Page 33 of My So-Called Perfect Life
“I thought I was in for a night of fun, and all I got out of it was an STD and a burning vag! That’s right ladies, this man gave me chlamydia!”
She pokes me in the chest again, but this time I grab her by the wrist then pull her toward the back office. “I have no idea what the hell you are talking about, but we certainly aren’t going to discuss it in the middle of the bar.”
“Why?” She scoffs, trying to pull her hand out of my grip. “Don’t want your next victim to hear?”
I wrangle her in the room and close the office door behind us before turning toward her. “No, because I don’t have chlamydia, nor did I give it to you.”
She narrows her eyes in a scowl as she crosses her arms over her chest. “I woke up naked and alone in some strange loft. No note from you. Nothing. You pumped and dumped. And my vagina was perfectly disease-free until I slept with you two weeks ago. Coincidence? I don’t think so.”
Wonderful. In all of my twenty-eight years, I’ve made sure to keep my dick clean. Looks like tomorrow, I’ll be stopping in at the clinic because if she has it, then there’s a damn good chance I do as well.Fuck me. Two seconds inside her bare pussy is going to cost me.
I guess it could be worse. At least it isn’t warts or syphilis or herpes.
“Look,” I sigh, running my hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, but you didn’t get it from me. I’ve never had an STD. I do get checked every six months, and I’ve never had a single thing come back. I hate to say this, but your ex was cheating on you. Isn’t it more likely you got it from him?”
She cocks her hip to the side and plants her hand on it. “He was cheating on me for a while. I didn’t get anything until I slept with you. Is that why you didn’t want me to leave and find someone else that night? Do you enjoy spreading shit around to unsuspecting women? What the hell is wrong with you?”
I just stare at her with no clue what I’m supposed to say or do. This is not a situation I ever thought I would be in. I might be a bit of a ladies’ man, but I’m careful. I don’t want any little Ryans running around the city with random women. Even if a woman tells me she’s on her own birth control, I still use a condom. Danielle caught me off guard. She shoved me down on the couch and had me inside her before I could even get the wordcondomout.
“No,” I say gently since it seems she’s a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. “I asked you to stay because I’m attracted to you and wanted to spend the night with you. No other motives. I’m not sure what you want me to do here. I’m going to have to get tested myself, but I honestly think you’re blaming the wrong guy.”
She steps closer to me. “I don’t—” Her words cut off, and she pauses for a moment.
The color of her skin changes right in front of me as her own eyes widen just before she bends over and throws up. The projectile vomit sprays my jeans before hitting the floor with a slap.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Not the kind of exploding I was expecting.
Danielle looks a bit dizzy. Ignoring the puke covering me and the floor, I guide her over to the small sofa against the wall.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Her forehead breaks out in a sweat, and she looks like she could be sick again.
She shakes her head. “I don’t feel so good.”
I take the trash bin and place it down next to her before grabbing a few new bar rags from the box in the corner. I wipe my pants down the best I can before I head out onto the floor to get her friends.
The two ladies are still sitting at the same spot at the bar. “You two came with Danielle, right? She could use a little help.” I nod in the direction of my office.
They follow me back as they glance between one another.
When I open the door, we are slapped in the face with the stench of vomit. One of the women gags. “Oh shit. That’s foul.”
Danielle is lying across the tiny couch, clutching the trash bin that I don’t think any vomit actually made it into. The small room reeks.
The brunette holds her nose. “I told her she should chill with mixing shots and medication.”
“Danielle,” the other one says. “Honey, are you okay?”
Danielle moans an undecipherable word before this time heavingintothe trash bin.
“We need to get her home,” the dark-haired one says to the other.
“You want me to hail you a cab?” I ask, eager to get them out of here. I’ve had some weird nights, but this one takes the cake. Being a bar owner, this isn’t the first time I’ve been puked on. But usually it’s by some kid who was dumb enough to try the Relishness— a shot of Goldschlägger with a dollop of relish on top. It’s certainly not the first time someone’s made a scene in my bar. But this is the first time the scene was about me. I like to keep my life drama-free. But this whole situation is drama overload. I need to get them out of here so I can think straight.
“Nah,” the blonde one says. “I’ll call an Uber.”
“Are you sober enough to get home?” As ready as I am to get them out of here, I’m not going to let them leave if they can’t be safe.
