Tansy Taylor by Kathy LaMee

over his shoulder. She had sprinkled a few shots of Grey Goose in amongst her pints of ale and she was definitely on her way to completely plastered. Dancing would be good, as well as some fresh air.
    “If you don’t mind?” He asked, looking at me. His eyes bore into mine, as if I was his target. I was flattered but knew I needed to be careful.
    “Oh, by all means, you should join us.” I picked up the shot glass and what was left of a shot Becca had bought me and tossed it back. Then I gave Johnny what I hoped was a totally platonic smile, but it felt like it may have come across a little on the drunken slutty side.
     
    Two clubs and who knows how many drinks later Johnny poured Becca and I into a cab. I could barely stand up between the alcohol and my sore leg muscles. Why I had decided to wear the cute boots and not something more dance-friendly was beyond me; this always seemed to happen! I knew I’d regret it even more in the morning when the alcohol had worn off.
    “You girls sure you’re going to be okay?” Johnny asked, leaning in the door of the cab.
    “You betcha.”
    “Yup.” We answered simultaneously. Becca blew Johnny a drunken kiss and he smiled.
    “It was fun hanging out with you guys; we should definitely do it again sometime.” He looked right at me when he said it.
    My heart did a little flip flop and I gave a little sigh and a smile. He waved the cab off and headed back down the street. I watched his nicely toned backside walk away in the opposite direction.
    “He is such a hottie!” Becca said. “But, why was he calling you Sandra? I was getting so confused.” Her face was still registering this confusion, but I couldn’t focus on her for long or I got the spins. I shook my head.
    “So, you’re just going to spend the night at my place tonight? Right?” I asked.
    “If you don’t mind. I’m not sure where we are, but I think that the cab ride from your place back over to my place would break the bank, ‘specially since I think my wallet is in my car.” She flung her arm at the back window, indicating the receding skyline of downtown.
    “No problem.” I sat back and tried to focus on the world outside the cab in an attempt to suppress my nausea.
     

     
    The next morning I woke up to the sound of a car alarm going off nearby. I pried my eye open and tried to focus.
    “What time is it? I can’t see the clock.” I said to nobody and felt around in my pockets and found my cell. It told me that it was ten o’clock. “Oh, man, too early,” I said in reply. The only problem is once I was awake it was pretty much a done deal; besides, I didn’t think I’d be able to get back to sleep with the incessant beeping and ringing going on outside. An angry voice had joined in and soon I felt like I was in Jersey and not Portland with all the swearing and alarms going off.
    “Ugh!” I pulled a big fluffy pillow over my head. This was not the way that I wanted to start my Saturday morning.
    Defeated, I sat up and stretched my arms up over my head. The more alert I became the more I noticed the cotton growing in my mouth and the dull throbbing in my head.
    After I brushed my teeth I threw on some sweats; I had still been in my jeans from the night before. I stumbled downstairs and found Becca snoring on the couch. I left her there and went into the kitchen and scrounged for some ibuprofen and a Coke. Don’t get me wrong, I love my coffee, it would be considered sacrilegious if I didn’t being from the Pacific Northwest where Starbucks was born and all. However, Coke was my usual drink of choice when I had a hangover. This morning definitely qualified as a hangover. I downed one on the spot and then cracked a second one open to take with me. The sugar hit me and I gave an involuntary shiver.
    I wandered back into Jeni’s studio and found her hard at work. Her long blond hair was tied up out of her face with a piece of scrap fabric.
    “You’re such a slave to your business!” I