What the fuck am I doing? I made a complete idiot of myself in front of the man of my dreams. He must think I am a raving lunatic.
No sooner had I stuck my foot in my mouth did a crowd of women rush the table, all of them with cameras ready to get the picture of a lifetime. The rest of the night was an alcohol-induced blur.
“Are you awake, Portland? It’s Haze Luc, and I am the only one you want to wake up to.”
I rolled over on the bed, turning down the volume on the radio. My head feels as though an elephant is jumping up and down in my brain. I don’t know how much I drank, but obviously, it was more than I should.
Usually, this was the time of the morning that Lola banged on the door and screamed for me to be quiet, but today, silence. She was either asleep or gone.
“LOLA,” I called out.
There was no answer at all. If Lola were home, she would respond. I slipped from the bed, walking past that dreaded mirror. God, why do I hate that mirror so much? I guess because it shows the real me, and though there is nothing wrong with me. Sadly, my view is still that fourteen girl. “Enough,” I scolded, walking over and turning the mirror to face the wall. If I can’t see it, then it’s not real.
“Oh, Lola,” calling out as I pulled my door open. It was odd that she wasn’t home, but who knows, as drunk as I was, I don’t know if she even made it home.
My hand on her bedroom door, I slowly pushed it open, smiling when I noticed she was sound asleep. It’s about time she slept in for a change.
“Alexa, start the coffee,” I called out.
I listened to the coffee starting, flipping on the TV, and settling down on the couch. No school today meant I could nurse this hangover and be lazy for the day—something I never get a chance to do. I wrapped myself in my Grandmother’s blanket. My eyes closed as the news gave the updates of the night before.
“Local radio personality Haze Luc treated fans to an opening party at Club Volume, but not without problems. A local woman was attacked in the alley after the club closed. Beaten, the unidentified female remains in a coma at Portland General Hospital. Police are investigating.”
I sat straight up, my hands to my chest, “Oh fuck, what the hell?” I was there until the place closed, or was I? I don’t remember much after making a fool of myself in front of Haze and being pulled away and scolded by Lola. Who the hell was this woman, and why would anyone attack her? God, why am I overthinking this whole thing? It has nothing to do with me, but fuck. Security was smothering that place last night. Maybe a boyfriend mad over his girl fawning over Haze. All the women were dropping their panties on his table. I would have, but Lola would have killed me if I tried.
Moving from the couch only to pour a cup of coffee, I grabbed the remote, flipping until I found another broadcast on the event. It was the same as before, but this one gave the age of the woman. She is 30 and married. Why the hell would anyone married be at that club? A full-body shiver started down my spine. There was something more to this story, but what? As I leaned back, tucking my feet up, the door to Lola’s room opened, and it was then that I got the shock I never saw coming. Donovan! She was fucking Donovan last night while I slept.
“Oh shit. Fuck,” I yelped, pulling the blanket tighter around my body. All I wore was a pair of panties and a lacy white bra. Lola never brings anyone home, so this was a complete shock.
“Sorry, love, I need to piss. Where’s the loo?” Donovan asked.
Pointing to the bathroom, I sat there again, looking like a complete fool. Why couldn’t I act like a normal human being in front of these people? I grabbed my phone, texting Lola, “What the hell? You have Donovan here? I need to speak to you, NOW!”
The bathroom door opened, Donovan looked around before grabbing a coffee cup and pouring one for himself. He seemed so at home here. It made me wonder if this was his first time in the apartment or if I was oblivious to his presence. Still watching him out of the corner of my eye, my coffee shook in my hands. God, this man was beautiful too. How can anyone look like this?
“Is Lola awake?” I asked.
Donovan shook his head, sitting across from me in a reclining chair, “She’s knocked out. Did you have a good time last night?”
I nodded, “I did, but you haven’t heard the news?” Before he could respond, I flipped the channel back to the news station. “Last night, some lady was attacked after the club closed. She’s in a coma,” I said.
He sat up in the chair as though he saw a ghost, “Oh the fuck? What the hell happened?” Donovan pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing it quickly, “Haze, man, what the fuck happened after I left? Mate, some woman is almost dead.”
I pushed myself back on the couch listening to the two of them talk, but all I could think about was what was Haze wearing? Is it sick that my mind was off the woman and on someone who doesn’t even know my name?
“Alright, Mate. I will see you in an hour. If the cops come, don’t talk to them without the publicist. They will twist everything you say. See you soon,” Donovan said, hanging up the phone.
“Did he see anything?” I asked. I just wanted to hear what he said, not caring about seeing the woman get beaten.
“No, but I gotta go. Tell Lola to call me later,” Donovan said. As he got up, grabbing his jacket, I didn’t even have time to tell him okay before the door shut. God, what the hell was going on? Donovan Case used my toilet. Fuck, I can’t even think straight right now.
I sat in a daze, not hearing Lola walk out of the bedroom. “Where the hell did, he go?” she asked, looking around like I forced him to leave the place.
“He left. God, what the hell did you do last night?” I asked.
“I’m sure you can figure that out. Did you make him leave?” Lola snapped.
I sat the coffee cup down, looking over with a pissed-off look, “No. If you must know, some woman was beaten behind that club last night, and they don’t think she will live. He went to see Haze before the cops came.”
On her way to the kitchen, Lola swung around quickly, “Oh no. Was she in the club last night? Oh my god, this isn’t good at all. Haze doesn’t need this bad publicity. Did they catch someone?”
I shrugged, grabbing the coffee cup again, my hands wrapped tight around it, “I don’t think so. They never said anything other than she is a 30-year-old married woman. Most of those women last night were that age and probably married.”
“Probably some jealous husband pissed off at his wife and beat the shit out of her for flirting. I can’t believe how many of them threw their dirty underwear at him. Disgusting,” I scowled.
Rolling her eyes, Lola poured her coffee as she looked over, “Sure, but if you could, you would have thrown yours.”
Shrugging, “Who says I didn’t?”
“Oh my god, you didn’t, did you?” Lola panicked.
I burst into a fit of laughter, “I’ll never tell.”