Slow Ride (Fast Track #5)(61)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Her jaw dropped. “You’re breaking up with me in the middle of the cancer benefit?”

Again, when put like that . . . “No, of course not! I just think we need to take a step back and think about some things. Talk when we’re calmer. When you’re sober.”

Her lip curled in disgust. “A break is a break-up and you know it. Thanks for ruining my night.” She pushed the door to the ballroom back open and tossed her hair back as she wiped the tears from under her eyes. She looked vulnerable, but she had straightened her posture and steeled her voice. “Have a nice life, Daniel.”

A steel pipe to his knee would have hurt less.

He watched her go, wondering what the hell he had just done.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

TUESDAY got trashed at the cancer benefit to honor her father. After her fight with Diesel, she had stalked the waiter and had made him rustle up an unopened bottle of wine for him, which she then proceeded to drink in an hour. She was conscious of the fact that she wasn’t walking entirely straight and that her tongue had gotten too big for her mouth. When a reporter she knew asked her some interview questions, she had a hard time thinking up answers and she giggled way more than normal.

But she didn’t really realize exactly how loaded she was until her mother pulled her into the hallway. “You need to go home,” her mother told her.

“Why?” Tuesday tried to lean over and hug her mom but she stumbled a little and got distracted. Her mom looked beautiful, elegant, and classy, and she’d given a brief speech before Tuesday had gotten trashed after the argument and breakup with Diesel. Had she and Diesel really broken up?

God, that sucked.

Tuesday felt tears rise in her eyes. “Diesel and I had a fight.”

“I know, he told me when I asked him to take you home. I don’t think I should leave and he pointed out he probably shouldn’t either. It looks better if he and I continue to show our faces all night. So he said he asked Kendall to take you home.”

Yeah, she was definitely drunk because none of this was making any sense to her. “Why do I have to go home?”

“Because you’re embarrassing me,” her mother said quietly and firmly.

That shocked her. She was embarrassing her mother at her father’s cancer benefit? Tears filled her eyes.

Without warning, all the wine decided to make a reappearance and Tuesday turned and threw up into the pot of a fake palm tree in the lobby.

When she stood she was vaguely aware of eyes on her, then the night went black.

TUESDAY remembered coming to in the cab and bawling on Kendall, then proceeding to drink two more glasses of wine at home before she passed out for the night.

Now the next morning, she had a pounding head and a broken heart. And a deep, deep shame that she had embarrassed both her mother and her father’s memory by acting like a drunken idiot at the benefit. Fighting the urge to throw up, she fumbled for her cell phone and dialed her best friend.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kendall asked by way of greeting.

“I guess.” Taking stock, she counted a throbbing head, a swollen nose, an earache, a stomach that was alternating between knots and nausea-inducing flips, sore shoulders, aching feet, and a mouth so dry licking sand would improve its moisture content. Not to mention a pain in her chest so severe it took her breath away, and even after being awake for five minutes, she’d already had repeated attempts to fight back tears. She pretty much wanted to die, but she was assuming the physical pain would recede. The heart was going to take a while to heal, if ever.

“Did I say anything really inappropriate last night? How many people saw me puke?”

“You ranted about Diesel, but no one heard that. You were obviously drunk, but you didn’t say anything awful. I’m not sure how many people saw you puke, but I’m guessing at least one or two. I came out right after and I knew you needed to leave. But you managed one more glass of wine before I could haul you to the car. You have ninja skills when you want a drink.” Kendall said it lightly.

But Tuesday just sighed. “Thanks. You’re the best best friend I could ask for. I can’t believe I ditched out on my own benefit.”

“Diesel just broke up with you. I don’t blame you. No one would blame you.”

“It just proves I’m completely weak. I hate that. I want to be in control.” She fought with that every day. She tried to control her life and the environment around her and when she couldn’t, she went off the rails.

“Everyone does. But honey, there are just some things beyond our control.”

“I know.” She looked at her nightstand, wishing a glass of water would magically appear. Diesel had asked for a break and she had definitely given him one—he hadn’t had to deal with her drunk ass the night before. “I need to learn to let go. Diesel once asked me what my issues were, and I think it’s safe to say that’s it . . . I want to control everything and when I can’t, it’s bad.”

“There are definitely worse issues to have, and if you know that about yourself, you can work on it.”

“Yeah. I want to.” She closed her eyes, hoping the pounding would recede a little. It didn’t. “I always thought men were the problem, not me, that they were selfish. But who wants to be generous emotionally or otherwise with someone who has a steel vice on their own feelings and the relationship in general?”

“I think you’re being really hard on yourself. You’re right, you shouldn’t have had so much wine last night. That wasn’t cool. But Diesel needs to give a little, too.”

Maybe it was time to be hard on herself. This wasn’t how she wanted to live her life. “I went up to the podium and told the whole room Diesel would do the very thing he said he didn’t want to do. I humiliated my mother. I flubbed an interview. And I barfed in a bush. I don’t think it’s possible to be too hard on myself.”

She closed her eyes, trying to blink back the tears. God, she was a mess. A complete disaster. “Did that interview air?”

Kendall hesitated. “Yes.”

That wasn’t encouraging. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“It could be better. It could be worse.”

Tuesday hauled herself into a sitting position and reached for her laptop. She hit a few keys, searching for the interview on the local news.

“Tuesday, I don’t think you should . . .” Kendall’s voice was filled with concern.

“Oh, my God.” Tuesday put her free hand over her mouth as she saw herself on the screen, wavering on her heels, her hair out of place. Her eyes were narrow and she had a lazy grin on her face. It was more than obvious she was drunk.