Red Nights - Shari J. Ryan Page 0,61

the door open hard enough that it makes everything inside clank. There are dozens of little nips of liquor. They’re all highly appealing right now. I grab a glass off the top of the TV stand and place it on the ground beside me. It takes less than thirty seconds to have each nip opened and ready for pouring. I pour six of them into a glass, not bothering to look at the labels. I don’t care what’s what; I just need them to do their job.

I fill the rest of the glass with water. The first sip is painful. It’s disgusting. It burns. But then it numbs. I swallow the rest of the concoction down. Instant relief. I don’t even care about the cigarette sitting on the nightstand, waiting for me to cry uncle and give in. Because obviously my addiction is stronger than I am. It’s not a surprise. I’m weak and naive and I believe whatever anyone tells me.

With my head swimming, I stumble over to the bed and pull the sheets up and over me, closing myself in darkness.

* * *

What the? Where am I? Oh…shit.

I fell asleep quickly, or maybe I passed out. Probably the latter. My phone is ringing. Hayes. I feel like it’s been hours since I spoke to him. I look at the clock on the bedside table, but the numbers are blurry. Maybe he’s calling to tell me he changed his mind and went back home.

With a great struggle for hand-eye coordination, I tap my finger several times over my phone screen before it connects and drop it twice before getting the phone to my ear. “Hi,” I croak.

“What room are you in?” Guess he didn’t turn around. Mr. Demanding.

I reach over to the side table and snatch the key envelope they gave me at check-in, “Two-oh-four.” I hear a click. “Good-bye to you, tooooo.” I drop the phone and fall back against my pillow. A few seconds later, I hear a rapping at the door. I want to just say come in, but the door locks on its own of course. Otherwise, that baby would have been wide open, if my recent lack of self-care is any indication.

My feet hit the ground hard, and the room tumbles a bit as I focus on placing one foot in front of the other…and the other…and the other, until I reach the door. The metal handle feels cool against my skin. I pull it open, nearly falling backward. Hayes’s arm is around me before I can rebound to steady myself. “You’re drunk?” he sighs. He looks over my shoulder, and I follow his gaze, trying to determine what the look on his face means. Oh. My mess. “Six nips, huh?” I smile proudly. Why shouldn’t I be proud of drinking myself to sleep? “You’re awfully small to take that much in.”

“I can handle it,” I say, slurring a bit. Hayes pulls me over to the bed, dropping down at the end.

“Why, Felicity?”

“Because I don’t know who’s lying, but someone is. Or everyone is. I think everyone wants to kill me, too. You know…like Blake. Even though those detectives think I killed him. Because I smoke and all.” I shift my attention, trying to see where Hayes is looking. He’s staring at the cigarette waiting for me on the nightstand.

I plop down on the bed, pulling myself toward that beautiful white stick. My fingers wrap around it, clutching it like a child grasping onto a favorite toy. “Got a light?” I place it between my lips, pulling myself up straight.

“No.” He reaches over, taking the cigarette from my lips. “I told you I’d help you not do that any more.”

I giggle. “Oh yeah! With…” I cup my hand around my mouth and whisper the word, “…seeeex.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I PEEL MY EYES OPEN and find Hayes sitting on the guest chair, staring out the window at the dumpster—hell of a view this room has. He has my cigarette perched behind his ear; I only vaguely remember him taking it, or maybe I gave it to him, though I don’t think I would have. I also wouldn’t have let him in last night if I were thinking properly. I need to figure all of this shit out. “I need you to leave.” I grab his coat from the end of the bed and toss it over to him. “Please. I don’t know who to believe right now, and I don’t want to try at this point.”

He walks