All's Fair in Love and Las Vegas

Chapter Ninety-Eight

        As hard as that week had been, that was nothing compared to now. Now it was like I had an elephant standing on my chest. Sadness overwhelmed me, but not the crying kind. This was the kind where you were suffocated in emotion and didn't think you'd ever feel happy again. The tears don't come. I only could lay there, an aching feeling in the pit of my heart.

        "I have to get up," I finally murmured to myself. Get up and do what, I didn't know, but I had to get up. Otherwise I would stay on this couch forever.

        I stumbled to the kitchen, blindly hoping that I could eat. Except eating would've made me throw up, so I didn't. I took another sip of water, which helped a little. I leaned back against the counter, holding my stomach. Nothing felt good. My stomachache was so severe all I could do was look up and not think about it. 

        My gaze landed on the bottle of wine hiding on top of the refrigerator. I reached for it, muttering, "Screw it."

        Popping the cork, I brought the bottle to my lips. I didn't care anymore. Either it would make me vomit, which might reset things, or I would feel better. It was better than thinking and feeling the pain in my gut. Before I knew it, the bottle was empty. I considered my state; I wasn't much better.

        Five seconds later, I threw up in the kitchen sink. I turned on the cold water, cleaning out the bottom. The smell was enough to make me throw up again, my stomach now empty. Wiping my mouth, I leaned over the sink, wondering if my stomachache would go away.

         It didn't. But I did find another bottle of wine in the cupboard. Why I had so much, I had no idea. Maybe work party gifts over the years. This time I only took a swig before setting down the bottle.

        "Jackie?"

        I looked up to see Kylie standing in the kitchen, her eyes wide. I grunted a hello, wondering if I'd invited her over earlier without realizing.

        "Hey," she said, taking a careful step towards me. "What's going on?"

        "I don't know," I lied. "What are you doing here?"

        "Well, I drove by and your car was in the driveway when you're supposed to be at work so I thought I'd check on you," she said, taking the bottle of wine and holding it up to the light. "Didn't know you were drinking again."

        "I didn't know either," I said with a sharp, loud laugh.

        Then Kylie held up the other bottle, the empty one. "Oh my gosh. Jackie?"

        "Yeah..." I said, rubbing the back of my neck.

        "Okay, come on, sit down," she said, putting one hand on my back and trying to lead me to the living room.

        "Just one more sip," I said, taking another swig before she could stop me. "I'm...dehydrated." That was a big word.

        "Why are you dehydrated?" she asked.

        "Stayed in bed all day," I said as I sat down. Then I fell over and chose to lay down.

        "Why?"

        "Don't feel good," I lied. She couldn't know the truth. It would wreck me.

        "This is more than not feeling good," she said, shimmying before me. Kylie shimmies a lot. Or wait, maybe I couldn't see straight. That's not great news. 

        "Yeah but I can't tell," I confessed.

        She frowned. "You can't?"

        "No," I groaned. "Can I throw up again?"

        Kylie hustled me back to the sink, where I promptly emptied my guts. She was nice enough to hold back my hair and hand me a glass of water before taking me back to the couch.

        "Jackie, you need to tell me what's going on. This is serious. I'm worried about you," she insisted, kneeling in front of me. 

        I realized the kitchen light was on. "Hey, the power's working!"

        "Yeah, it came on a couple hours ago, but we need to talk about this," she said, refusing to let me change the subject.

        "Do we have to?" I whined.

        "Yes."

        Not wanting to tell her, I said, "I can give you clues. Hints. You won't figure it out."

        "Okay, fine," she sighed, clearly exasperated.

        I lowered my voice and whispered conspiratorially, "We did the thing."

        "The thing," Kylie repeated, clearly lost.

        "Yep. We did. And it ended horrible," I said. Now I was crying, but they weren't the tears I'd been holding back all day. This was different; this was possibly the alcohol talking.

        "Okay, okay, you're going to have to give me another hint," she coaxed, handing me a tissue.

        "It's the thing you and Clay do a lot," I explained. "You know. It's bad."

        "Bad..." Kylie was completely lost. Silly. How had she not figured out what I was talking about yet?

        A look dawned in her eyes and she stood, saying, "I'm calling Grayson."

        That was not what I had meant. "Don't call him," I pleaded, reaching for her leg. "He'll be mad. He can't find out."

        "Oh yes he can," she said, walking into the other room. That wasn't fair, I couldn't hear that far. I strained, but her words sounded like gibberish. I bet she and Grayson had made up a secret code just so they could talk about me.

        "What did he say?" I asked, curious. "Did he hang up?"

        "He's coming here," Kylie said, gently pushing me back down and covering me with a blanket.

        "Noooo," I groaned. "He can't come in. Lock the door."

        "I will be letting him in. He said he's the only one that knows what's going on. He'll be here in fifteen minutes," Kylie said, much too calm for letting Grayson come to my house.

        "No, no," I muttered. "I'm drunk, Kylie."

        "Yeah, no kidding," she deadpanned.

        "That's not good!" I protested. "Me drunk is...bad."

        "It is. Which is why I called in Grayson," she explained. Easy for her to say–she wasn't the drunk one.

        "That's not fair," I complained. "That's setting me up to get in trouble."

        There was a knock at the door. I threw my blanket over my face, knowing Grayson wouldn't be able to find me here. I heard footsteps and hushed whispering before the door shut again. He'd left? Just like that? Wow. He must really be mad at me.

        "Jacks?"