Page 19
TREY
“Housekeeping,” someone says from outside my hotel door.
I pry my eyes open to glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. The little red lines say it’s just past noon, which means it’s well past checkout time.
The ceiling looks like it’s spinning. The back of my head throbs like I’ve been bashed with a sock full of coins. My bladder is about to burst, so I tear the blankets off me and stumble toward the bathroom.
My hotel door opens. An older woman strolls in, then gasps and covers her eyes. “Sorry! I’ll come back later.”
I glance at my morning wood swinging around. Oops.
After I’m done using the bathroom, I return to the bed, and my eyes go wide. A woman is lying on the side of the mattress I didn’t wake up on. Her long brunette hair is sprawled out all over the pillow.
Fuck. What trouble did I get into last night?
I pluck my boxers off the floor and shove my legs into them. Then I find my jeans and shirt and put those on too. I make sure to be extra loud as an attempt to wake up the woman, but she doesn’t even stir.
Begrudgingly, I kneel at her bedside and shake her shoulder. “Hey.”
She doesn’t move.
I shake her again—harder. “Hey.”
Slowly, her eyes open. I think she’s the bartender from last night, but I don’t know for sure. I don’t remember much beyond stopping at a liquor store before stumbling into the first hotel in sight. Did I ask this woman to come with me, or did she invite herself?
“Morning, handsome.”
I don’t bother with the pleasantries. “Did we fuck last night?” Please say no. Please say no.
Topless, she sits up and rubs her eyes. “We tried.”
We tried? I push off my knees and onto my feet as I scan the floor for her clothes. “What does that mean? And please, explain in detail.”
With a sigh, she catches the bra I toss at her. “It means you brought me here with the intention to fuck but you couldn’t get it up.”
What? That’s never happened to me before.
“Don’t worry,” she says as she slips her arms through her bra straps. “I understand. You were really fucking drunk. You guzzled two liters of Karkov like you’d been trapped in the Sahara for days. And that was after all the shots you already had at the bar. I’m surprised you’re not dead.”
If only I could be so lucky. “I have a high tolerance.” I pluck her shorts and panties off the floor, then toss them to her.
“You’re a good kisser. If you weren’t so wasted, I’m sure you would have fucked just as good.”
I’m so disappointed in myself for making out with another woman barely three days after leaving LA.
This isn’t why I left. Thank fuck I can’t remember it.
The only kissing-related memories I want are the ones I have of kissing Arella.
Drunk me probably thought getting laid would be a good way to get over her.
Hungover me knows it wouldn’t have worked. Nothing will.
“Do you need money for a taxi?” I ask as a hint that she should leave. I don’t even know her name, and I don’t care to.
“I’ll be fine. I don’t live too far from here. I work at that bar because I can walk there from my apartment. I would have walked home last night, but by the time you passed out, I was also too drunk to function.”
I don’t think I ever told Arella that I love how she doesn’t drink. While we were together, her soberness kept me sober.
“Who’s Arella?”
My attention flicks to the woman who’s getting dressed like she’s in a contest to see who can put panties on the slowest. “What?”
“You kept talking about her last night, saying things like ‘You’re not Arella’ and ‘You don’t taste like Arella.’ Is she an ex-girlfriend?”
I suck in a deep breath while also sucking in as much patience as possible. I can’t be a dick to this woman. She did nothing wrong, except try to sleep with a guy who belongs to someone else.
The person I was many months ago would have definitely given her the night of her life last night. I’d probably be doing it again right now since she seems so willing, but I’m not that person anymore. I don’t know who I am, but I’m not him.
I muster up the nicest tone I can. “Look, I don’t wanna be an asshole, but last night shouldn’t have happened. Also, it’s past checkout time. I think you should go.”
“Ahh.” She nods in understanding. “She’s your wife. Please tell me you’re at least separated?”
If I was married to Arella, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be at home with my wife, making sure she’s happy, fed, and living any type of life she wants. I’d be asking her to make babies with me and thanking every star in the sky for each precious moment I had with her.
The bartender sighs. “Of course you’re not separated. Why is it always me who finds the married ones?” She shakes her head at herself as she zips up her shorts. “Just my fucking luck.”
I don’t think I ever told Arella this either, but I like that she doesn’t swear. I mean, she has, and she will occasionally, but it’s not a habit of hers. I didn’t appreciate that about her enough.
Finally, the woman grabs her small purse off the table by the TV, then slips into her shoes and leaves without another word.
After another week in New York, I conclude that the booze isn’t doing enough.
Arella has never even been to New York, yet I feel her everywhere I go.
The restaurants I force myself to eat at have food she would have loved to try.
The stores I walk past feature flowy little dresses on the mannequins that she would’ve looked beautiful in.
The bars I hop between play songs over the speakers that remind me of her.
I thought I could do this. I thought I could be a better man than I was, but it turns out, I can’t. It’s not like she remembers the man I was anyway. A man who stayed away from drugs. A man who could deal with his inner demons. Why bother trying to be him when she’s not around to see it?
It’s surprisingly easy to find z-drugs. All I had to do was download an app. Within two hours, I had jaderro in my hands, and the needles to inject it with.
As the liquid races up my veins, I lay my head back on a hotel pillow and wait for it to kick in.
I went straight for the good stuff this time because if I remember correctly, jaderro is the shit that will knock me out for a couple of days.
I’ve already booked this room for the next week and asked for no housekeeping.
Hopefully, I can spend the next forty-eightish hours not thinking about her. And when I wake up, I’ll do it again.
Usually, jaderro takes about two minutes for the effects to appear. It’s only been thirty seconds, and my vision is already blurry, and my body’s getting warm and tingly. My nose itches, but when I move my arm to scratch it, my arm feels heavy like my bones have pebbles in them.
The slight nausea will come next, but at least it’ll be accompanied by the calm high. I wait for what feels like forever for that high to arrive. When it finally does, I’m euphoric, relaxed, and sleepy. My chest doesn’t feel achy anymore, and my mind feels numb. I could get used to this.
Two weeks later, I stare at the emptiness of my new penthouse in Manhattan, wishing it was my house in LA with Arella in it. The only reason I signed the lease for a penthouse this morning is because it was the first available place I could find to rent in this goddamn city.
I tried nine different apartment buildings before I found this one. Every other place was either not move-in ready, the person in charge wasn’t around, or they were already full with a wait list that’s months long. I don’t have months because Liz is coming to visit me tomorrow for Thanksgiving.
This isn’t a surprise. She told me she’d be coming to visit over the holidays before I even left LA. I procrastinated on finding a place to live until the last possible day because, well... I’m an idiot.
Liz thinks I found this place two weeks ago and that I chose this city for the vibrant nightlife.
In reality, I chose New York City because I happened to be here after I finished doing all the things I wanted to do.
I guess one perk is that the many emotions rushing through my head drown out some of the achy ones in my chest. This is better than being at my lonely cabin, that’s for damn sure.
Liz thinks I’ve been enjoying things like exploring Times Square and seeing Broadway shows. In reality, I’ve been hotel-hopping and getting wasted at the nearest bars. Any time a bartender cuts me off, I stumble into the next closest bar until those people cut me off too.
The thing about getting an Ordinary bartender is that they think ten shots is enough for me. I need the whole damn bottle to feel buzzed, another to feel drunk, and a third to feel nothing. Feeling nothing is my goal.
My other goal is to wake up alone. So far, I haven’t found any more brunette surprises in my bed. All I ever find are empty bottles and a used needle.
Unfortunately, I can’t do any of that shit tonight because Liz’s flight arrives in the early morning. I need to be sober so I don’t look like a wreck when she gets here. Plus, I have to make this place look like I’ve been living here for more than twenty-four hours.
So I head to the store.
The next day, Liz’s face drops the second she enters my apartment. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s called a penthouse,” I say like a smartass, because that’s not what she’s talking about.
She drops her carry-on suitcase onto the floor, then backhands my arm. “Why is there nothing in here?”
“What are you talkin’ about?” I rush to open my kitchen cabinets and gesture at all the dishes I bought yesterday. “See? I have stuff.”
“T, you have zero furniture. My voice is echoing against your walls.”
“I have furniture.” I lead her to the bedroom, where a blow-up mattress is lying on the floor. “See?”
She flashes me an are you serious? look. “Haven’t you been living here for, like, two weeks now?”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19 (Reading here)
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63