Our Song (10 page)

Chapter 14

An hour later, Skylar was dancing with some hot Latin guy in a corner of the room and I was accepting a drink from a guy who’d offered to buy me one. He wasn’t really my type, but I needed more booze and if he was willing to foot the bill, why the hell not? Sorry, not sorry.

I glanced over at him. He looked familiar to me with his large, parrot-like nose and his longish blonde hair and five o’clock shadow. And then the reason I recognized him hit me.

“I know. You’re Owen Wilson!” I blurted.

He let out a little laugh. “No, I’m not Owen Wilson. I do get that a lot, though. My name’s Christian. What’s yours?”

I didn’t answer him, because I was too focused on my next question. “Christian, are you a Christian?”

His eyes widened a little at my question. “I don’t go to church, but I believe in God,” he replied with a shrug. “I guess that makes me a Christian.”

“What a coincidence. My ex-boyfriend thought he
was
a God.” I thought about it for a moment and then added, “Well, I guess he might be God of the toilet or sewage or something, because he
is
a shithead.” I laughed at my own joke, snorting a little.

I was a freaking riot tonight. If this whole music career thing didn’t pan out, maybe I could go into stand-up comedy. I was pretty confident that with a few drinks in me, I had what it took to be the next Amy Schumer.

Christian grew silent for a long moment.

What did I say wrong? I had no clue. Come to think of it, I had no clue about
anything
… except for the fact that the room was beginning to spin around me, almost like I was on a Tilt-a-Whirl. What the fuck?

“So, I didn’t catch your name,” he finally said.

“Really? You don’t know it already?” I stared at him with wide eyes. Did he live under a pop music rock or something? I was Viola freaking Pierce.
Everyone
knew my name. (It was just a fact).

“Well, you didn’t tell me it. Do I look like I’m a psychic or something?” he joked.

I laughed. “You’re funny! Maybe you
are
a psychic. I don’t know.” I paused for a moment. “Are you related to that
Long Island Medium
lady? You actually look like her. You’re both blonde. Though I think hers may come from a bottle. But you have the same eyes,” I noted, staring into his brown eyes. “You know, come to think of it, you have the
same
exact eyes as Jake, too.”

“Jake?” His eyebrows rose in question.

“Jake Palmer… God of the sewage or the toilets or whatever,” I explained disgustedly.

Owen Wilson/
Long Island Medium
Lookalike whose name I had already completely forgotten just stared at me with a dumbfounded, blank expression on his face. “I see. Hey, do you want to dance?”

“Sure. I like dancing. I’m like a dancing queen,” I said, tilting my head back with in laughter, as I followed him out onto the dance floor. “I especially like
Dirty Dancing
. Hey, is Patrick Swayze your dad? You sort of resemble him.”

Owen Wilson/
Long Island Medium
/Patrick Swayze Lookalike laughed as we began to dance. “You seem to think I look like everyone.”

“No, not
everyone
. You don’t look like Colton King,” I said, slurring a little. “Colton King is a sexy man beast.”
Which you are not.

Crap. I wasn’t sure if I said that part aloud or not.

“Colton King? I heard he’s gay,” the guy said.

I laughed out loud. “Where did you hear
that
crock of shit?”

He shrugged. “It’s just one of those well known facts. Kind of like how everyone knew Ricky Martin was flamin’ long before he came out of the closet.”

“I can tell you for a
fact
that Colton King isn’t gay. I hooked up with him. Yup, that’s right. Me and Colton King got it on,” I slurred proudly, grinning sheepishly and doing a little happy dance. Yeah, in my drunken state, I totally thought I was the coolest.

He laughed. “I think we should probably cut you off soon. I think you’ve had a little too much to drink.”

“No, it’s true,” I insisted, tightening my grip on my martini glass in defense. “Colton King and I had sex.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.” He smiled down at me and added, “I’ll let you call me Colton King if you let me take you home later.”

I shot him a look of disgust. At that moment, I just happened to glance up and spot a pair of familiar light blue eyes gazing in my direction from across the room.

“Look, there he is now,” I slurred, peeling myself away from Owen Wilson/
Long Island Medium
/Patrick Swayze/Not Colton King Guy. “Thanks for the drink.”

Walking away from him, I headed straight for Colton. I straightened out my shoulders and kept my head held high, in my best attempt to strut my shit.  

“Colton! What are you doing here?” I said when I approached him. “Wait, you
are
Colton, aren’t you?” I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at his possible imposter.

“You’ve had so much to drink, you’ve forgotten who I am?” He stared back at me amusedly.

“It’s just that I’ve never seen you at the Wild Frog before, but I guess it makes sense that you’d be here. You like frogs. You want to write a song about Kermit.” I snorted. “Hey, why is it even
called
the Wild Frog, anyway? There are no wild frogs here. I wonder if they keep them in a back room or something.” My eyes darted around the room in search of a tank or aquarium that I envisioned containing the type of brightly colored frogs you would find in the rain forest.

A small smile touched his lips. “How much have you had to drink, Viola?”

“I’ve only had five drinks… or maybe six or seven. Who really keeps track of stuff like that, anyway?” I said with the wave of a hand.

His eyes scanned the bar. “Who did you come here with?”

“Finn, but he’s not drinking ‘cause he’s a party pooper,” I replied sadly. “Skylar’s also here dancing with some hot guy.” A realization hit me then. “Actually, I wonder if he’s
Ricky Martin
! He looked like Ricky Martin and then that Owen Wilson guy was talking about Ricky Martin.”

“What Owen Wilson guy?” Colton’s eyebrows knitted together.

“Oh, that guy over there,” I said, motioning over my shoulder. “He looked like Owen Wilson, but then he said he wasn’t Owen Wilson. But he never denied that he might be related to that lady on
Long Island Medium
or Patrick Swayze, so I’m pretty sure he must be.”

“You’re not even making any sense. I think we should get you home.” He glanced around. “We should probably bring Skylar with us.”

I shook my head. “No, let her stay. Finn is watching her. And she’s livin’ la vida loca!”

“Well, I’m going to at least check with her first. Can you wait for me right here?”

I nodded.

He didn’t look too convinced. “Are you
sure
? You won’t go anywhere?”

“I promise not to go anywhere. And I won’t talk to any strangers who might abduct me.
I pinkie swear.” I held out my finger.

He locked fingers with me before heading off in Skylar’s direction. I stared at his ass as he went. God, I could just stare at that ass
all
day long.

Yeah, right. We didn’t even see each other enough for me to stare at his ass all day.

I realized that there was a way that I
could
stare at it all day if I wanted to. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and opened the camera. I zoomed in on his ass and snapped a picture of it. I thought for a few minutes about who would appreciate a picture of his fine ass just as much as I would.

Opening a new message, I attached the picture and texted:
Guess who these sweet cheeks belong to? Hint: his name rhymes with Molten Ring!

I laughed aloud at my little joke—if you could even
call
it a joke—and then hit ‘Send’.

A moment later, Natalie’s text popped up on the screen.
WTF? Did you just send me a picture of Colton King’s ass? And are you drunk?

I texted back:
Guilty on both counts.

R U planning to sleep with him again tonight?

Before I had the chance to answer her, Colton was heading back in my direction. Since I didn’t want him to know that I’d just sent someone a picture of his ass, I quickly stuffed the phone back inside my purse.

“She said she wants to go home with that guy,” he explained to me, motioning over his shoulder at Skylar. “The thing is… she actually seems like she’s completely sober, not to mention of age to make her own decisions. Who am I to stop her?”

He would’ve made the worst human breathalyzer ever, because Skylar was
so
not sober, but whatevs.

“She bangs! She bangs. Err, she
will
bang.” I giggled. “Don’t you love my Ricky Martin references? I wonder if he’d like them. Maybe I should go tell him.”

Colton laughed. “I hate to break it to you, but he’s not Ricky Martin. Not even close. Come on, tiger, let’s get you home.” He wrapped an arm around my waist as he guided me toward the door. I felt myself stumble a little, but having his arm around me prevented me from falling flat on my face.

“I’m so glad I got rid of those bad luck shoes,” I commented. “I would have fallen right now.”

“Bad luck shoes?” He raised an eyebrow.

“These shoes I threw away. They were cursed, I’m telling you. Cursed,” I slurred.

“You’re so far past the point of human comprehension, it’s not even funny.” Colton simply shook his head in amusement as we stepped out into the warm night.

I realized that I hadn’t said bye to Finn, but then I decided that I would just text him later. I turned to Colton. “Where’s your limo?”

His lips tilted into a small smile. “What makes you think I brought a limo tonight?”

I shrugged. “I just assumed.”

“Well, you assumed wrong. I drove myself. I’m parked right over here.” He led me to a sporty little red thing that was parked at the outer edge of the parking lot.

When we approached it, he unlocked the doors and opened the passenger side, letting me in.

I climbed in. I didn’t even bother to tuck my dress underneath me. I didn’t even care if my shit was hanging out. It wasn’t anything that Colton hadn’t already seen. Been there, done that.

As he slid into the driver’s side a moment later and pulled out of the parking space and onto the street, his eyes darted over at mine. “What were you thinking tonight, Viola?”

“Well, I was thinking that guy looked like Owen Wilson. Then, when he asked if he could buy me a drink, I was thinking that if he wanted to buy me a drink, I should just let him buy me one, because my career is halfway gone and I might be broke soon—” I started to explain, but he cut me off.

“No, I wasn’t asking what you were literally thinking. What I meant was why did you get so wasted tonight?”

“Oh! That’s an easy answer,” I told him.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Do you want to enlighten me?”

“Sure, I can give you a lesson. It’s really easy. All you need to do is mix vodka and tequila and gin. Oh and Jack—can’t forget good ‘ol Jack…. and voila! You’ll be wasted.” I grinned, proud of my accomplishment. “It works just like magic, except really
easy
magic. I bet Harry Potter wouldn’t even need to use his wand to pull this shit off.”

As Colton stared at the road ahead of him, his lips remained in a flat line. “So, what are you trying to say? That you
tried
to get this wasted?”

“Try again later.”

He glanced over at me, his eyebrows knotted together at the center of his forehead. “What?”

“Try again later,” I repeated. Then I burst into a fit of giggles. “Get it? I’m like a magic eight ball!”

He shook his head, clearly frustrated. “Damnit, Viola. Why would you intentionally get this drunk?”

“Because I needed to.” I rolled my eyes, as though the answer should’ve been an obvious one. “It was the only way I could get through tonight.”

“What do you mean? What happened tonight?”

“I had to see the asshole,” I said quietly, choosing not to elaborate on who the ‘asshole’ was. I figured that everyone in the world should already know who he was, just for the simple fact that he was the assholeiest asshole of all the assholes on the planet.

Colton remained quiet for a few long moments.

Finally, he broke the silence. “I just wish you wouldn’t drink so much.”

I glanced over at him sharply. “Why? Do you have a problem with it?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I
do
.”

“Well, it doesn’t really matter what you think.” I shook my head angrily. Who did he think he was to think he had any say in the amount of alcohol I ingested? We’d had a one night stand and we were co-songwriters; that didn’t give him the right to go acting like he had any right to parent me. “I haven’t had a father my entire life. I don’t need one now.”