Family Business #2 by Mac Flynn

Author:Mac Flynn [Flynn, Mac]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mac Flynn
Published: 2014-06-24T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

I had a decent time subconsciously avoiding my injured hip. There was only one instance where I woke up screaming, but that was a doozy. It was about three in the morning when my hip gave me a wake-up call, and I yelped and sat up. There was a loud racket from the living room, and I, in my infinite wisdom but limited memory, thought it was a burglar. I grabbed the lamp beside my bed and readied it for launch. Someone stumbled toward the bedroom and in a moment they stood in the doorway staring at me. I did what any reasonable woman would do and flung the lamp at them hoping to crack open their skull.

"Oh shit!" the person yelped, and ducked before the lamp could rearrange their face. They straightened and flicked on the light to reveal them as Alex Brenton, current roommate.

I felt the color drain from my face as the memories of his inebriated arrival came back to me. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed.

Alex smiled and shrugged. "Not as sorry as I almost was," he countered. He winced and clutched at his head.

"Did I hit you?" I gasped.

He shook his head. "No, the martinis did. I've got a terrible hangover," he replied.

I sighed, flung off the covers, and rolled my eyes when his eyes glanced eagerly over me. Thankfully I wore my shorts and a shirt. I walked over to him, turned him around, and guided him to the kitchen. "I know just the drink to get rid of that nasty hangover," I told him.

He frowned and glanced over his shoulder at me. "What kind of drink?"

"Oh, just some lemon juice, cayenne pepper, tomato juice, and a bunch of other stuff you probably don't want to know."

Each ingredient was punctuated by a wince from Alex. "I think the cure is worse than the illness," he commented.

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," I quipped.

"Really comforting. . ." he muttered.

I plopped him at the kitchen table, gathered together the ingredients, and created my masterpiece. It was a mesh of red and green juice with a scent that could stun an organic farmer and a flavor so strong it could wipe out an entire colony of vegans. I set that down in front of him and an air bubble escaped the top. He looked at the cup and glanced up at me. "Bottoms up," I invited him.

He cringed. "Are you sure this is legal?" he wondered.

"As fuel, yes, as a drink, maybe not. Except in Texas. Everything's legal there," I replied.

Alex sighed, grasped the cup, and plugged his nose. "Here goes nothing," he nasally commented. He tipped back his head, tipped the cup and swallowed half the concoction. He hit maximum capacity when his eyes bulged out of his head and he slammed the cup on the table. A coughing fit immobilized him for a minute, and he looked to me with a face as red as the drink. "You forgot the cyanide," he gasped.

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