Reach it? Kill me before it knocks me out? Force me to vomit in both our laps?
I gently grab her arm and remove her hand from my esophagus.
With a deliberate look of concern plastered across my face, I ask, “Are you saying that you drugged me?”
Her face is incredulous. “I’m saying that YOU drugged you. I took that drink off a guy who was trying to give it to his date. The cops are on the way.”
“Do I tell them that you drugged me?”
I know she sees something in my face now because her expression becomes skeptical.
“No. You need to get to a hospital, though.”
“No.”
Her brows furrow. “No?”
“No. I don’t want to go to the hospital. I hate hospitals. You drugged me, and now you’re going to have to take care of me.”
Macy’s face falls, and so does her once-rigid upper body. Her back hits the edge of the bar as she looks up at my face. Now her expression is full of disbelief, and dare I say, awe?
“You got me.” She says it with surrender and amazement. She says it so quietly that I wouldn’t have heard it in the earlier crowd, and I barely hear it now when there’s no one beside us.
“I got you.” I say this while attempting to disguise the overwhelming joy and triumph that I feel.
She nods slowly as she continues to look at me as though I’m something entirely new, and she isn’t quite sure what to make of it yet. She’s still seated in my lap, straddling me and, since she’s no longer trying to asphyxiate me, I am once again the happiest I have ever been.
“So how do you propose that I take care of you?”
“You’re going to have to take me home with you.”
Her face instantly morphs into unbridled fury. “You think I’m going to have sex with you?!”
Oh shit.
I hadn’t thought through how that would sound. I rush the words out before this can get any worse. “No, no, no. No sex. I swear that’s not what I meant. I just meant you will have to be with me tonight in case I convulse or vomit or something. I could get sick in my sleep, and you need to be there to wake me up or roll me over. I promise you I didn’t mean that how it sounded. I will remain fully clothed. I just said home with you because I thought you’d be more comfortable there than at my house.”
She looks at me warily.
This is not my favorite look, yet she keeps giving it to me. I want the rainbow smile back. Where did that thing go?
“We likely only have about twenty minutes or so before I’m fully unconscious, so I think we should go. You know I wouldn’t be stupid enough to hurt you. You’ve all seen my credit card and know my name. I can leave my license with one of your friends there if it makes you feel better.” I reach into my back pocket and pull out my wallet. Handing her my license, I watch as she scrutinizes it before turning to one of the other bartenders.
“Jax.” The one with dark hair walks over to us. They had both been watching the whole scene play out, and he’s trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile.
“What’s up?” He says this in a voice that I know isn’t his normal tone. It’s high pitched because he’s holding back a laugh. Macy notices too because she spears him with a harsh glare.
“I have to take Elijah here back to my apartment because he roofied himself.”
“Ah, she roofied me, actually. She brought me the drink.” I quickly correct her.
She whips her head back to me. “I set the drink out of your reach beside the sink. How was I to know that you-” she cuts off her words and lets out a heavy breath while massaging her temples. Jax nearly loses his composure and covers his mouth with both hands.
Macy continues speaking. “Never mind. Jax, will you please take his license? If I don’t check in, send the police to my apartment.”
Jax is markedly more poised when he tells her, “You got it. No check-in, call the police.” He sends her a salute that would get a real soldier court marshaled. That’s a possible exaggeration, but the salute is bad.
“Let’s go, boozer.”
