𝙱𝚊𝚍 𝚁𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎| 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫

VII

"Jesus, you're fucking pissed" Ian huffed, as I almost tripped while stumbling into his car, struggling to open the door, as I slumped into the car seat, holding my head in my palm.

"Look who's talking" I mumbled, slurring my words, as I hiccuped, while he rolled his eyes. "Surprised you were sober to even come pick me up" I stated, straightening myself in my seat, looking over at him, while I shrugged, and sighed, looking out the drivers window.

"You're lucky I came picked you up at all. I considered leaving you here, and letting blondie take you back to his. I don't give a shit anymore" My breath hitched and my heart rate stopped at the mention of the drummer, as the memory of his lips on mine was still fresh in my mind.

"You haven't gave a shit in months" I uttered under my breath, hearing him scoff, I slowly closed my eyes just to rest them, fluttering my eyes shut, as the street lights outside turned blurry.

꧁꧂

I woke up to a throbbing head and a churn in my stomach of an expected hangover, I sat up on the bed, the covers falling to my thighs, as I rubbed my eyes, resting my elbow on my knee, that now sat up, with my hand comforting my head, softly massaging in attempt to withdraw some of the pain.

I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to remember the events of last night, but it was no use. The only thing memorable was that I was at a dinner last night with my friends, and Roger and I think... his girlfriend?

I debated on whether I should call in sick to work or just suck it up and go in. I knew Jane would struggle managing the store herself, and would have no one to talk to at lunch, since her brother was working and couldn't stop by today, like he usually did in Fridays.

I groaned, realizing my head could be hanging off and Jane would still drag me by my neck to work. So, I got up, walked into the living room, to see Ian passed out on the couch, with a bottle of beer in his hand. Surprise surprise.

I rolled my eyes, and took the bottle out of his grasp, walking into the kitchen, pouring the remaining alcoholic liquid into the sink, before tossing the bottle into the bin.

I grabbed a loaf from bread bin, sticking a slice in the toaster, while making myself a cup of coffee, I looked out the window of the kitchen, watching cars pass and stop, bird flying by, before I heard the sound of the toaster ready.

While I set the toast on a plate, opening the fridge for the butter, I heard Ian groan and get up, walking into the kitchen, as I scraped the butter with the knife onto the toast.

"What time is it?" His groggy voice asked, rubbing his eyes, as he yawned, opening the fridge to look for another bottle of beer, I eyed him carefully. Surely he shouldn't be drinking this early in the morning when he has work.

"Don't you have work today?" I asked, popping the lid back on the butter, chucking the knife in the sink, as I shoved the butter back into the fridge. "And it's half six" I added, taking a bite out of my toast.

"No... Day off today" he shrugged, taking a swig from the beer, almost stumbling backwards, hitting the wall.

"You never usually have a day off on Friday? In fact, you work overtime on Fridays" I implied suspiciously, arching an eyebrow.

"Jesus, what is this? 21 questions? My boss gave me a day off and that's it" He stressed, groaning loudly, as he ran a hand through his brown hair.

"Fuck sake, I was only asking, calm your jets" I rolled my eyes, walking into the living room to finish my toast in peace.

꧁꧂

"You know... I called you in here to work and keep my company... not to repeat everything I've heard before" Jane stated, flipping through pages of her magazine, occasionally glancing up at me to roll her eyes.

"What do you mean?" I asked, as I brought in more records from the back.

"I mean... It's always the same. Ian's a dick. I know, I've met the prick. Christ, he's my brothers best friend, because my brother is just like him: a prick. No wonder they got on so well. Also there's a few more Bowie records in the back" She glanced up, to scan the records that were being held in a open box.

I groaned, my thoughts of almost being done with work crashing. "Maybe if you'd get off your lazy arse and help me, we'd be done quicker and I wouldn't keep missing records" I rolled my eyes. Although Jane was my boss, we were more friends than colleagues, we always had a sort of banter with each other, like gossiping about customers, eyeing up and chatting up a few of the good-looking ones, stuff like that, so I never really got afraid whenever I spoke to her that way.

"Who the fuck d'you think you're talking to? I'll sack you as quick as that" she snapped her fingers, giving me her 'death stare', while I just sniggered in response.

"No, you won't. Because then you'd be lonely without me, and begging me to come back" I conjoined my hands together, with a fake pout, laughing slightly, before taking the boxes to the shelves to store the records in alphabetical order.

"I need to find better, more realistic threats" She thought aloud, causing the both of us to start laughing, before a customer appeared, making Jane all polite and professional again.