Page 70 of See Her

I stab the UP button and wait impatiently for the doors to open so that I can try a take two of making the not obligatory but highly suggested appearance at the after party, and hopefully knock back just enough drinks to make this night end more quickly.

When the doors open, I step in and push the button for the penthouse, jamming my hands back in my pockets as the doors start closing. Before they can meet each other in the middle, however, there’s a jolt, and they jerk open again as Josh pushes through the small space. Once in the car, we have another brief stare off before he gives me a faint nod and mirrors my position as the doors close all the way this time.

I don’t offer anything back, as we haven’t spoken since Mayzie left. My anger with him has dissipated but not vanished. I’m not blind, however, to Josh’s own personal non-verbal language, and I know what he’s doing. He’s trying, which is fine. Let him try.

When the elevator pings and the doors part, I’m off and making a second attempt at heading to the bar.

A couple of people are already passed out, and the place is overpopulated with females, some of whom have already lost their tops.This is ridiculous.

I dodge chatty girls and strung-out party goers, and when I reach the bar, I pay no mind to Josh at my side in one way or another. I ask for a couple of shots of Johnnie Walker, and when he passes the tumbler to me I slam the contents back, as Matt turns up at my other side.

I don’t acknowledge him either, but I sense the solemn concern coming off him in waves. And as much as I’m trying to have tunnel vision and block everything else out so that I don’t go insane, I can tell in my peripheral there’s some kind of quiet exchange going on between my two bandmates.

I turn and lean back against the bar, just taking in the chaos around me.After the burning in my stomach from the alcohol dissipates, I realize the lonely ache in my chest faded just a little bit with it, so I order another…

34

MAYZIE

Annie talked me into dressing up and heading out for a night of dancing. She has a special degree in All-Things-Mayzie, and while I was reluctant at first, I felt a bit more motivated after she put me in a dashing blue dress and full makeup.

Once we were both satisfactorily decked out, she proceeded to take us to a midtown nightclub, got a few drinks in me, and was my bodyguard while we danced in the dark but dazzlingly euphoric atmosphere.

The alcohol helped dim the loneliness, and the endorphins helped chase away my somber mood just enough to keep it on the outskirts of my personal orbit. My only complaint was that the bitch took away my phone so that I wouldn’t keep checking it for calls from Jack. She promised to let me know if it rang, and another shot or two had me worrying less about it.

Now, however…

Now, my thoughts towards Annie are that she’s Satan.

Okay, in all fairness, I vaguely remember her putting me to bed with water and aspirin, but it’s her fault I needed that turn-down service.

She meant well, trying to get my mind off things for the night, but as I lay here with my head plastered to my pillow, my mushybrain matter can’t seem to decide if it was worth it. Probably not.

After a lot of psyching myself up, two failed attempts at sitting up, and tripping over one of my discarded heels, I’ve made it to the kitchen and finally, my remedy is currently brewing, percolating and dripping torturously slowly into the pot.

The dogs are whining and pawing at me, and I’m so weak from my excursions, they almost knock me over. After letting our two beloved canines out to pee, I unceremoniously pour kibble into their bowls, spilling little nuggets all around. I should not have gotten up. I lean across my counter and start scrolling through my phone to pass the time until I can pour coffee into a mug.

I immediately see a missed call from Jack last night that looks like it came in around the time Annie and I were in the car on the way to the club. I want to get pissy at her for not telling me, but a potent little memory breaks through the fog of her confiscating my phone and throwing it in her purse without looking at it.

After dialing my voicemail, I listen to the deep, velvety rasp of my husband’s voice.

Hi, sweetheart, it’s me. Just wanted to be able to talk to you some more. It was kind of a shitty night on stage and I’m just missing my girl. Also… I’m not feeling good about what we talked about earlier, and I’m a little worried that’s why you’re not answering. Call me back when you can so we can talk about it. I love you.

I let out a long sigh at his message before disconnecting voicemail. His words make my heart ache in both happy and sad ways. I would call him back, but he’s most likely asleep at this early hour. I’ll let him know later that we will work through it.

I know as long as I can feel his love for me across the miles, it will be okay.

After taking another cleansing breath, I go back to perusing my social media. A radiant photo of Annie and me decked out last night pops up in my feed, posted by the demon herself, and it makes me quirk a half smile. Despite my current state, I like knowing that I was out enjoying myself for a night.

More photos of friends and random celebrity news continue to fly across my phone screen as I continue scrolling and swiping when an image catches my eye, and I quickly swipe back to it. When it’s centered back on my screen, I notice instantly why it caught my attention.

I study the unexpected photo of my husband with both my mind and vision still fuzzy, but when it comes into focus, I feel every blood cell in my veins slow to a stop as my stomach drops and I feel momentarily dizzy.

Clumsily setting my phone down, I take a moment to rub my eyes and get the room to stop spinning.

I’m hungover, and who knows, probably still half-drunk. I didn’t really just see what I think I did…

After taking a few deep breaths and centering myself, I pick the phone back up to further examine its context.

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