Rated Teen (13+)
A Drunken Phone Call
Rachel Henning walked through the doors of the Paradise Bar, irritated. It had been one of those days, you know the ones where you wanted to shove your boss' face into a toilet and water board the son of a bitch until he was half dead
but couldn't because you wanted to keep your job. So she ended up here, in a bar walking past all of the single lonely men, or married men who were looking for a woman to hook up with
A woman who was not their wife.
Rachel sat down at the closest bar stool and waited for the bartender.
"What can I get for you?" asked a man of medium build, brown, curly hair, and hazel eyes. He looked a little too eager to wait on her.
"Margarita on the rocks," said Rachel not meeting his eyes. He walked away without a word and she stared at the counter top. She thought about her boss, Richard. He was an absolute tyrant at the newspaper. 'Rachel do this, Rachel do that, Rachel are you single? Rachel how about dinner at nine? Rachel, why don't you stop by my condo for the weekend? Rachel why don't you return my calls? Rachel, a job like this doesn't come without a price you know.'
"Kiss my ass Richard," she muttered to the wooden bar. Just then the too eager bartender returned with her margarita and she took it without looking up. Richard didn't deserve a writer like her. She was intelligent, hell she even had a masters in Journalism from Columbia University! She could do better than the small time newspaper that paid her half of what a normal salaried journalist got. She didn't need Richard, the sleaze.
She needed David. David had always been good to her... until he had cheated on her with that blonde. Rachel tossed her auburn hair over her shoulder and took a long drought from her glass. She took another and another, and then the glass was empty.
David was gorgeous. Tall and muscular with green eyes and brown hair. He had a tattoo on his left shoulder blade of some fiery design. She had seen it for the first time when they had sex a month after she had met him. God he was great.
The bartender returned but before he could ask if she wanted another, Rachel spoke.
"Bring me a bottle of tequila and a shot glass," he took the empty margarita glass from her and returned with the bottle and shot glass. Rachel poured it and wondered if she should just drink from the bottle instead.
Richard was ugly and heavy and David was gorgeous and no longer interested. She poured the tequila into the glass and swallowed it immediately. Of course she had turn Richard down every time, but today was the last day. Especially since he called her into his office this afternoon and told her to redo her piece on the board of education or, 'Don't even bother to return to work tomorrow!" As he had put it. Rachel took another shot and wiped her mouth with the back of her red sleeve, and coughed. She didn't plan on returning to work tomorrow anyway.
A man sat next to her but she kept her eyes firmly on the empty shot glass in front of her.
"Excuse me, I couldn't help but notice you-" he began in a somewhat pleasant voice.
"I'm not interested," said Rachel not bothering to see if he was even worth a night of fun. She wanted David, and she knew he wasn't David.
"Bitch," the man got up quickly and shoved the bar stool as he stomped away. Rachel didn't care, the day had been murder anyway, and she wasn't in the mood for meaningless sex. She refilled her shot glass and swallowed.
David was a cardiologist. A heart doctor who broke someone's heart, Rachel's to be exact, with a blonde slut he worked with. Some pediatrician. Rachel swallowed another shot of tequila.
She met David while working on a story about the struggles of a doctor. She had interviewed him numerous times, at first she had met with him for the story, after that she had made up excuses about an extended deadline, just to see him. On their last interview he had asked her for coffee, and after that he asked her for lunch.
Rachel had accepted wholeheartedly and was ecstatic when he asked her a week later to be his girlfriend. They saw each other almost every day and the first time she slept with him they had gone to dinner and then to his place for the most wonderful night she had ever experienced. He had touched her in ways that no other man had. She swallowed more tequila as she remembered the way his tongue had caressed her inner thighs, and the ways his hand moved across her hips when he gripped her.
Rachel put her glass down and waved the bartender back.
"Bring me the ch-chack," she slurred. He walked over to the register as Rachel tried to pull her debit card out of her purse. Her wallet was in her hand but the stupid clasp wouldn't open. She pulled and when finally it snapped open she grabbed one of her cards. The bartender returned and she handed him the card, it was either her debit card or a credit card, she couldn't tell which one it was but didn't care so long as it paid the bill.
He took the card and she grabbed the tequila bottle for herself. She hadn't heard from David in six months after she found him in bed with the blonde, pediatrician whore. She had been with David for almost a year when she walked in on him on top of her, stark naked and banging away. Rachel had screamed every swear word she could think of and even threw a vase at him when he realized she was standing in the doorway of his bedroom. Unfortunately, the vase had missed him and hit the wall instead as he swore to her it wasn't what it looked like.
The bartender returned with a receipt and a pen and she tried to sign her name legibly. She handed him the receipt and he said "Thank you,"
"Youuu ... dear sirrr ... are mowst walcom!" Rachel said as she shoved herself away from the bar, stumbling slightly, and left with the half empty bottle of tequila.
"Ma'am your purse!" called a female voice. Rachel turned back and a short brunette girl handed her the bag.
"Thankss," Rachel headed to the door of the Paradise Bar and walked into the cold night air. She stumbled to her car and tried to unlock it. The key fell to the ground and it was too dark to see where it had landed.
"Sshit! ... Oh forgit it..." Rachel walked away from her car and stumbled into the street. She took a drink from the tequila bottle and walked slowly in the direction of her house.
Here she was, jobless, man-less, and drunk, and the best she could do was walk home. Rachel tripped and fell onto her knees and the contents of her purse fell out.
She stared dumbly at her cell phone before she picked it up and selected David's number. The phone rang and suddenly his voice was on the other end.
"Hello?" asked David slowly.
"You son-of-a-bitch," Rachel managed to say clearly. She stood slowly and held the bottle tightly in her grip before taking another swig. She left her purse on the road as she kept walking.
"I worsshept you! How cewld you do that too me?" Rachel felt the tears fill in her eyes as she remembered the time they spent in his living room holding each other and eating popcorn.
"Rachel, are you drunk?" asked David in surprise.
"I am nawt drun-kah!" She tried to enunciate the word in hopes that it would sound clear. "Do yew know what I've been tha-rew?" she demanded.
"What are you talking about?" David sounded startled and maybe even angry.
"I...Loved .... Yew," she said. "After I fauwnd yew with her, I cried for weekss! The one that trassshed your office ... that was me! I bro-kah your computer! I ripped open your files! How cewld yew cheat on me and then yew even denied it! I laust yew... I laust my job ... and I have my boss trying to sca-rew me!" Just then Rachel heard the voice of the blonde on the other end.
"David who are you talking to?" asked the pediatrician.
"It's no one honey, just a wrong a number." The line went dead before Rachel could tell him how much she still loved him, how much she missed him.
"I'm no one... just a wrong number?" asked Rachel aloud as felt her knees give out. She fell hard against the asphalt, or was it cement? Her knees felt scrapped and the bottle of tequila cracked. Maybe it was asphalt.
Rachel looked back and saw the lights of the Paradise Bar several hundred feet back. She hadn't gone very far, and she was alone on a road, with a broken bottle of tequila, and the scattered contents of her purse. She reached for her wallet, leaving the rest of her things on the ground. She tried to stand and wobbled violently. Finally she was on her feet. Slowly, Rachel walked back to the doors of the Paradise Bar. She needed vodka.
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