Bastian's Storm (Surviving Raine 2)

She’ll hate me for it.

I need to calm down, or I won’t be able to figure this out.

Just one.

I stopped thinking, tossed it back, and felt the burn as it slid down my throat. I dropped the empty glass back down on the top of the bar as the liquid coated my insides.

Can’t go back now.

“Another,” I said.

The bartender refilled the glass.

What the fuck am I doing?

The exit from Bar Crudo loomed in front of me as I stumbled toward it. I wasn’t sure exactly how a glass door could look so fuzzy, but it did. I glanced at my watch and realized I didn’t have much time before Raine would be returning from class. I had to get back to the condo.

“Sweetheart, you look like you could use a little help.”

I flicked my eyes in the direction of the effeminate voice to see a tall, African American man with bleached-blond hair. Upon closer inspection, I realized he wasn’t all that tall; he was just wearing ridiculously high platform shoes, which were mostly covered by his long, billowing skirt. Maybe it was a swimsuit cover up; I wasn’t sure. I blinked a few times and wondered if he was wearing a woman’s style bikini underneath.

He waved his arms around, nearly spilling the contents of his designer purse all over the ground, and called to another dude in a flowing, green-flowered robe of some kind. He had a tattoo on his arm that read “Don’t Judge,” and his eyebrows had thin vertical lines shaved into them. He checked for traffic before he walked across the street with his arms held out wide.

“Oh may gawd!” the second guy called out.

I laughed at the spectacle, which made me dizzy, which made me laugh more.

“You found quite a little chunk here, didn’t ya, sweetie?”

“I don’t think he’s doin’ too well, babe.”

I wondered what he meant but then realized I couldn’t quite stand up straight. I had to get home before Raine got there, and all the humor of the situation left me.

“Well, we should help him out!”

“You mean ‘help yourself!’”

They both started waving their arms around and squealing at each other in the most stereotypical way and didn’t seem to notice as I backed away and turned, fumbling over my feet a little as I made my way toward our building.

Only a couple of blocks…

Looking up the street, it seemed like a lot farther. I concentrated on that whole “one foot in front of the other” thing until I realized I had passed the entrance and was standing in front of the gelato place on the corner. Gelato sounded really good, so I went inside and tried to focus on the various flavors offered. I couldn’t seem to choose, and a bunch of tourists walked in and started placing their orders, occupying the woman behind the counter.

With my head still swimming, I forced myself back outside and made my way to the entrance of the condo building, swiped my keycard, and pushed open the security door. The elevators were on my right, and the door to the stairs was on my left. I veered left out of habit, went up three steps, fell down, and then used the banister to pull myself back up.

Just need to get inside…

I reached the second floor and decided I wasn’t going to make it up two more flights. I fumbled at the door handle a couple of times before getting it to open, then careened into the wall next to the elevator button. Somehow, I managed to get it to light up, and the elevator door opened.

There was a couple inside, probably in their late forties, dressed to the nines like they were heading to some dinner party. They took a step away from me as I entered and tried to find the number four on the key panel. Once I pushed it, I leaned against the wall of the elevator and kept my eyes to the ground.

“Are you all right, sir?” the man in the suit asked.

I laughed.

“Gonna have to kill a few people,” I slurred. “After that, all should be good.”

The woman’s eyes went wide as she grabbed the man’s arm and whispered something to him. He pulled her to his side and stepped back to press them both into the corner of the elevator.