Binding the Shadows (Arcadia Bell) - By Jenn Bennett Page 0,78
noodles and give out. He was trying to say something, but his words were slurred. Everything seemed surreal. Like time had slowed. I could hear Rose screaming at Yvonne behind me.
“I’ve got him,” I told Adella firmly. “I do this at the bar all the time. I can handle this. Go stop your mother from hurting her. If she’s drunk as well, better call her a cab and get her out of here before Lon gets back, or he’ll kill her.”
Getting him up the stairs was the hardest part, but I managed. He seemed to sober up a little and started talking in a small, roughened voice. Mostly just little drunken observations that made no sense, like his shoes were too big, and that was the reason he was having trouble walking. And was he at home? Where were we going?
“Here’s your room,” I said, kicking open his door and dragging him through in the dark. It was cleaner than usual, due to the Giovannis’ visit, so I didn’t have to wade through piles of clothes and teetering stacks of comics. Right before I made it to his bed, he made a horrible noise, tried to push me back, and vomited all over my arm. Twice. Good God, it stunk of wine.
“I’m sorry,” he said brokenly. “So sorry.”
“Hush. It’s not the first time someone’s done that,” I said. “Bartender, remember? I’m a vomit cleaning expert. Sit down on the bed. Can you do that? Mind the nightstand.” I got him down, half sprawled on his pillows. Wrangled his shirt off and used it to mop up vomit around his mouth and off my arm. It took some work to prop him up against the headboard. I turned on the lamp next to his bed. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.
“Don’t move,” I said. “I’m going to get something that will make you feel better.”
My medicinals from the bar were locked up in a drawer in Lon’s walk-in closet. I didn’t want to leave them in Tambuku while it was closed, just in case we got robbed again—whether it be Telly on a revenge mission or some other hopped-up Earthbound deciding we looked weak enough to hit. I quickly changed shirts and washed my arm in the bathroom sink, then rummaged through the vials until I found one that I used to sober up bar patrons.
When I got back to his room, he was staring at the ceiling. I went into his bathroom and filled up two disposable cups with water then set those down on his nightstand. In one, I measured two drops of the medicinal. “Here, drink this. It will make you feel better.”
He drank it down, slow at first, then faster. “I’m so thirsty,” he said, as if it was a great revelation.
“I know. Here’s more water.” I gave him the second cup and filled up two more while he drank it, setting them on his nightstand. “You’re going to want to sleep now, but when you wake up, drink more water.” I tugged off his sneakers and pulled the covers over his legs, then perched next to him on the edge of the bed.
“Are you mad at me?” he asked.
“I’m mad at your mother. What happened? I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer.”
He sloppily dug his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. The screen lit up. “Oh, no,” he moaned. “I had it on silent. I usually feel it.”
I took the phone away and placed it on the nightstand. “Why were you drinking? Did you use your knack to make her let you drink?”
“It was that Evan guy. Dad thinks he’s an asshole, but he was okay at first. He said kids in Europe drink wine at dinner, so I tasted Yvonne’s”—he still wouldn’t call her “mom,” I noticed—“and it was pretty good, so she let me be in charge of refilling the glasses from the bottle, and they kept bringing more bottles, and they were expensive, but Evan said he’d pay for dinner.”
“Tasting is one thing, but you can’t drink. You’re a kid,” I said, struggling for the right thing to say. “You’re not supposed to drink.” Christ, I felt like such a hypocrite. I got people drunk for a living. How was I going to explain the difference?
“They stopped talking to me, Cady,” he argued, gesturing loosely. “I mean, she was s’posed to be spending time with me, not him. But he was making her laugh, and she just forgot