The Hard Bounce - страница 32

By the time I got back downstairs, Kelly was back at the bar with Audrey. The adrenaline had worn off and she was stone drunk all over again, swaying in a nonexistent breeze.

“You ready?” I asked.

“Mmnyeah. Night, Audrey.” She gave Audrey a big hug.

“Nice to meet you, sweetie. Hope to see you again.” Audrey looked at me around the hug. “Willie, you gonna make sure she gets home safe?”

“I called her a car.”

Audrey’s face turned to a mask of horror. “You are not just going to stick this girl in a car. You are going to take her back to her apartment and make sure she gets in safely.” She punctuated her points by poking a thick finger into my arm. I knew better than to argue with Audrey. God help me if Kelly actually came back to the bar and Audrey found out I’d disobeyed a direct order. “Jesus, whatever happened to chivalry?”

“Fine, fine. I’ll get her home,” I said, defeated in more ways than one.

Kelly turned back to me and smiled. “You are so sweet.” Then she hugged me firmly. I told myself it was just another drunken mood swing. One minute I’m an intimidating jerk, the next I’m the bee’s knees. She held the hug. It felt good. Very good. I tried reciting Red Sox ERAs in my head, but I hadn’t been following the last week or so and my mind froze. I hoped she couldn’t feel my ignorance of current statistics pressing against her leg.

The car was waiting outside by the time I peeled her away from both the bar and Audrey. The driver nervously eyed Kelly as I poured her into the back seat. “Yo! She ain’t gonna puke back there, is she?”

“No,” I said with a certain amount of confidence. “I think she’s empty.”

I managed to haul Kelly up the stairs of her third-floor walk-up without slipping a disk, falling down a flight, or getting puked on again. Considering the way the evening was playing out so far, I marked that on the win column.

As soon as we walked in the door, Kelly ran to the bathroom. I expected to hear more retching, but only heard water running in the sink. Then I heard the brushing of teeth.

A few framed pictures sat on a small unfinished bookcase. Before I realized what I was doing, I checked each photo for a telltale shot of a boyfriend. One picture showed Kelly with an older woman. Another with an older man. Parents, I figured. None of the three together. Probably divorced. A couple group pictures had guys in them, but she didn’t appear intimate with any one guy in particular. The water stopped running.

Kelly walked out of the bathroom, face still damp and shiny. “Well, this is it. My humble home.”

“Okay, then. You gonna be all right?”

“In a minute,” she said, and she planted a kiss on my mouth. Her kiss was firm, her lips slightly cold from the brushing. Our tongues met softly. She tasted nicely minty.

She pulled away and swooned in my arms. I’d like to think it was a result of my animal magnetism, but it was probably still the booze.

“What was that for?”

“That was for me.” She kissed me again and pulled me toward the bedroom. We held the kiss as she fumbled with the doorknob. She managed to get the door open and spun me around. The room was tiny, the edge of her bed only a foot from the door. She pushed me back, and I fell on top of her thick comforter. She dropped on top of me, and we kissed again. Taking my hands, she placed them over her breasts. I could feel her nipples standing at attention against the fabric of her shirt. Then she started kissing my neck.

Dammit. My erogenous Achilles heel and she zoned right in on it.

Despite the devil on my left shoulder howling to tear her clothes off, I pulled her hands back. “Uh, Kelly?” She didn’t answer me but stopped working on my neck, thank God. I waited for the angel on my other shoulder to provide me with righteous words, but he must have been on a coffee break. I went on without him. “Listen, don’t think that I don’t want this.”

Still no answer. Her breath was hot on my neck.

I fumbled on. “But I’ve got a hardcore rule that I have to live by. It’s a bar thing. You’re really drunk. Even if you really do want to… You know? Another time, maybe?”