Page 13 of Under the Ink

The band needed to know ASAP, so she needed to make up her damn mind. Even though they’d already thought she was a definiteyes, she hadn’t told them for sure…but she knew she couldn’t keep them hanging.

And she couldn’t help but cling to the hope that Ginny was right…that her marriage wouldn’t change their friendship.

Even then, she’d be living in her friend’s shadow, clinging to her for support when she might not always be wanted.

Shut up!If only Naomi still believed in prayer…she would have asked a higher power for guidance. Instead, she had to figure out what she wanted.

And she had to do it fast.

WINCHESTER, COLORADO

JUNE 5

Naomi’s head was throbbing. It had been a couple of months since she’d had so much to drink that she’d awakened with a hangover—but it did still happen once in a while. That was probably the worst part about Ginny getting married—Naomi had far more alone time.

Which translated into drinking time.

It took her a few seconds to realize there was a pounding on her bedroom door. “I’m leaving, Naomi. If you want a ride, you got two seconds.”

Crap.Naomi picked up her phone to check the time, but it was dead. Apparently, she’d forgotten to charge it the night before.

That explained why her alarm didn’t go off.

“What time is it?”

“Time for you to get a watch.”

Damn it. Diane always thought she was a bit of a comedian, especially when there wasn’t anything to joke about. Naomi was already out of bed, sliding on a fresh pair of underwear and trying to locate a bra. “My phone’s dead.”

“It’s six-thirty. I gotta go.”

“Two minutes.”

When Naomi’s head started pounding again, a wave of nausea caused her stomach to lurch. All her jeans were dirty, so she rifled through the pile to find the least offensive pair, pushing against the vomiting sensation. Then she found a work shirt and pulled it over her head.

But when she looked in the mirror, yikes.

Pulling open the door, she made her way toward the bathroom. Diane was standing by the front door, wide-eyed. Naomi said, “One more minute!”

While she peed, she pulled a comb through her hair, deciding to ask Diane if she could borrow her phone on the way to work. Dan could handle the early morning by himself—after all, they’d all done it before—but he was probably waiting for Naomi so he could sit and enjoy a muffin while perusing the paper like he usually did.

Afteryelling at her for being late again, of course, because the man seemed to enjoy inflicting verbal abuse upon his employees. So, at least if she called, he might be over it by the time she got there.

With lightning speed, she brushed her teeth, ignoring the nausea. “Bye!” came Diane’s voice from the other room, closing the door to their apartment. That stupid girl.

Sighing, Naomi thought some of banging on her other roommate’s door to see if instead she could give her a ride—but the girl had probably just gotten to bed an hour earlier, thanks to her job.

Naomi couldn’t bring herself to do it. Maybe she could make it downstairs before Diane actually left—so she took a washcloth to her face to remove the black makeup that had smeared. But she didn’t have time to put on more.

Running back to her bedroom, she grabbed socks and shoes and the dead phone and ran out of her apartment and down the splintery stairs—but as soon as she got to the sidewalk, she saw Diane’s red car at the stop sign at the end of the block, way too far to just run and jump in.

Bitch.

It would be nice to not have to rely on another soul—and definitely to not have roommates in a crappy apartment. But such was life.

Fine.

If she hadn’t felt so damn sick, she would have jogged to work—but that wasn’t going to happen. So she walked quickly, stopping just once to pause and puke off the curb. Even though it tasted of alcohol, she felt lots better after.

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