Page 6

Chapter Six

R ory watched the lights in the truck spin as Lori drove him home.

“You need to go to the fucking hospital, boss.”

“No hospitals.” His tongue felt like it belonged in someone else’s body, too big, too thick. Like a dead man’s tongue, a corpse’s… “Oh, God. Pull over. Pull over right now.”

She jerked the truck to the right and screeched to a halt. He tore the door open and landed on his knees, heaving violently.

“Hospital. You have to go to the hospital.”

“No.” He slashed the air with one hand. “I need to go home. I can sleep it off.”

“If you have a concussion, you’re not supposed to sleep!”

“I don’t have a concussion,” he snarled. There was something wrong with the motherfucking beer. It had gone off, made him loopy with only a few sips. “Made a dick of myself.”

Self came out like ‘shelf’. Maybe he would pass out. That might feel better.

“Yeah, well. Come on, back in the truck.”

His head rang with crazy sounds, but Rory didn’t think any of them were real. He groped out, trying to find something steady.

“Boss. Seriously.”

“Take. Me. Home.” He would fire her ass, right here and now.

She clenched her jaw, studying him for a moment. “Okay, but if you’re not better when we get there, I’m taking you in.”

“Fair enough.” He’d be better if it killed him. His stomach heaved again, and he turned away from Lori, just letting loose.

“Oh, honey…”

“I’m sorry.” She’d seen him like this once before, back when they were in high school and his one date with a guy had ended in a terrible detox from Jell-O shots. He’d hoped never to put her in that situation again. “You only had one, right? A beer?”

“Half.” He gagged, breathing through his nose. “God, Lori, kill me, okay?”

“Was it bad?”

“Had to be.”

“God. Food poisoning and a concussion.” She shook her head. “I think you need to go to the ER. Please, boss? I don’t want to sit up at your place all night, nice as it is.”

“Please. Just let me get home and drink a glass of water.”

“Jesus.” Lori bundled him back into the truck and handed him a Brookshires bag in case he needed it.

“Thank you. This sucks.”

“It does. Are you sure it was the beer? What did you eat?”

“Nothing. I ate whatever you brought for lunch.”

“Oh, man. Skunked beer on an empty stomach.” Lori drove him home and his brain began to slow down finally, the spinning easing.

“Yeah. Yeah.” He felt better, though, less like death walking.

“Here we are. Inside, boss. You need water. ”

“Yeah. Yeah. God, this sucks. I’m so thirsty.” He felt as if he was in Hell all of a sudden—he was so hot, dry as a bone.

Lori dragged him inside before easing him down on the couch.

He didn’t fight it. God, he felt like hammered shit. He let her ease off his shoes and get him a bottle of water with a straw. “My phone says I should get you medical attention. Bad alcohol can poison your kidneys and all.”

“Let me rest, honey. Please.”

“Okay, okay. You sleep it off.” He heard her moving around, heading to the kitchen.

“Good girl.” Thank God. Rory wrapped his arms around his middle and closed his eyes, one foot on the floor, copying an old drunk trick from college. Kept things from spinning any more than they had to, though that sensation was way better.

He took one deep breath after another. He could do this. He could. Food poisoning. How did beer go that wrong? Mold?

Oh, God. No thinking of mold.

No mold. Black mold got in people’s brains and they disintegrated from the inside out. Ugh.

The last thing he needed was to have melty brains. He moaned and scrubbed his hand over his eyes. Okay, sleep it off, asshole .

Lori wandered around the kitchen—fixing herself something to eat, he was sure. He hated that she was missing the party. She loved them.

“You should head back. I won’t tell.”

“You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“I’m just concentrating on not dying. Someone has to give them my check.”

“Yeah. I left it there. You made a bit of a spectacle of yourself with the little hottie in the wheelchair. Is he straight? Tell me he’s straight.”

“I imagine he’s straight. Rumor is that his brother’s a little bent in the middle, but incredibly careful not to advertise.” Wasn’t it supposed to be a seventy percent chance if one twin was gay, then the other would be? The odds were in his favor.

Well, the gay odds were. The attraction not so much, after he’d made an ass of himself. “I need to—Gotta apologize…” Rory couldn’t hold a thought with both hands.

“Later. When you’re not dying.” Lori’s hands were cool, comforting.

“Okay. Thas goo.”

“Uh-huh. Go, coherence boy, go.”

Go. Yeah. That was it. He could just go.

Right to sleep.