It’s not often I get drunk, but after seeing what I saw through that window, I made Julian pull over at a liquor store.
Vodka and pineapple juice have never been more satisfying as we sit in the hotel room, and it glides down my throat in an ice-cold sendoff to oblivion. Perhaps it would’ve been wiser to talk and process my father's double life, but I've never claimed to make intelligent decisions. Or maybe we should have banged on the door and demanded answers from him.
Except, we ran.
And now I’m drunk, and Julian is sober as he babysits me. He even confiscated my phone. I’m on the bed with all the pillows stacked behind me while Julian lays horizontally at the opposite end. The Warriors basketball game is on, and every once in a while, he’ll glance over his shoulder at me. Flickers from the TV cast shadows across his face, and he can pretend he’s paying attention to the score, but I know concern when I see it.
“I need my phone.”
“No, you don’t,” Julian replies.
“I need to call Moses.”
“Not with all that slurring you’re doing.”
“I’m not slurring,” I say and can hear the delay in the delivery of my words. Not to mention I’m having a hard time focussing on Julian’s face. “He’s probably worried since he hasn’t heard from me.”
“He’ll survive.”
“Damn it, Julian! I’m not a child. Give me my phone.” I fling myself across the mattress and attack him like an octopus wrapping my limbs around him.
“Jesus, woman!”
“Give me my phone!”
In my inebriated state of mind, this appeared like a solid plan. However, Julian is bigger than me and manages to smother me into the mattress with his back.
“You done?”
“No!” I squirm but can barely wiggle my feet.
“Well, I’m quite comfortable like this, staring at the ceiling with your scrawny self pancaked underneath me. I could probably doze off.”
“Just please give me the phone so I can at least text Moses.”
“No. You can text him in the morning.”
“Gah, what is it with you and him! Are you jealous or something?”
“Jealous?” With that, Julian rolls off me and cackles while holding his stomach. “Oh, please. He’s average, at best, and looks like a two-pump chump.”
“You would say that,” I slur and prop myself up with arms that feel like sandbags and gelatin all at once. “You are so arrogant sometimes.”
“Listen, not everyone can be blessed with these tall, dark, and handsome good looks.”
“Oh, please. You might be attractive, but don’t assume you’re better looking than Moses. He is a very handsome guy and great in bed.”
“Define great.” Julian taps his chin.
“I’m not talking to you about my sex life.”
“Why not? I tell you about mine.”
“And maybe you shouldn’t.”
“Whatever. Moses can’t be that exciting if you’re unwilling to brag about it. But what can I say? Not all men are gifted in the art of thrusting.”
“What’s your deal? You wanted me to hook up with Moses the night at Casanova, and now you can’t stand him.”
“I don’t give a shit about that clown,” he laughs.
YOU ARE READING
The Disappearance of Valentina Moreno
Mystery / ThrillerOn a crisp, fall morning, Valerie Rossi is stopped by a stranger, asking if she's Valentina Moreno--a child who went missing in Yosemite National Park twenty years ago. Curious, Valerie's friend Julian looks up the age progression photo recently sh...
