tumbled across her shoulders.

It was a wonder why of all the men in the world, Tammy was with Chris, the moody, sullen bartender. She was such a delight.

“Termmy,” I managed past my makeshift fangs; it was so good to see a friendly face.

She stopped short of me, her mouth pouting with sympathy as she plucked the straws from my mouth and shoved them back into my now-empty glass. “How much have you had to drink?”

I squinted my eyes for two reasons: one it helped me think and secondly it stopped my triple vision of Tammy’s silhouette. Failing to accurately calculate what was a rather disastrous sum of booze, I squeezed my half lids and pressed my forehead to the bar with a groan.

“Too many.”

“Chris?”

“What?”

“Why did you let her drink so much?”

“Don’t blame me; she wanted to get loaded, I got her loaded.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” Tammy scoffed. “Look at her, she’s a hot mess.”

“Ha! She was a hot mess sober too.”

I lifted my head. “Hey, I’m still here, you know.”

“Oh, of course you are, honey,” Tammy soothed, rubbing my shoulder.

Chris shook his head. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

“Shut up!” Tammy and I spoke in unison.

“Seriously, if you’re going to throw a pity party, make it over someone who deserves your tears, not Rory Fucking Franklin.”

I frowned, confused; how had Chris known about him?

Oh, that’s right, I told him. I had told him as if he had been a girlfriend at a slumber party.

I divulged my disastrous date, caring little if he wanted to know or not; just like with Adam, it had felt good to let it out.

And besides, the last thing I had wanted them to guess as the real reason I was drowning my sorrows—as each tick of the clock clicked past—was Adam being out there with Megsy, in the dark, alone.

Megsy, the girl Adam first loved. Megsy, the girl he’s with rather than being here with me.

“Stop talking.” I massaged my temples.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. We can’t say that name anymore.”

I glared through my dishevelled hair. “Don’t ever say that name.”

“I guess checking the footy score is definitely out of the question then?”

“It’s cricket season,” I scowled, sweeping a blonde tendril from my eyeline and straightening on my stool. I swung around toward Tammy, using her for leverage as I stood, swaying with the room.

“Well, you’re not as drunk as I thought then.”

“Whatever. I’m going to bed,” I said, pushing myself up to stand.

“Whoa, hang on, I’ll help you up the stairs.” Tammy came rushing to my side.

I waved her words away. “I’m fiiiine, I have done it a trillion times before.

” I moved to make a step, hooking my arm through my handbag and dragging the stool over with an almighty bang against the floorboards.

“Oopsie.” I giggled. “Chris, you have to get better stools.” I pointed an accusing finger toward the bar, toward where I thought Chris was.

“Hey, where did he go?” I closed an eye, desperately trying to focus.

Before I could get my bearings I felt a vice-like grip around my upper arm swing me around and frogmarch me in the opposite direction as if I weighed nothing. “Come on, Cinderella, before your carriage turns back into a pumpkin.”

“Pfft, and who are you? My wicked fairy godmother?”

Chris shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”

My instinct was to move away from him, but that was soon stopped when Tammy grabbed my other arm and moved me along through the bar. I threw Tammy a ‘how could you?’ glare, but when she smiled, small and sad, my glower dimmed.

“I am a hot mess, huh?”

Tammy’s smile broadened. “No, you’re not,” she lied.

“Yep, you can take the Onslow out of the girl but you can’t take the Onslow out of the girl.” I frowned, trying to recall the saying.

“You’ll feel better in the morning.” Tammy rubbed my arm.

Chris laughed. “Don’t tell her that.”

“Why?”

“Because given the alcohol ratio she is going to be hung like a wet towel tomorrow.”

“Oh, well … we’ll be there with coffee,” Tammy added quickly, helping Chris turn the corner toward the stairs with my limp body wedged between them.

“Aww, breakfast in bed.” I pouted. “You guys are the best.”

Chris kicked the door open to Adam’s room. The light from the hall illuminating the bed inside the darkened space was all I could manage from my sleepy state before face-planting the mattress, clasping the sheets, and smiling.

Adam.

I rolled slowly onto my back, sighing as my weary bones melted into the cushioned underlining.

Both my legs lifted at the same time; I peeked through my lids and grinned broader as I watched Tammy and Chris unlace my boots, yanking me free from them.

I rolled over, grabbing a pillow and snuggling against it.

“Night, Mum. Night, Dad,” I mumbled.

Chris laughed. “Bloody hell.” His footsteps made their way out of the room and down the hall.

I sighed, feeling the weight of the cover engulf me, lovingly adjusted over me, with the corners tucked in to ward off a wayward chill.

I felt the bed dip next to me, and a cool hand sweep away the hair from my brow.

I could barely make out Tammy’s face, but I knew the look anyway.

A sad smile and kind eyes, pity. I was grateful for the poor lighting.

“You know what? You are going to feel so much better tomorrow, I promise.”

“Breakfast in bed?” I croaked.

Tammy laughed. “A million times better than that.”

I frowned. “What could be better than that?” I yawned.

Tammy rubbed my shoulder. “Surprising Tess.”

The bed creaked as Tammy stood, her light footsteps making their way toward the door. “Night, Ellie.”

“Mmm hmm,” I managed, snuggling into Adam’s doona, taking in a deep breath.

I was disappointed they didn’t smell like him.

Still, with the aid of a belly full of booze and the familiarity of Adam’s room, I had little doubt that despite wherever Adam was, and whoever Adam was with, I would slip into a deep, comfortable sleep.

That was the only benefit of being drunk.

Senses are dulled, so pain I should be experiencing was softened. Megsy Fucking Who?