Vendetta

Chapter Twenty One: Hauling His Drunk Ass to Boston

It's only after getting a handful of scratches on my face, and a dozen heeled shoes to my toe that I finally reach the front row of the spectators who are eagerly watching Christian Beneventi live on Magic Mike.

Christian now flexes his biceps, almost falling from the bar counter. He is drunk too, totally wasted. His body moves tipsily in tune to the music, rolling his hips, rather sexily.

I don't want to stop him. It's funny watching him, and I want to join the league of girls crazily videotaping him, though for different reasons. But as appealing the idea was, I resist and will myself forward.

'Christian?'

He pays no attention to me, though I have the attention of all the others. I should've let Jared come get him.

I try again. 'Christian, baby?'

Christian stops suddenly and looks down at me. His pupils are heavily dilated, and I know he's a goner.

'Coral, Coral, darling?'

I want to gag, but I raise my arms to him. 'Come down, sweetheart. Let's go.'

Christian pouts, and he looks adorably cute. 'But I want to dance.'

I am about to open my mouth, when someone beats me to it.

'He wants to dance, so let him dance.'

'Yeah. Stop ruining our fun, bitch.'

I am about to hit her in her silicon chumbawombas, when Christian jumps off the counter and pulls me to his chest.

'She's my girlfriend. How dare you call her a bitch, bitch?'

The crowd gasps, and I struggle to pull myself away from sweaty Christian without physically hurting him.

'If she tells me to stop, I stop.' He looks at me, tucking my hair behind my ear. 'Let's go.'

I nod and pick his shirt from the table. Christian takes a wobbly step forward, then another, then another and then:

'Ooops.'

I catch him mid-fall. I lug him up easily, and throw his hand over my shoulder, curling my own hand around his waist. The guys look impressed, though the girls stare in wonder at how I managed to heave a heavy man onto me. Jared is, thankfully, just where I left him, though his bottle is empty now.

'Come on, Jared. Let's go. Gimme the keys.'

Jared gets up obediently and hands me the keys to his Camaro. He throws his hand over my shoulder too, and I wrap my left hand around him. It is quite the sight as we leave the party; I am lugging two drunk guys, twice my size, out of the club.

'Hey Jared,' Christian stage whispers loudly. 'My girlfriend is so strong.'

'I am going to throw you down and kick you where the sun doesn't shine.'

'And she is so angry. But she's hot when she's angry.'

I pull him up sharper, but they both hang on me like deadweights. I pull up to the Camaro, and throw Jared to the backseat.

'I want to drive.' Christian curls onto my arm strongly, refusing to let go.

'Christian, you are drunk.'

'No. I am not. I am the DD!'

'And what does that mean?'

'Don't Drink.'

'Wrong answer.'

'You'll let me drive if I get it correct?'

'I'll think about it.'