Page 1 of Collateral Damage

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Page 1 of Collateral Damage

1

“I’M SO SORRY, Bessie.”

Cricket tipped to one side, dropping against the chipped wall of the bathroom stall where they’d spent the past ten minutes.

“I bet you are.” Bess lifted one foot to push down the lever with the toe of her boot, flushing the toilet in the bar just down the street from the house they shared. “Was that Korean?”

Cricket groaned, covering her mouth with one hand. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Bess straightened fully, stretching her back and shaking out her legs. She’d been crouched behind her best friend the whole time they’d been there, doing her best to keep Cricket’s hair free of the massacre, and her feet were tingling from lack of blood flow. She held out one hand. “You think you can stand up?”

Cricket took a shaky breath. “God I hope so. I need to go the hell home.” She took the hand Bess offered and slowly rose, holding the other palm over her stomach. When she was finally on her feet, Cricket gave Bess a small smile. “You are the best, you know that?”

“You would do the same for me.” Bess wrapped one arm around her roommate’s waist to help keep her steady as they started for the door.

“I would try, but I’m not sure I could do it without joining you.” Cricket barely laughed, a belch coming out on the end of the sound. “Ew.”

“Pretty sure I’m going to need the name of that place when you’re ready to talk about it.” Bess pulled open the door to the bathroom, the sound of loud conversation and music smothering out any more conversation they might have tried to have.

Not that there was much to discuss. It was time to go home.

Thank God.

Four years ago when she met Cricket at college, the more outgoing woman immediately claimed Bess as her friend, pulling her out of her introverted ways and into as much of a social life as Bess would ever want to have.

Tonight was a perfect example.

“I should say goodbye to everyone before I go.” Cricket pushed against Bess, redirecting their trajectory from one aimed toward the door, to one pointed at the table of her equally outgoing coworkers.

“Hey, guys.” Somehow Cricket managed to smile and sound upbeat in spite of the fact that she was puking her guts out less than two minutes ago. “I think I need to go home and lay down.”

“I told you not to eat there.” Marcy, one of the nurses who worked on the same floor as Cricket shook her head. “That’s what always happens.”

Bess glanced at her friend. “You ate at a place thatalwaysgives people food poisoning?”

Cricket lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “I really wanted spicy squid.”

Watching her best friend barf for ten minutes wasn’t enough to make Bess gag, but just the thought of squid might be. “That’s not something anyone should ever want.”

“It’s so goo—” Cricket’s hand pressed over her mouth.

Bess shifted her friend’s weight as more of it leaned against her. Cricket was a good six inches taller than she was and at least twenty pounds heavier. Too much more leaning would most likely take them both down to the sticky bar floor, and that was nowhere Bess ever intended to be. “Okay. Time to go.” She gave the table an awkward-feeling smile and wave before maneuvering Cricket back in the direction of the door.

Cricket’s feet moved alongside hers as they worked their way through the crowded space.

Friday nights were always crowded here. Probably because most people liked to go out and drink and get a little wild. Forget everything weighing them down and let go.

Honestly, it’s what Bess was hoping to accomplish tonight too. Unfortunately, that just might not be in her skill set.

“You don’t have to take me, Bessie.” Cricket slowed down, turning back toward the table of her friends. “Go. Have fun.” Her dark eyes moved to Bessie’s. “You need it.”

God that was an understatement, but what Cricket found fun and what Bess found fun were two different things, and going to sit at a table with a group of almost-strangers wasn’t even close to what she considered a good time.

“I need you to survive the walk home.” Bess tried to pick up their pace. If Cricket was going to have another ralphing relapse, she wanted it to be outside in the street, not all over the already questionable bar floor and numerous people’s pants legs. “Keep moving.”

They were almost to the door when it opened and a tall, good-looking guy stepped in, blue eyes scanning the bar.

Cricket immediately lit up in spite of her current state. “There you are.”




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