“Daddy.” She makes a face. “I might as well wear a sign that says, I’m the fuckup you accuse me of being.” Then she claps a hand over her mouth. “I don’t usually drop f-bombs. That was pretty fun, though.” She giggles. “Fuck. Fuckity fuckity fuck fuck…” Hiccup.
She’s getting drunker by the second. It’s alarming. I don’t really want her father flipping out at me, either. He sounds like a real piece of work. “Okay—here’s what we’re going to do. I think you’ll fit really nicely on my sofa bed.” I stand up and offer her my hand.
“Ooh!” she says. “Netflix and chill! And then the dirty sex!”
Pete the bartender gives a snort of laughter from behind the bar. “Got your hands full, there, I see.”
“Literally.” Heidi is standing again, but barely. I balance her against my chest and unlock my Katt phone. “Can you grab a car for me?”
“Can I touch your phone?” Heidi asks suddenly. “I want to fondle it. They don’t give the intern a Katt phone.”
“Later,” I promise.
Pete laughs as he opens the ride-share app and summons a car for me. “Two minutes.” He passes me the phone. “And let me pull your bar tab.”
I’m using both hands to keep Heidi stable. “Can you just sign that, too? We’ll be outside. Night, man.”
“Take care.” The older man says something quietly under his breath, and it might have been, “And better luck next time.”
At least the car shows up on time. I steer Heidi into the back seat with me. “Last chance to let me take you home to Manhattan.”
She shakes her head vehemently.
Right.
“Okay. Water and Bridge Street, then.”
“Where’s that?” Heidi asks. Her eyes are closed.
“My place.”
Heidi lifts her head and does an awkward fist pump. “Wow. Yes!”
That seems like a lot of enthusiasm for sleeping on my couch. But whatever.
On second thought, I wonder if I’m supposed to take the fold-out couch. I am a gentlemen. But I’m also six-three, and she’s at least a foot shorter. She’d totally fit on my sofa...
These are my thoughts as Heidi stirs beside me. Even with her limited dexterity, she’s able to climb into my lap. And then kisses me very sloppily on the corner of my mouth.
“Whoa, Nellie!” I pull my head back. “None of that.”
“But I can’t wait,” she says in a breathy voice. “Finally…” She leans in again.
I weave out of the way, like a prizefighter trying not to get punched. “Um, when I said we were going to my place, I just meant—”
“Sex!” Heidi says, her warm body settling more firmly onto mine. “Dirty, filthy sex. Sweaty, clawing, pounding, burn-your-soul-to-the-ground sex!”
I let out a groan of frustration.
But my drunken companion misinterprets it. “You’re going to really fuck me, right?” she asks, blinking at close range.
Parts of me rise up and cheer. “Maybe. But not tonight.”
“Please,” she says breathlessly. “Boys are always too polite with me. The ones who’ll date me are afraid of Daddy. I’m starting to think that polite sex is worse than no sex at all.”
I’m wondering—who the fuck is her daddy? Maybe Heidi is a mob princess. Maybe her father controls all the gambling in Brooklyn or runs guns in Jersey.
“What’s polite sex like?” asks the driver. “Just asking. For science.”
“It’s too gentle,” Heidi says, relaxing against my chest. “Too sweet. Maybe I just attract the wrong kind of man. I need to know if headboards banging against the wall is a real thing.”
“Oh, they bang,” I say with a sigh.
A small hand runs up my chest and then back down. Then fingers dip beneath the hem of my T-shirt. “You’re so…hard,” she says dreamily.
You have no idea.
“How soon ‘til we get there?” she asks, her lips coasting up my cheek. “Someone wrote on the ladies’ room wall that you like to tie women up when you have sex. Will you show me?”
“Damn,” the driver comments from the front seat. “Can I come, too?”
How much longer can this night get? “Listen, Heidi. When I said we were going to my place, I just meant that you need a place to—”
“Here we are!” the driver announces cheerfully.
“My body is ready,” she whispers.
I wonder if they teach that at charm school.
Heidi opens the door and climbs out. And then? She tumbles to the curb.
I curse as the doorman comes running outside, but I get to her first. I scoop Heidi off the pavement and into my arms. She slumps against me.
“Everything all right, Mr. Castro?” asks Miguel.
“It will be. This one had a little too much to drink, and now she’s going to sleep it off.”
“You smell nice,” Heidi says, wrapping her arms around me like an octopus.
Miguel laughs. “You need help?”
“Nope. I got this,” I say, beginning to tow her toward the building. He runs to open the door for us.
“Are there stairs?” Heidi mumbles. “I don’t think I can do stairs.”
No kidding. She can’t even do flat pavement. It’s only about fifteen feet, but I’m basically carrying her toward the door. I turn around just as we reach it and see the driver grinning at me through the open window of the car.
Laugh it up, buddy.
Somehow we make it through the lobby, and Miguel has already summoned the elevator. When it arrives, he blocks the doors open for me. “Good night, Mr. Castro.”
“Night,” I grumble. “Thanks for your help.”
“Anytime.” He tips his hat to me as the shiny doors close.
He didn’t press the floor button, though, so now I have to do it myself. “Let’s see,” I say, parking my elbow against the paneling so I can stabilize myself and Heidi at the same time. Her body is in my way, and the first time I reach out to hit the button for the third floor, I miss.
“Goodness,” Heidi gurgles. “You’re like my ex-boyfriend trying to find my clitoris.” She smacks her hand on the console and presses the button. As well as two others.
That’ll do, I guess.
“Your ex-boyfriend?” I ask by way of conversation. “Let me guess. He was a hockey player?”
“Yup,” she says, snuggling her face into my neck. The elevator begins to move upward. “You’re my type. I love your body. It’s so…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. But one of her hands wraps around to explore my ass. “Wow.” Her hand travels all over my backside, then runs right up the center between my—
I twist away from her. “Getting a little fresh, are we?”
She kisses my neck. And I won’t lie—she smells good, too. Like citrusy perfume and bad decisions. I’m not immune to those soft lips on my skin. But she’s wasted, so we’re not going there. Maybe ever. Screwing a coworker was a bad idea from the outset, right? This is fate’s way of slapping my hand.
Ding! says the elevator as it arrives on my floor.
“Come on. Everybody out,” I say as the doors part.
“Sleepy.” Heidi puts her head on my shoulder. Then her knees buckle again.
But this time I’m ready and catching her is easy. “So it’s gonna be like that, huh? Miss Perky passes out?” Great. I’m talking to a sleeping person.
With a sigh, I tuck her head against my body and lift her cute butt with the other. I stagger into the hallway and toward my apartment door.
I would bet any amount of money that Miguel is watching this via the security cameras and laughing his ass off right now.
When I get to my door, I have a problem. Both hands are busy, and I still need to unlock. It’s a keycard setup, but the card is in my wallet.
“Come on now, Heidi,” I coax. “Now would be a good time to do your share.” I set her feet gingerly on the floor and nudge her arms to close around me.
She hugs me, thankfully, and I reach for my wallet.
“Is this your place?” she whispers in my ear. “Take me to bed.”
My lizard brain hears only the word bed in that sentence, and for a split second I can picture it in my mind. Peeling off our clothes and getting hot and heavy sounds much more fun than putting a drunk girl to bed and hoping she doesn’t puke everywhere.
But we can’t always get the things we want.
I fumble the door open, grasp Heidi, and carry her into my apartment. She doesn’t say a word, and I have the strange sensation of starring in that movie about the dead guy they haul around—Weekend at Bernie’s.