Maggie's Five ...the first in a LOVE story (12 page)

“
Aren’t you home already Luke?” I hang up and turn off the
phone before he has a chance to answer. I couldn’t bare it if he
told me that he is.

Then I close my
sore eyes and let the silent tears flow freely. I don’t even have
the energy to make a sound when I cry anymore. I’m so sick of
myself. So sick and tired of being me.

Eventually I
lift the tightly clutched phone to inspect the blacked out screen
and absently glide my thumb over it, pressing it to the side of the
casing and turn it on. It chimes countless times indicating missed
calls and incoming texts. They’re mostly from Luke, a few from Jon
as well. He’s overseas on location, so I know he can’t come barging
into my house uninvited for the next few weeks at least, and I like
that. I like that they can’t jump back into my life and take over
now that they’ve left me.

I don’t bother
with the voicemails or reading the messages. I just scroll though
my contacts list repeating the word “no” out loud every time I stop
on a name, tagging the person who once told me they were here for
me and are now not, until I come across one I completely forgot
about. Honestly, I didn’t know it was in there.

Thinking of him
reminds me that I’m allowed to drink and that I think I want to, so
why the hell not? I untangle my legs, tripping as I leave the
bedroom; run my hands through my bird’s nest of hair to loosen the
clumps and head to the liquor cabinet. It’s in the living room so
maybe I need to start living after all.

I wrap my
fingers around the first bottle of clear liquid I see and take a
sparkling clean glass from the cupboard above my head. I have to
reach up on my toes, and it hurts. One feels like it could be
broken.

I pour a good
slosh, filling the glass half way and tip it down my throat without
a seconds thought. It burns like a bitch and makes me recoil,
releasing a strangled gasp. I do it again and again. Ha, maybe I
should do it in lots of three, three quick drinks, take a breather,
then three more drinks. It works for Joe right? So I do. But I’m
not sure if it’s working, I’m getting pretty drunk, pretty freaking
fast.

I swallow the
last of my countless thirds when I notice my mobile resting on the
shiny black surface. I pick up the phone and swipe my thumb to the
right, put it on loud speaker and listen to it ring.

I’m about to
hang up when a male voice carries through the small speaker. “Well
fuck me six ways ‘til Sunday, I never thought I would see your name
flash across my screen, sweetheart.”

I laugh at his
opener. “Me neither, my friend. You are still my friend,
right?”

“
Fuck
yeah. I’m your best friend sweetheart. What you up to?”

“
I
was going to ask you the very same thing Red.” I’m slurring as I
speak, but I don’t care.

“
I’m
working at the bar for another couple hours. Why don’t you swing by
so we can pick up where we left off?”

I look down at
my clothes and wipe a hand down my front. The wrinkles aren’t that
bad. “Sounds like a plan. Give me thirty?”

“
I’ll
give you as long as you need, sweetheart,” Red says oozing sex
before hanging up on me.

God, did he miss
his calling as a voice over guy. Hell I’d buy whatever he’s
selling.

Tossing the
phone to the counter, I down three more shots then run/stumble
upstairs, holding onto the banister for balance, then trip my way
to the bathroom. I run my fingers through my hair and apply more
makeup, adding extra to cover my freckles and blacken my lashes
until my green eyes pop.

I cab it to The
Pub Bar, getting there a little over an hour late, and take a seat
at the bar waiting to see if Red will recognise me. Seconds later I
start to panic. What if he doesn’t? What if I’m about to make
another colossal arse of myself?

“
Hey
there sweetheart, glad you could make it,” Red purrs, passing me a
glass of wine and holding up a shot glass. Smiling in relief, I go
to take it from him but he moves it out of my reach smirking. “You
look beautiful, Maggie.”

“
Thank you,” I reply, glad that he remembers me, becoming
increasingly self-conscious under his intense inspection. He makes
me feel naked and vulnerable. It’s incredibly unnerving and I start
to think I’ve made a mistake in coming here.

He holds the
shot glass to my mouth and pinches down the corners of his full
lips, holding back a smile.

“
Remember what to do sweetheart?” Red asks just as he tips the
glass so the liquid pours past my parted lips and burns its way
down my throat. He bites into a lemon wedge, piercing the flesh and
allowing some juice to dribble down his chin. He takes it in his
fingers and glides it over my mouth before sliding it between my
teeth, clenching his jaw as I bite down and gently suck, swallowing
the tang.

“
Fuck
that’s hot,” he breathes watching my mouth as I lick my lips. “I’ve
got about forty minutes left on my shift but I’ll try to cut early,
kay?” He rests his elbows on the bar and leans in close. I pick up
my wine and smile in reply, taking a decent sip while he’s still
watching.

“
I’m
definitely cutting out early.”

Twenty minutes
and two glasses of wine later, Red has his hand resting on my
waist, leading me out the front door of the bar. I’m well and truly
pickled, so it doesn’t occur to me to care about where his hands
are. He told me of another bar a few blocks over that has a live
band playing. He doesn’t work there, so it sits better with him.
I’m feeling so darn good we could prop down on the curb and it
would be fine with me.

“
So,
no boyfriend tonight?” Red asks, pulling a smoke out of his pocket
while we walk the few blocks to the other pub. His question
confuses my already muddled brain.

“
I
don’t have a boyfriend.”

He lights up
before saying anything else. Drawing in a few short inhales of his
cigarette, Red holds the smoke in his lungs for as long as he can,
then exhales. The expelled smoke drifts my way, only it doesn’t
smell like any cigarette I’ve smelt before. Red offers it to me. I
shake my head in decline.

“
No
husband either? Or yes to husband but looking for a bit on the
side?” This comment stops me in my tracks. “What, sweetheart?” Red
asks, stepping back to me, blowing smoke into my face before
lifting up my hand to show me my wedding and engagement rings.
“You’re not the first married woman to want to hook up with me,” he
says matter-a-fact with a shrug, like it’s no big deal.

“
Just
so you know Red, I would never in a million years cheat on my
husband, if I still had one.”

Implying the
loss of Brendan sends my stomach plunging, dragging my heart along
for the ride. This is so wrong. I can’t believe I thought it would
be okay even for a moment.

“
Sorry, I think I’ve made a mistake.”

“
Separated then,” he states like he has me all figured
out.

I’m such an
idiot. I called him, got in a taxi and came to him, this arrogant
foul-mouthed conceited… whatever he is, he’s not a fraction of the
man Brendan is.

Was.

“
Nope,” I call over my shoulder, walking away.

He catches up to
me easily. “Come on Maggie. You’ve gotta give me something
here.”

“
Why?”

“
Why
the fuck not?” he counters, stopping me with his hand on my arm.
When I don’t say anything, Red steps in front of me and tilts my
chin so he can look into my eyes. I don’t know what he sees in
them, but it makes him frown.

He takes another
pull on his cigarette, holds it in and cups my jaw, carefully
blowing the smoke over my mouth and nose so I have to swallow it
down. It burns my sinuses and makes my eyes water and makes me to
cough.

“
That’s a shit hand you’ve been dealt there sweetheart,” he
whispers matter-of-factly than presses a soft kiss on my
lips.

Initially I
freeze, shocked by his brazenness. When he gently moves his soft
mouth over mine, I feel my body respond and start to kiss him back.
I’ve had so much to drink that I know I’m not thinking clearly and
know this is probably not a good idea. I’m pretty sure I’m going to
regret it when I sober up… but his mouth feels so nice against mine
and I really miss kissing. I really miss kissing Brendan… God he
gave good kiss.

If I close my
eyes and relax, I could pretend, just this one time. Red shifts in
closer so our chests are pressed together and brushes his tongue
over my mouth, wanting to deepen our kiss. I hesitate and he must
feel me stiffen, having second thoughts, because he wraps his arms
around my waist and presses into me, licking my mouth again, then
sucks in my bottom lip. I can’t help myself. I close my eyes and
open for him – for Brendan. Just this one time, I
promise.

I feel his lips
move over mine, his tongue in my mouth brushing against mine. And
it’s so soft and so nice it makes my pulse hitch and heat pool
between my legs.

Red leans away
slightly, looking at me with eyes as dark as the night. Watching me
as he takes another drag of his smoke, he flicks the butt to the
footpath when he’s done. He holds it in as he starts kissing me
again, caressing it into my mouth and lungs. He holds me firm,
sealing my lips to stop me from exhaling before I absolutely have
to cough it out. I’ve never been much of a smoker - even as a
teenager I couldn’t inhale without dry reaching by the time I got
to the end of the cigarette. I turn my head away and hoarsely expel
the tainted air, digging my nails into Red’s arm when I
stumble.

“
Come
on sweetheart, let’s go,” he murmurs, sliding a hand around my
waist and lowering it, keeping it there as we walk. His tight hold
on my butt makes me feel tacky and I want to ask him to move it,
but I don’t.

Chapter 7

I’M LYING FACE down on the couch in my
living room, drooling into a cushion. Seriously hung over and
feeling really, really sick. The sun’s shining through the front
windows burning my skin, and given the fact that it rises from the
back of the house, it’s got to be late in the afternoon. I’ve slept
the day away and don’t remember coming home last night, or was it
this morning?

My stomach
bubbles, reminding me of some of the details I knew I’d be upset
about sober. I close my eyes, praying for sleep when my gut lurches
into my throat. I roll over carefully to not upset my head more
than my belly and land on my knees. The floor feels unusually soft
and uneven. Looking down I notice the rest of my couch cushions
have been scattered around the floor, to catch me if I fell. It
must have been Red’s doing. God I hope it was.

Crawling on my
hands and knees, I make it to the downstairs bathroom just as my
stomach heaves disgusting smelling liquid. It comes spurting
violently out of my mouth and mostly into the toilet. My stomach
clenches painfully with every heave that leaves a disgusting taste
in my furry, cotton ball mouth. I vomit two more times and when
there’s nothing left to bring up. Then dry reach uncontrollably
until I force my neck muscles to relax and swallow back the amount
of bile that’s caught there.

I sit on my butt
to inspect the damage, and thank the Gods of Hangovers it’s not as
bad as I imagined. Kneeling up I reach into the basin and rinse a
hand towel under cool water, wring out the excess and wipe it over
my face before rubbing the ceramic bowl and tiled floor. I toss the
cloth to the base of the shower and turn it on.

Grabbing hold of
the towel ladder, I hoist my heavy self up and peel off my clothes,
leaving them in a pile by my feet. Without testing the water
temperature I step under the spray and close my eyes, adjusting the
pressure to hammer out my headache before worrying about
comfort.

Memories slowly
start to come… leaving The Pub Bar with Red… him questioning me
with brutal directness… me turning to leave… him kissing me…
kissing smoke into my… Son of a...

Okay, so I’m not
the worldliest person out there - I get that, but Oh My Freaking
God, I smoked a joint last night. For the first time in my entire
life I have committed an illegal act - out in public. And I didn’t
even know I was doing it. Well, I guess I kind of wasn’t really
smoking it, given that Red actually inhaled the thing. I was just
the one to breathe it in, after he exhaled it into my mouth. Does
it still count? I’m still counting it.

I should be
mortified, horrified, dismayed and all the rest, but I’m not. I
feel kinda bad-arse, like one of the reclusive rebel kids back in
high school. You know the ones that always wore black and looked
depressed all of the time, but in a cool way. Only I’m ten years
too late.

Oh now that’s
just sad. I’m a decade late and celebrating giving it to the man. I
rest my forehead to the tiles and start tapping it lightly. God I’m
embarrassing, even when I’m by myself I can’t seem to get it
right.

Okay, now I’m
humiliated.

After I finish
showering and get dressed around the tornado in my bedroom, I make
my way back to the living room to tidy up when I notice the light
flashing on my phone, indicating a message. I slide it open
expecting a berating from Luke or Jon, to find a text from Red
telling me to be dressed and ready to go by ten.