14 Hangover

Date = 6 November

Place = San Francisco (Paws and Claws)

POV - Melaena

Damion took me home.

The thought is trying to sink into my hangover tequila brain. At this very moment, it’s all working against me … the shame, the headache, the nausea, the lack of sleep, my annoying friend … and it all combines to leave me cranky and yearning for my bed.

I’m contemplating turning around and running back to bed and never getting out of it again.

And the sunglasses are not helping. The sun is so bright and the sky so blue, a pleasant wind blowing through my hair — I feel like punching the heartwarming day in the face, grabbing it by its ear, and beating the shit out of it until its heart is a little less warm.

“You look like shit.” Of course, Kiara will disapprove of my current state. You would not catch her dead in public looking like this — jeans, a hoodie, and unbrushed hair bundled in a crow nest on my head, held in place with a clip. And no makeup.

Too bad. She forced me out of bed this morning — way too chirpy for my liking.

“Was it really that bad?” I whimper, wanting to sink into some hole if I think about everything I said. How can I be so brain-dead, telling him how sexy he is to his face? Ug, death, please come take me now.

“Yep, you were crushing a little … but he was so sweet … closing his eyes while helping me to get you dressed. It was unexpected but so bitterly cute I almost melted,” Kiara says in a sugary voice. And for her to go on like this … he must have made an impact.

“Ug, you’re the worst friend ever, making him help you strip me down.” That’s probably the most embarrassing part of all.

“Hey,” she snaps and a very accusing finger gets pointed my way, “You were the one begging him to stay. And you know I have weak arms.” Yeah, right. A weak ankle maybe but there’s nothing wrong with her arms. I’ve seen her easily lift her own weight, and that’s more than me.

Sweet. That man is anything but sweet.

BUT he hadn’t taken advantage of me last night, which meant that despite his cheeky-ass mouth and cocky everything, he was a good guy.

I groan and put my hands on the sides of my temples, squeezing them. Damn, I think my head’s gonna explode.

“Get over it. And if I might add — it’s self-inflicted!” she scolds unsympathetically. I snort, but she’s right. Nobody forced me to down that many shots. I did that all by myself.

“Cheer up, it’s not a death sentence.”

“No, it’s much much worse. You don’t have an annoying stalker and an even more annoying brother’s friend annoying you. And you didn’t say goofy stuff to that same annoying ass because he’s so annoyingly sexy and now he’s going to be even more annoying.” I squint my eyes trying to count how many times I’ve said the word ‘annoying’, but it still doesn’t seem enough.

“You sure you got enough ‘annoyings’ in there?” Crap. A low, undeniably teasing but oh-so-captivating voice says behind me, one that could melt the panties off any sane woman in a heartbeat.

Good thing I’m not that sane today. But it’s bad that he heard my whole rambling diacope.

“Good morning, you annoying hot sexy hunk,” Kiara greets using my words of last night. Her voice is full of bundled-up laughter. So are her eyes. And I wonder how many years in jail one gets for killing their adoptive cousin and if you will get a reduced sentence if you had a really good reason.

“What the hell do you want now? I’m already being punished enough, I don’t need to deal with the likes of you too!” I look at him, eyes blazing — not that he can see them through my glasses. And no, I don’t notice how annoyingly handsome he looks in his jeans and blue shirt.

“Well, ain’t we just a scoop full of grumpy in a bowl of bitchy this morning? And here I come bearing gifts.” I swallow down the lump in my crop and notice the parcel in his hand. Cafe Rosalena. My mouth starts to drool. I frickin love that place.

“I forgive your insult but just because you brought food.” Okay, I was a teeny bit overreacting and a little rude. He stretches out his arm and I grab the parcel from his hand. It smells deliriously, deliciously like breakfast in a roll.

“I was not insulting you, I was describing you, angel.” He steps closer and pulls out a bottle of water. Kiara grabs the bag and runs to a nearby bench.

“Drink this first. The tequila left you dehydrated.” He takes something from his pocket. “And two of these might help.” It’s painkillers. I take the bottle and two pills and nearly down the contents. Not because of what he said, but because I’m thirsty and my head hurts.

“Breakfast burritos!” Kiara shouts. “You’re my frickin hero.” Bitch. She opens up a burrito and takes a big bite. “Mm. Now this is some pretty good stuff.”

“Hey, that’s my food.” I sit down, grab back the bag, and peep inside, taking out a burrito. I take my breakfast burritos seriously and Cafe Rosalena has the best of-the-menu breakfast burritos in California … if not the world.

“No need to fight. I made sure there’s enough.” He smiles, peeping through his long thick black lashes at me, and damn this man for being so perfectly flawless. “I already ate my share.” Great, cause I’m so hungry my legs feel hollow. Don’t judge, I try to eat healthy, but I have a weakness for junk food.

He holds a cup of coffee in his hands and goes back to mainlining his caffeine. I take a big bite of the wrap, sighing in sheer pleasure, enjoying the moment. The perfectly rolled tortilla — stuffed with fluffy egg, heavenly bacon, cheese, and what more — is a little masterpiece that tickles all the right tastebuds.

I suck down the entire thing, drink the rest of the water and start to feel slightly more human. I toss the wrapper and dig out another, gobble down a big bite, and add some coffee this time. The throbbing headache subsides to a dull irritation.

I pop the last of the burrito in my mouth and scrunch up the wrapper. Chewing thoughtfully, I swallow and then suck down some more coffee.

Darn. This was just what I needed.

And he knew.

I get up and throw the wrappers in the trash.

“I need to go. Class is starting.” Kiara nods, still on her first burrito. She swallows and holds up a finger.

“I’ll be there on my usual seat to cheer you on as soon as I finish this.”

“Hey, guys,” someone shouts coming out of reception. It’s Lucinda. And she looks way too cock-a-hoop for this early on a Saturday. Granted, she didn’t drink nearly as much tequila as me … but still. Not sure why, but I have a sudden urge to punch her on her nose.

“What are you doing here?” Kiara asks eating her last bite.

“Oh, I decided to come to check for myself what the fuss is about.” She wiggles her eyes and her glasses nearly drop off her nose.

“I’ve got dips on the blond with the dog,” Kiara says.

“Blond with the dog is off limits. Got it.” Lucinda smiles agreeingly before turning to me.

“Bad night,” she chortles … as if she wasn’t there. I give her a tortured smile.

“The worst.” She laughs and pats me on my arm as if I’m a child.

“So where’s this pen number 3 with the supposed hotties?” She links an arm through mine and pulls me down the narrow pathway. Okay then, it seems our friendship has reached the next level.

“I see your hot-ass brother’s sexy friend is here. Are you two really dating?” I’m not very comfortable with her question for a few reasons … one, I don’t know her that well; two, I don’t like her referring to Logan’s ass; and three, I don’t like hearing how sexy Damion is from other girls.

“No,” I start, “I actually hate him.” Even though he brought me a delicious breakfast. And painkillers. And coffee.

“Well, you don’t have to like someone to have sex with them — I would just use him for an orgasm. I mean, have you seen the man, he’s like perfection on steroids.”

Okay, I just realized I like it even less to hear another girl talk about Damion, sex, and orgasms in the same sentence.

Luckily we’ve reached our destination. The trainers and some of the girls in our group are already inside. I walk through the gate and straight to the puppy enclosure — a mix of Labradors, Retrievers, and Alsatians. The main aim of this class is to assist the puppies with their obedience training so they can be evaluated to determine where they belong — search-and-rescue; service dogs; or working dogs for the K9 units.

My puppy, a black lab female, called Bree, wiggles her little butt excitedly when I pick her up. She licks my chin with that small, rough little tongue, and as I down in the unmistakable sweet milk, popcorn, and biscuits scent of her puppy breath, I know it’s going to be hard to let her go.

“That scent never gets old.” Great, another clairvoyant. Maybe it’s a hot guy thing. Or maybe it’s part of their BEAST 101 training — how to read a woman’s mind.

The masculine voice is getting really familiar.

Alejandro slings a friendly arm over my shoulder. He looks like a fallen dark angel in a military-type way — tall, stoic, and attitude-ridden. It reminds me of another pompous dominating individual who’s now leaning on the fence.

In a pair of well-worn jeans, that fit snugly over his fine body, a blue button-down shirt, untucked and sleeves rolled up, and unruly hair that tends to always fall over his striking face, peeking from underneath a 49ers baseball cap — he is obviously not enjoying himself. Those apple eyes glare at us a little bit like a tiger would before making a kill. And darn, something deep inside me reacts to all that annoying charisma and male confidence.

I try to ignore that, together with him and his badass stare. Instead, I wiggle free and put Bree down on the grass, ready for the class to start.

Adam recruits Lucinda with her own puppy — a little gray Alsatian.

The nippy girl we’ve met on the first day stops next to Damion and says something to him, her face beaming up to his with an I-am-available-and-up-for-anything smile, and then she writes a number on his hand.

It should not matter. But it does. Dammit.

I concentrate on the class. Bree is highly intelligent and eager to learn, especially if treats are involved. Her soft eyes stay on me waiting for a command … and food, and I try to do exactly what Alejandro says and lose track of time.

I look at the fence, but Damion is gone. Probably getting it off with the nippy girl in some closed quarters.

I storm out, right past Alejandro, straight past Kiara flirting with Adam, and right into someone. Strong hands grab my arms, keeping me up.

“Hey, you’re in a hurry.” Noah’s mossy eyes look teasingly into mine. I glare at him and he lets go of my arms, holding his hands up.

“Geez, I swear I didn’t do it on purpose,” he chuckles in an easygoing manner and I remember he’s not the one I want to murder.

“Will you let me live if I stick you for a milkshake?” Noah asks. “The cafe here makes a mean double fudge chocolate cookie dough one.” My mouth water. It’s no secret that anything that contains double fudge or chocolate is my weakness. And this is like both.

“For sure.”

Kiara walks up with Adam and I introduce Noah to her.

“Girl, I’m going on a date.” She gestures with her eyes to Adam. “Can I drop you off at home?” I don’t want to be alone right now. And knowing Kiara, her date will continue through the night.

“No, I’m gonna have a milkshake with Noah. I’ll call an Uber or a brother.” Nothing is going to keep me from having double fudge chocolate.

“We can drop her off,” Noah says and I smile at him. He’s around 6-foot-5 and 190 pounds of freckles with ginger hair and soft green eyes. I would go out on a limb here and say that he’s nothing like the guys we know.

“Great, see you later bitch.” And with a last wave, she’s off … probably to multiple orgasms. Lucky cow.

“Jesse is waiting for us in the cafe,” he says “I was just coming to get D-boy.”

“D-boy?” He cackles and points towards Alejandro, walking towards us, his black Doberman pup, Jinx, now by his side. During puppy classes, the trainers’ dogs lay obediently on one side of the pen.

“That’s what we call him. Alejandro is such a long name you know.” It is.

“But why that?” My nosy butt gets the upper hand.

“They think it’s funny because I was Delta Force,” Alejandro answers himself. “But I guess it’s better than Poochiekins,” he snorts and Noah bellows out a laugh.

“Fuck, I almost forgot about that one … " Noah swivels a look at his friend and smirks. “That was one horse-ass crazy girl.” Okay, this sounds like a story I should hear, because I can’t wantonly envision a girl using the word ‘Poochiekins’ as someone very dangerous.

“Please continue.”

Alejandro’s serious face doesn’t change, but he slides Noah a look only a man can understand. I know those looks. My brothers have like a million of them.

“Susie,” Noah says. “She stayed in the same foster home as my sisters. Pretty little thing, too. And she crushed big time on our boy here. Put everything into the relationship. Even got him a little pet name.”

“Poochiekins?” I ask with a giggle. Noah nods with a big smirk.

“Only there was a tiny communication problem. She thought they were exclusive, while our loverboy here didn’t commit to anything.”

Alejandro rolls his eyes — hard. “There was nothing to commit to. I never slept with her.”

“So Susie did what any not-so-normal girl would do … she tried to convince him that they were meant to be together. In the middle of the night … with cable ties and ducktape.” D-boy snorts.

“She had a fucking knife,” he says rigidly. “You always leniently forget that part.”

“Knife?”

“Yeah, so he claims. He ran away all the way to the Navy without looking back.” Noah leans closer to me as if he’s going to share a secret. “He doesn’t like talking about it.”

“You can be such an asshole, you know.” Okay, maybe I was wrong — they’re just like the guys I know.

“So what happened to Susie?”

“She ended up in juvie for stabbing her foster parent with a knife,” Noah says flatly. I cackle with surprise.

The reception area is large and airy, with wide planked wood floors and top-to-floor window panes, looking over the paddocks, fields, and a sizable man-made lake in the distance. Along the sides are comfortable benches. In the middle is a circular counter, behind which is the hub of the entire place.

A door to the right leads to the cafe where we find Jesse at a cozy table in the corner. I slide in next to him, and Alejandro takes a chair opposite. As soon as he sits down, Jinx — without any command — plops to the floor with a little sigh, head on his front paws, eyes soulful.

Noah comes back with four massive glasses filled over the brim and a long sausage, which he puts in front of Jinx. To my surprise, the puppy doesn’t gobble it down. Instead, he stares at the sausage without even blinking, his tiny body shivering with anticipation.

“Eat,” Alejandro says. Like a speed train, he snarfs it down and licks his chops, then sits and eyes his master hoping for seconds.

“Down.” He hits the floor with what looks like a puppy pout and closes his eyes.

I stare at my shake. Its decadent coats of deliciousness layered on top of each other, a delightful blend of sweet double fudge and creamy chocolate, combined with bites of cookie dough, offering a perfect mix of texture and flavor, which I’m sure is going to become one of my favorites.

I sip through the curly straw and the coldness hits my tongue in an explosion of heavenly sugariness.

“Holy hell, this is so good.” I take another big sip. Yeah, I might become this cafe’s number-one customer.

“Told ya,” Noah smirks.

“I should bring Jackson here. He would murder for the triple toffee cream with strawberries.” Believe it or not, Jackson’s got a sweet tooth like me, but instead of fudge, he loves toffee and strawberries.

Jesse coughs in his drink and jolts his head as if he just saw a ghost.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Eh … Jackson … he’s just a little … eh … intense.” Is he scared of my brother? That’s nothing new. Lots of people are scared of him. “Super hot, but harsh.”

“You know, hidden underneath his tough boy exterior, is a real softy that would risk everything for those he loves.” I defend my brother, but it’s also the truth.

“It’s hidden pretty deep under that pretty-boy exterior then,” Jesse laughs. It hits me like a doornail. Jesse is batting for the other side. “But it’s good to know someone’s got your back.” I stare at the three of them. They seem close. Familiar with each other.

“So how did you guys meet?” Alejandro continues to sip his shake with an impassive expression. Noah pulls a tight lip. So I look at Jesse.

“Noah and I are cousins,” he answers. “And D-boy is our foster brother.” My heart drops. They’re all orphans too.

“What happened to your parents?” Each of them displays a different mournful expression. I’m being too forward. We don’t know each other that well.

“Sorry, that was untactful. I lost my parents too. Luckily we didn’t end up in a foster home, but I suppose the pain is still the same.” There is a beat of stoic silence.

“Let’s talk about something else,” I try to lift the mood I’ve drowned.

“My mom died of cancer,” Alejandro says softly, slowly stirring his drink with the brightly colored curly straw. “And I’ve seen my dad from afar, but I don’t have enough courage to go and actually meet him face to face, yet.”

“Yeah, I keep telling you that you’re a moron,” Noah says softly, “And a chicken.”

“Our parents died on the same day in the same motor accident,” Noah swings a finger between him and his cousin. “I’d give anything to have them back. And you have that, but you don’t grab the opportunity.” I understand where Noah is coming from. I would love to have my mom back. But I’m not so sure about my dad. He just left.

“I understand. He must be an ass like my dad. And no one likes proppers.” My brain-to-mouth filter not working again. My tongue has always been faster than my brain. And although it constantly gets me into trouble, I just can’t control it. Words just pop out before I even know what I’m saying.

“Proppers?” Jesse asks with a blank face.

“Yeah, parents who drop their kids … proppers.”

Alejandro chucks out a comical snort.

“You’re a real treat, Sorella (Italian = sister), do you know that?” I’m not sure if that was a compliment or an insult. So I shut my hub and try to keep it shut by concentrating on my shake.

Noah tells me about his sisters. They were lucky, he says. Although they got separated, the girls ended up in a foster home not too far from theirs. Leyla is just eight and Aria works a few odd jobs to keep them going until he graduates, then he will support both of them. I feel a selfish stab in my heart, realizing that the only thing we have in common is the loss of our parents. I don’t know anything about the suffering they experienced, the hardships they had to go through … are still going through.

I swallow down the knot in my throat and realize that I’ve been so self-absorbed with my own stupid inapt problems that I haven’t noticed I’m living a pillowed life, cushioned from the real world where normal people struggle to survive. I’ve been blind and that hits me … and it hits me hard.