Page 60 of Love's Hot

***

“What’s that noise?” I grumble. I try to pull my pillow over my ears.

It’s so loud.

Good, it’s stopped.

Then it starts up again. “Shut up!” I yell, this time trying to open my eyes to work out what the hell is going on. “Bad idea.” I squint at the sunshine peeking in through the curtains in my bedroom. “I’m never drinking again.”

Sitting up very slowly, suddenly the noise starts screeching again. I put my hands over my ears to shield from the pain. On a normal day, this noise would be loud but on a hungover Monday morning, it’s killing me. Stumbling to my feet, I go in search of what it is.

I can hear voices and noise in my kitchen and the smell of food. Not sure my stomach is happy about that, but I’m holding it together, barely.

“Jesus, woman, I give you one job. Get your sorry hungover backside over there on the stool and let me handle this,” I hear Xavier swat Alesha on the butt as she giggles.

It all makes sense now with the noise. My smoke alarm is touchy and if Alesha is cooking toast then it’s going off at her charcoal-toasting techniques.

“Morning,” I mumble as I stagger into the kitchen. “Can we keep it down to a dull roar?”

Xavier laughs out loud. “Another sore head. Sympathy factor zero. All self-inflicted, just like your sister. You should have seen me trying to get you home last night and into bed. I’m the one who needs sympathy for putting up with drunk Lilly who never stopped crying. Plus, blame Alesha for the smoke alarm. I gave her one job. Apparently, that’s too hard this morning.”

“Xavier.” I glare at him. “Shut. Up.” His constant talking is killing my head.

“Wow, you take the prize for the most hungover between you two, then. Sit your ass next to your sister. You both need to eat to soak this alcohol out of your systems before you face work.”

“Urgh,” we both groan together. “Can’t we call in sick? I know the boss. He’ll be okay,” I plead.

“Pfft, you must still be drunk. You’ve mixed up your brother with an alien if you think Grant will approve a sick day because you’re hungover. Nice try, sunshine. Now start drinking, food will be ready in a minute when I remake the toast, courtesy of drunk twin number two over there.” He pushes a mug of coffee in front of me and Alesha pushes the tablets at me for my headache.

Today already needs to be over and it has only just started.

***

“You got the story straight? We had to drop past the wedding dress shop for a quick fitting, that’s why we’re late. Right?” I look at Alesha’s face and know she’s going to screw this up. She can’t lie to save herself. Not even a little white lie.

“Never mind. You say nothing and just nod as I do the talking, okay? Do not make eye contact with Grant, otherwise you know he’ll call us out.”

“Why can’t we just tell the truth?” Alesha looks at me with her goody-two-shoes face.

“Because they’ll all ask why we got drunk on a Sunday. I don’t want to tell them. I don’t want anyone to know. Got it!?” I’m getting a little heated now.

“Okay, okay. I’ll just follow. Just don’t ask me to talk.”

We both make a beeline for our office. Not looking to talk to anyone or make eye contact. Maybe no one will actually notice we’re late. The office is quiet which is unusual. Normally there’s activity and voices coming from one of the boys’ offices or they’re yelling at each other between offices. I mean, why use the expensive telephone intercom system we have?

Zoe comes out from Zach’s office and makes me jump as she says good morning.

“Oh, hey Zoe.” I keep walking when she stops me dead in my tracks.

“Why aren’t you girls in the boardroom for the family meeting? Are you taking a break? You’ve had enough of those boys and it’s only been an hour?”

Fuck! is all I can think.

What meeting? I didn’t schedule any meeting in the calendar. I look at Alesha who also looks lost. She shrugs her shoulders and we casually head into our office and scramble trying to get the computers loaded to check the emails and calendars.

Keyboard keys are clacking, and pens and papers are being shoved across the desks.

“Shit, Grant sent an email last night about an emergency meeting this morning. Who expects people to check work emails on a Sunday night?” I curse, picking up my folder and pen.

---