The club is loud.Louder than I ever thought a place like this could be. I’ve never been to a club before, and I do not know how on earth I ended up here. I just came out for a drink. Initially, I was thinking of visiting the bar where Lemon works, but then again, I realized that if I do that, I’d have to socialize with him. And while I normally valued our time together, I didn’t want to talk about what happened today. The guilt was already starting to sink in, and there was nothing more I wanted to do than just get wasted out of my mind and forget my entire identity for a moment.And so, I initially went to a bar and had a couple several shots of whiskey, I went there, sat down next to the bar, and threw back the shots like it was god’s own lifeblood until I felt a little less than dying, thank God I’d come out of my lightweight status after all this time of drinks, and somehow two people migrated towards me. Apparently, they were feeling sorry for me, and they didn’t want people to
A groan rips through my throat as I register the early morning rays warming the skin of my face, and just as the world starts to come back to me, I feel the ache in my head.Well, calling it an ache would be too fucking generous given how my head feels like it’s about to break open, what the hell?My hands automatically go to clutch my head as I turn to the side and bury my nose in the pillow beneath my head. Vaguely I realize that it’s a nice-smelling pillow, very cold from the air conditioning in the room. But the smell is strange, not like the pillow I’m used to. The fabric softener used to do all the laundry at my father's house has a little sandalwood smell, but this one smells like lavender and cream. The fabric softener was from an exotic brand and my father had specifically asked the housekeeper to use it, the housekeeper told me herself once I asked.So how is it possible that the pillow smells different? Did the housekeeper change the fabric softener? Strange, considering ho
“Did we use protection?!” she repeats in a much more startled tone. I feel all the blood rush out from my body at that question.“I don’t know,” I reply, feeling quite restricted and unable to flee, although my most base instinct is to flee, “I don’t remember anything about last night, I don’t even know who you are and how I ended up here, and I honestly don’t even know if we did anything!”“Then what the fuck is this?!” The woman screams and pushes the two fingers she had, I assume, stuck in her downstairs in order to get the sample.“I don’t know!” I reply, scrambling to my feet in order to find my clothing. And oh, God, they’re just tossed everywhere! My pants had somehow been lodged on a lamp, my underwear is caught under the leg of the bed, and my shirt was on the back of the chair near the small desk. The room looks like it belongs to a very low-grade hotel and is that mold I can see growing on the wall?!How on earth did I end up here? How far away from the nightclub is this p
After we get dressed without trying to catch one another in the eye we get the hell out of the room. The rest of the hotel looks just as stingy as the room, and the strangest thing is that the lavender and cream smell follows me. Earlier I thought it was from the bed, now I’m starting to realize that the people maintain the hotel, which is quite a generous term to allocate to whatever the cleaners and the management are doing here, might just have pumped some air spray all over the corridors and whatnot to keep away the smell of the mold. I don’t feel like being cranky about that much because it’s quite nice.Anyway, we make our way to the front desk of the hotel, passing a disturbing number of couples who are coming out of the room in various forms of emotion, some angry, some disgusted, some mortified, some indifferent, and some looking genuinely happy and satisfied, to join the din.Oh, ok. So this is that type of hotel then. Where they might advertise rooms for lodging, but in act
“Drugged?” Estelle repeats, “Are you talking about things like date rape drugs? What!? Are you serious?”“100%,” I say, "I mean, think about it. Neither of us knows what happened to us, both of us have major black holes in our memories after drinking. We don't know what happens after we drank that one drink, we do not even know who got it for us and then the next thing you know we wake up next to each other on a bed naked. Looking like we'd slept together, but neither of us remember any of that.”"Yeah, but that doesn't mean we were drugged," Estelle insists, "maybe we were sort of in that we didn't remember what we did l last night,” she tries to reason, and although it frustrates me that she's trying to say this is our own fault when it looks like it clearly was not. I can't understand what compels her to say so. I mean who wants to admit that they had been drunk in that nightclub people shame victims for things like this saying that there are too many. Estelle might be afraid of th
“Jace, what’s wrong?” Estelle asks, looking quite alarmed, “You paled like a vampire when the receptionist said that name, and I know it’s not your name, but the surname is the same. Did they catch your name wrong? Did you slur it too much when we registered into the room last night?”“I couldn’t have said that name,” I tell her, “That…that would be disgusting and plain weird. Joseph Greyson is my father.”Estelle looks taken aback, “I’m sorry, what?”“That’s what I’m saying,” I reply, “Joseph Greyson is my dad's name and there is no way in hell that I’d give his name to a place like this even if I’m blackout drunk! I mean, I don’t like dropping his name in normal circumstances, why would I do it when I’m trying to score some with a girl?!”“Hey!” Estelle squawks, indignant.“Sorry, sorry, but you get what I mean, right?”“Why are you afraid to talk about your dad?” Estelle asks instead of dignifying that with a response. “Are you embarrassed by him or something?”“No, no, of course n
“You mean to tell me,” Gerald questions calmly, “that you went to a nightclub after getting wasted in a bar, slept with a random girl who wasn’t using birth control, did not think of using protection, somehow lost your wallet, and now you’re afraid that you might have gotten her pregnant?”“Yes, I am,” I sigh, “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”“No, you didn’t,” Gerald agrees, “no one means for stupidity to happen to them, they just walk right into it.”“I wasn't there to sleep with a girl, honest,” I insist, “I just wanted to have a drink and forget everything, okay? I was mad and pissed, and sad if I’m being honest. I was so tired. I just wanted to forget.”Gerald holds my eyes for a moment, and I distantly wonder what he sees there. Does he notice the misery I have emanating from me? Does he notice how fidgety I am? Does he notice how desperately I need a drink so I could get my nerves settled? We’re sitting in a car right outside the bank after coming here to get all my fi
“I’ve got to take this,” I tell Gerald and before he could answer, I take the call, “Hello, Estelle.”“Oh, hello, Jace. For a moment there I was afraid that you’d given me the wrong number, but I’m very glad you didn’t.” Estelle replies with no hesitation whatsoever, “Anyway, did you get the card issue fixed?”“Um, yes,” I say, “it’s all fixed. Just came out of the bank, actually.”“Oh, great, great. Did you have any damage? Did anyone drain you of your accounts?”“Uh, no, nothing like that. Not sure about the actual cash though.”“Oh, good.”“Yeah.”“Awesome.”“Not really?” Is it me or was this getting awkward? And why am I smelling lavender and cream again? Was this phantom memory smell or something? “I mean, this whole thing just kind of sucks. I need to get new identification information too, a new social security card, get a new wallet…you know, all this stuff that I need to exist as a legal citizen here.”“Oh, yeah, right.” Estelle replies, “Well, I called to tell you that I tal