Oh.
Big-time bummer.
“Oh,” I whispered as I laid my hands flat on his chest.
His hands stayed where they were, keeping me where I was, but his head turned toward the front door.
“Not thinkin’ this is good,” he murmured.
“Why?”
He looked down at me.
“They both like a good time. They’re never home early.”
“Do they usually get in by curfew?” I asked.
“They’ve pushed it once or twice, but yeah, usually. Just never early.”
The door opened and both Buck and I looked that way.
It took approximately three quarters of a second to see why Gear and Tatiana were home early.
Gear was angry, very angry, spitting-venom-like-his-dad angry.
Tatiana was one hundred percent hammered.
“Do not give me shit,” Gear warned, his eyes on his father, his hand curled around his sister’s biceps, propelling her drunk-and-loose-like-a-ragdoll body into the house and slamming the door.
Buck had let me go and he was on the move, making a beeline toward his kids.
“What the fuck?” he clipped, not heeding Gear’s warning. “Didn’t I say look out for her?”
“Yeah, you said it. She just didn’t listen to a freakin’ word I said. I dumped three beers, she just got more and did shots of everything anyone would offer her. She was on a frickin’ mission to get totally and completely shitfaced.”
Oh dear.
I had a not-so-vague feeling this was my fault.
Buck commandeered Tatiana by taking hold of her other biceps and pulling her from Gear, who seemed happy to be rid of her.
Her head bobbing on her shoulders, she stumbled. Her feet shifting to right herself, she slipped off her heel, and then by what would seem from her state was a small miracle, she recovered. The whole time she looked up and didn’t exactly focus on her father.
“Hey, Daddy.”
She grinned at her dad, then gulped, and suddenly, Buck and Gear both moved quickly, each taking a huge step away from her as she bent over and vomited on the wood floor of the entry.
Ick!
“Fuck me,” Buck growled, his angry eyes aimed to the floor.
I moved while ordering, “Get her to the bathroom.”
“No shit, Toots?” Buck replied as I headed to his bedroom, but I looked over my shoulder to see that he had his daughter in his arms, and he was walking swiftly my way as Tatiana’s body heaved.
She was going to blow again.
I started running.
I hit his bedroom, went to the vanity in the bathroom where, in a drawer, I’d put my hair stuff, and grabbed a huge clip (one bonus of Buck not primping, I had plenty of space to move in, not only in the bathroom, but also in his closet and chest of drawers).
Procuring this, I ran to the bathroom that separated Buck’s office from Tatiana’s bedroom and saw Gear standing outside looking in, arms crossed on his chest, an expression on his face that said both, “Gross,” and, “My sister’s an idiot.”
I scooted by him and saw Buck standing in the bathroom in the same exact stance with the same exact expression on his face.
I passed Buck and got to my knees beside Tatiana, trying to ignore the sound and smell. She had a hand clenched in her hair, but she hadn’t captured it all and her head was over the toilet.
I gathered her hair, and she let me, her body heaving, her back bowing and contracting violently. I secured her hair in the clip and reached out to flush the toilet.
I looked up at Buck. “Can you get me a big glass of cold water?”
“She drinks it, she’ll puke it,” was Buck’s reply.
“She’s got alcohol poisoning. We need to rehydrate her at the same time counteracting the alcohol. Please, get me a glass of cold water.”
“Babe, it’s gonna come right back up and she won’t thank you,” Buck warned.
“I don’t want her to thank me. I want her to get that garbage out of her system so she’ll feel well enough to sleep without her foot on the floor because the room’s spinning,” I shot back. “Now, can you please get me a glass of water?”
Buck stared at me, scowling, but Gear offered, “I’ll get it.”
“Thanks, Gear,” I called because he disappeared.
I got up and walked to the bathroom closet. Opening it, I grabbed a washcloth and took it to the sink to wet it with cold water. As I did this, Tatiana spit into the toilet while alternately moaning.
“I got this, Toots,” Buck declared, even though he hadn’t moved a muscle and was still standing there, arms crossed on his chest, face like thunder.
I guessed him “having this” was him letting his daughter live the nightmare of over-imbibing in order to teach her a lesson.
I wet the washcloth and wrung it out.
“Why don’t you clean up the floor by the door?” I suggested.
“Oh no, babe.” He shook his head. “Only one’s cleanin’ the floor by the door is on her knees in front of the toilet.”