focus.
In walks a tall, blond, “Helen of Troy” supermodel. Her blinding
smile stuns me. Laughing, she staggers as she bubbles excitedly, “Hey
Roomie!”
Chapter 3
“Hi, I’m Sally Westin, your new roommate,” she says giggling and swaying
in front of my bed. “You’re Amber Turner, right?” She squints,
struggling to make out the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Wow, is it
really one a.m.?” Shrugging, she goads me. “Wake up, wake
up.” She raises a bottle, “I brought Tequila and limes, or as my brother
calls it, Ta-kill-ya.”
She shuffles to the kitchenette without even a slight interest in any
objection I might have. Her short skirt sashaying as she moves.
Banging the bottle down as she bumps into the table, she laughs, holding her
finger to her puckered mouth, “Shhhh.” Pulling a lime from the bag on the
counter, she grabs a salt shaker, pulls out the cutting board, and takes a
knife from the drawer. Toeing off her ankle boots, she kicks them to the
corner. Her feet glow with hot pink neon socks.
Her face lights up. “We need music.” Running to her dropped
bag, she pulls out her phone, scanning her music. Looking up from the
floor, she asks, “What kind of music do you like?”
My hands wash over my face as I try to come alive from a dead
sleep. “Uh, older or newer stuff?”
“This isn’t a pop quiz, sweetie. Never mind. I got
this.” LMFAO blares from her phone. She moves, getting into the
music as if she’s forgotten I’m in the room. She dances over to her
rolling suitcase deposited on the floor by the empty bed, opens it, and
extracts two shot glasses. She smiles, looking down at her collection of
brightly colored glass in awe. Looking up at me with a sheepish grin,
shrugging offhand, she says, “I like shot glasses.” Standing up, with a
slight sway, she recovers and dances back to the kitchenette.
She wobbles as she pours two shots and glances at me. I wave at her
from my bed. Giggling, she takes a short dash, sliding on the hardwood
floor. Her hands stick out like a surfer for balance, stopping only when
she knocks into my bed. Clutching my hands, she pulls me up. “Get
up. Come on.” Once on my feet, she pulls my hand, nudging me to the
table, “Have a drink with me.”
Her contagious energy takes me along for the ride. She brought
Patron silver…cool.
Saddling up to the table, we sit and settle down to the business of
taking shots. Licking my hand, I shake on the salt. Burning the
entire way down, the liquor warms my stomach in an instant as I finish the shot
off with the sour lime. It’s smooth…really smooth. My first
shot, thankfully, is enough to get me going. Sally follows taking a shot.
“So, tell me about yourself,” she says, pulling her ponytail out, her
blond hair cascades down her back like she’s in a shampoo commercial.
“Not much to tell, really.” I shine her off, eyeing the empty shot
glass. I don’t know about this. I’m not much of a drinker.
My stomach does a slow turn.
“Come on! We’re going to be living together. There’s not much
to tell?” She eyes me with a skeptical look. “Ok, I’ll start.
I’m from Birmingham, Alabama. I went to school in Bama last year, but I
needed to get away, so I applied here. I’m undecided right now. I’m
trying to get all my gen Ed classes out of the way. My family wants me to major
in public relations, but I love fashion. I’d like to incorporate the two,
but I need to sit down with my advisor on how to do that. I doubt my dad
will go for it anyway. I’ve been here for one semester. I roomed
with another girl last term but that didn’t work out, so now I’m here.” She
smiles, “Ok, your turn.”
“I’m from Chicago. I spent last year there, and now I’m here.
I got here yesterday,” I say with a shrug.
Sally pours two more shots. “You’re