Escort For The Witch: The Mystery of Psyche's Ruby - стр. 6
I'm just like everyone else living on planet Earth: I do have an occasional drink. But ever to experience a hangover, and such a bad one at that? Heaven forbid! So, apparently, something must have gone wrong here big time… But what was it exactly that had caused to me to go off rails?
Rewind a few days back. Oh, now I remember! Two days ago, my better half and I were not seeing eye to eye, to put it mildly. We had an epic fight because I had flatly refused to fly to France. And why did we need to fly to France? Because we are getting married! That’s it! Our wedding is exactly one week away! But surely that wasn’t the reason to… And by the way, how long has it been since?
"And didn't I tell you, their pool game wouldn’t end well?" came an irritated female voice from some way off. "No one ever listens to me."
Pool! That’s it! The answer to the question that has been tormenting me since I regained my ability to think. Another wet nudge to my cheek made me shudder. I tried to turn my head toward my relentless, snorting attacker and look it straight in the face.
Or rather, the muzzle. Success! A few torturous attempts later, and I finally managed to pry my eyelids open. Peering into my puffed up face was not the habitually displeased muzzle of my cat Gigantor, but rather the devoted gaze of the warm brown canine eyes.
Seeing that I was awake, my beloved blondie eagerly jumped to her feet and barked loudly.
"Abby, ugh! Stop it, please!" My speech was still slurry, and I was racking what was left of my brains over how my parents’ golden retriever ended up in my house. With a mammoth effort, I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling.
"Well, well! Look who's awake!" someone next to me said sarcastically. And I decided it was time to face the music and find out how my so-called "bachelor party" had ended.
It cost me some rather painful sensations, but I finally managed to sit up. The effort blurred my vision nausea engulfed me, and my head spun wildly. Summoning all my willpower, I turned my head to look around me. Yes, there I was, in my parents’ house.
"How are you feeling?" a calm, almost too calm voice next to me enquired. I turned to face a short woman with neatly styled dark hair and angry green eyes. With her hands on her hips, she stood there waiting for my reply.
"Water!" I pleaded, and it was all I could muster. The woman snorted disapprovingly before disappearing through the door leading to the kitchen, followed by the loud clattering of crockery. Then, like a magician, she reappeared in front of me with a full glass of life-saving whiskey.
"Mom, I adore you," I said lovingly, though still incoherently, and drained the glass, feeling the liquid burn my insides on descent.
"Oh, do you, really? And is that all you’d like to say to me?" Mrs. Renton crossed her arms and gave me a piercing look.
"Tell me what you want to hear, and I’ll say it, promise," I replied sincerely, if a little cheekily. The sound of my muffled voice and my slurry speech took me aback for a second. And my jaw was strangely sore…
"You know, Jack, I wouldn’t mind if you got down on your knees and crawled after me around the house, begging for my forgiveness and showering me with gratitude," Mom said dreamily and gave me another knowing look, as if it was supposed to jog my memory somehow and make me feel guilty for whatever it was that I had done the night before.