Page 11 of How to Hack a Hellhound
He barked out a laugh, still staring a little oddly at me. I guess I didn’t seem like the dating type. I’d been in here hooking up with a new guy every week.
He put a napkin in front of me. “Dating life sucks,” he said, winking at me. “The usual?”
“Nah, just a soda,” I said.
He scoffed, and I turned away from his prying eyes to look around. The sexy guy was still staring at me, only he didn’t wink or nod or anything—he just stared. Goosebumps traveled across my body, and I had to make an effort to drag my eyes away as James put a coke in front of me.
“You know that guy over there in the dress shirt?” I asked him, gesturing slightly with my head toward the man as I took a drink.
James looked over and shook his head. “No, but he’s looking your way, and he’s sexy as sin. Looks like you have a new conquest already.” He winked at me again.
I shrugged. As much as that guy looked like sex on a stick, that wasn’t why I was here. James wandered off to take some orders while I sipped my soda, but he ended up in front of me again in a couple minutes.
“You look a little heartbroken. Who were you dating?” he asked. He grabbed a cloth, wiping down the bar and not lookingat me. “Was it that guy Marcus? We all heard about what happened.”
I flinched at Marcus’s name, and James looked at me, eyes boring into mine until I looked away. I took another drink, thinking about what to say. “I wasn’t…” I started, but a wave of vertigo washed over. I suddenly felt like the walls were closing in on me, like my heart was racing. What the fuck?
“Hey, man, it’s ok. Take a deep breath,” he said. Then he called out, “Scotty, take over.” Next thing I knew, he was next to me, grabbing my arm and helping me up. “Too much to drink?” he asked jokingly, and a few guys on barstools laughed.
I couldn’t process it. I hadn’t had anything to drink. I looked over toward where the man had been watching me, like seeing his eyes would bring me back to myself, but he wasn’t there. Had he ever been there?
Everything was fuzzy, the ground tilting around me. “I don’t… I’m not ok,” I said to James. “I think someone… I think…” but I couldn’t get it out. Something was wrong, but my legs weren’t working right, my brain was fuzzy, and all I could keep thinking was that I was not ok. Something was not ok. “There was a guy…” I started.
James led me toward the side wall and through a door. “You think some guy gave you some bad shit?” James asked as he led me down a hallway and into an office, supporting me.
“Didn’t take anything,” I mumbled, my mouth working hard to form the words.
He sat me down in a chair, kneeling in front of me. “You’re having a panic attack,” he told me. “You’ll be ok.”
But that wasn’t right. I wasn’t feeling panicked. I felt like I was floating an inch next to my body, everything slow and fuzzy. I shook my head dazedly.
“It started when I brought up Marcus. What happened to Marcus, Q?” he asked me.
“Marcus is dead,” I whispered, relief flowing through me. I wasn’t having a panic attack, because Marcus was dead. My brain was sluggish, but I looked up at James, whose eyes were staring into mine. I hadn’t taken anything. I’d only drunk a soda.
A soda he gave me.
“You…” I started, but I didn’t want to believe it. James was a friend. Sort of. A flirt. The bartender we all liked best. “You gave me a drink,” I mumbled. “You gave me… something.”
The door opened with a splintering sound at that moment, and the guy from out in the bar walked in, shutting the door behind him. I looked up at him, my head falling back against the chair. He wasso tall. And so cute. I smiled at him, unable to resist. He looked me up and down before turning to James.
James. Yes. I was drugged. James had drugged me. “I shouldn’t have come here,” I murmured, barely aware I was talking out loud.
“No, it wasn’t the finest decision you’ve made lately,” the man said.
James stood up. “Can I help you?” he asked.
The man looked at James, and then his hand was flashing out, and James was on the floor, and my brain was flashing big PANIC signs, but my body wasn’t cooperating at all, because all I could manage was a slow roll of my head to look down at an unconscious James.
“This is bad,” I slurred. “Very bad.”
The man came over and lifted my head, prying one eyelid open for a moment and then resting a hand on my wrist. He leaned in and sniffed my breath.
“He gave me coke,” I said. “But not, like, coke the drug, like coke with the polar bears. I always liked those polar bears. Cute polar bears.”
Ididlike those polar bears. So warm and snuggly looking, and thinking about them was nice. Better than thinking aboutwhatever the fuck was about to happen. I tried to get up, but my legs wobbled underneath me, and the man caught me under the arm. He pushed me into the chair, and things went… wonky.
It was like snapshots.
