Page 52 of The Blackmail of Denise Randall

THE GIFT

Ijolt awake and immediately cry out. My head is killing me. Despite the pain, I have to get to the bathroom. I jump out of bed and immediately run into a wall. What the hell? Where did my bathroom door go?

“Denise?”

If I wasn’t feeling so sick, I’d be freaking out right about now. I look around and find a door. I rush through it, and thank God, it’s a bathroom. I vomit what feels like forever.

“Denise? Oh shit. Here let me go get you something.”

Why is Keaton here? Where is here?

Once I’ve finished puking my guts out, I collapse on the tile floor. Keaton returns with a pill and glass of water. Oh yes! Thank you!

“It’s Advil.”

Shit. I was hoping for something a little stronger.

I take it, grateful for anything that will stop the pain in my head. He helps me up and carries me back to the bed. I collapse on the soft sheets and immediately fall back to sleep.

At some point, I finally stir again. That was one hell of a hangover. I still don’t think I feel right. I roll over and feel a warm body next to me. Oh God. I didn’t have sex for the first time while unconscious, did I? Who am I with?

“It’s me,” Keaton whispers. “I feel you tensing up. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

“Did we?”

“No.” I feel hurt, and it must show on my face because he quickly says, “Denise, I wouldn’t do that to you. You’ve been out of it. Last night you were reckless and wild. Since six this morning, you’ve been in and out, running to the bathroom and throwing up. Sometimes you cuddle up next to me and sometimes you shrivel away. Your eyes look normal now at least.”

“Thank you for taking care of me. I must’ve caught something.”

“No—you didn’t catch anything. You took something.”

I roll over giving him my back. He doesn’t say anything else and neither do I. After a few minutes, he whispers, “My dad died of a drug overdose. Last night, I walked back into the living room and I thought you were dead. I almost called the ambulance but then you groaned. I told you I was going to get help, but you begged me not to. I knew you were out of it, but I still listened to you. I brought you into the guest bedroom. You moaned a few times and got really hot. I put a cold wash cloth on you a couple of times. I thought that was going to be the worst of it. But then you just kept throwing up. Sometimes you were passed out so hard that you didn’t move and I wasn’t sure you were still breathing. Your skin kept turning an ash gray. I’ve never been so scared in my life…except for the night I came home and found my dad in a pool of his own vomit.” He swallows hard then continues, “I thought you were going to choke on yours. Or get too dehydrated. Or just die. Your heart would stop because of the drugs—I don’t know!” His voice breaks, along with my heart. I roll over and hug him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about your dad and for bringing back those horrible memories. But Keaton,” I turn his face toward mine, “I’m okay.”

He pushes my hand away from his face. “No. You’re. Not.”

He jumps out of bed and leaves the room. I’m left confused at why he is so worked up. I get it that I brought back bad memories, but why does Keaton care so much if I die? He barely knows me. Is it because it would’ve been here?

I find my phone on the night stand and read my messages.

R: I am thinking about you.

R: Are you okay? Late night?

Alice: Keaton called. I covered for you with Mom and Dad. Call me ASAP. We need to talk.

Trent: Alice said you’re staying with her tonight and you’re sick. Are you okay? How much did you drink?

Alice: I also lied to Trent. I’m not comfortable with this.

It’s not like I asked you to, Alice. Ugh. I lean my head back on the pillow. I press call, and Alice answers right away.

“Denise?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank God you’re okay. I came by once to check on you. I wanted to take you to the hospital, but Keaton and I went back and forth on how much trouble you’d be in.”

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