33. Dameon
Chapter thirty-three
Dameon
I gnoring the buzzing of my phone, I flip it over, face down, on the bar.
“Are you going to answer that?” James asks.
“Nope.” My chin is resting on my linked hands on the sticky bar as I stare blankly at a TV playing AFL rematches. A nearly empty bottle of cheap whiskey sits beside me on the bar.
He blows out a breath. “Are you coming into the office today?”
“Nope.”
“Well, you need to do something. Starting with a shower, ’cause you fuckin’ reek.”
He’s right. I’ve been here since yesterday afternoon, rooted in the same spot at the bar, only moving when I need to take a piss. The bartenders have left me alone to wallow in my misery, and for that kindness, they’re going to receive a hefty tip. James joined me around midnight, and we’ve been shooting the shit all night, getting wasted.
He picks up my phone and shoves it in my face. “Answer your damn phone.”
I ignore him and return my focus to the TV. James checks his Rolex and sighs. “We’ve got a meeting with New York this morning, I assume you’re not coming?”
“Nope.”
“Alright, I’ll handle it. I gotta go and shower, then,” he says, standing up and stretching out his back. “You should do the same,” he adds pointedly. “Seriously, Dameon…” He waits until I turn my head to look at him. “Go home, shower, sleep it off. I know you’re fucking pissed. I would be too. But you need to speak to her. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”
“Mmm,” I grunt, still fixated on the TV.
“If I remember correctly, you once told me not to be a fucking idiot. Now I’m returning the favor. But this time, actually listen to me, and don’t repeat my mistakes.”
“I’m not that stupid.” The corner of my lips tilts up.
James slaps me on the back. “Good, I’m outta here.” He throws a couple of notes on the bar before leaving.
He’s right; I should go home and sleep this off. I’m too drunk to think about it anymore. I scrub a hand down my face, feeling crushed by exhaustion. Picking up my phone, I open the unread messages, scrolling through a series of texts from Hailee. They range from We need to talk to Please, don’t do this and Dameon, call me back .
The latest text that just came through is longer than the others:
Hailee
Since you’re being a stubborn jerk and won’t talk to me, you’ve left me no other choice. I. AM. NOT. PREGNANT. I don’t know why that pregnancy test was in our bathroom or who it belongs to, but it’s not mine. I’m telling the truth. I’m NOT Mia. I would never try to trap you or manipulate you like that. You know ME.
I type back my response.
Me
I thought I did. But I also thought I knew Mia. How do I know you’re telling the truth? That this isn’t just another lie?
The text bubbles instantly pop up:
Hailee
It’s the truth. If I have to pee on a stick in front of you and take a blood test, I will.
Me
Water sports and needle play ain’t my kinks.
I exit our chat and mute our conversation. Then I dial the number of the only person who I know can help me through this.
“Good morning. It’s Dameon Hayward and I need to see Dr. Edward Avery today. It’s urgent.”