The Angel Alejandro by Alistair Cross

Author:Alistair Cross [Cross, Alistair]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Glass Apple Press
Published: 2017-01-25T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

“Guys?” Dette’s vision swam, the world tilted, and she wanted to go to bed. “Guys, I think I’m going to be sick.” She sat in the passenger seat, the window rolled down. Maddy and Clint were talking about something but she didn’t care - she was worried the evening’s drinks were about to come back up.

“ … don’t want to talk about it …” Madison sounded pissed.

“Don’t be like that, Mads …” Clint did not sound pissed. He sounded -

Dette’s stomach muscles contracted and she sat up, expecting the worst.

False alarm. This time.

“I’m serious, guys. I think I’m going to-” She couldn’t say it. Saying it would make it happen. She closed her eyes. How much did I drink? She couldn’t remember.

“ … One more chance. Please?” Clint’s voice held such hope it made Dette bark a laugh.

“Good luck, Horace!” Dette called out the window. It came out, ‘Horash.’ She giggled. “You messed with the wrong chicky!”

Clint, who was tipping sideways, shot her a dirty look, and Madison said, “Stop it, Dette.”

“And she’s been a bitch all night, so good luck!” Dette slapped the side of the car in laughter. “Hey, Clint! Does anyone ever call you Cunt? Or Clit?”

“Dette! Enough!” Madison’s voice was as cold and hard as ice. Her eyes probably were, too, but Dette couldn’t focus enough to tell.

“Fine,” said Dette. “But hurry up! I don’t feel good and I think I’m gonna throw-” Oh God! There was no warning. She threw the door open just in time for her stomach’s contents to splash onto the asphalt with a sick but satisfying sound. It was red - Devil’s Punchbowl red - and it just kept coming and coming, her ribs contracting, her head throbbing, her body seizing and relaxing, seizing and relaxing as her stomach turned itself inside out. How the Christ-much did I drink? she thought as she hosed down the parking lot, painting it red. At last it ended. She wiped her mouth and when she looked up, the world was a little less spinny.

Maddy and Clint were staring at her.

“I, uh, sorry.” Dette closed the door. “I’m just gonna lay down in here, okay?”

“That’s a good idea,” said Maddy.

Dette closed her eyes and slumped in the seat. The world continued to spin, but slowly, manageably. Those Devil’s Punchbowls pack a fuck of a punch! Heh. Fuck of a punch. The punchbowls. She would have laughed but unconsciousness was already taking bites out of her, leaving black holes in her awareness.

“ … Just get away from me. Leave me alone …”

“ … You’re in no position to tell me no, Mads …”

Those were the last words she heard before she lapsed into the blissful void of oblivion.

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