We are in chapter two of Split Decisions, but you can catch up here if you like; there’s a link that will bring you right back.
Caycee rolled out of bed, stumbling blindly to the bathroom. The room was dark, even though it had to be nearly noon. She felt the pounding in her head and parched mouth within seconds of standing up. Why did she do this to herself?
Pouring a glass of tap water, she swallowed four ibuprofen capsules in an attempt to escape the pain; though she knew it would never disappear completely.
Last night had started like every other night. First, they recognized her. Next, they would ask the bartender what she drank. Finally, they would introduce themselves toting two drinks, professing to be her biggest fan. If they were younger, they would talk about how they’d been listening to her music since high school, as if that should impress her. If they were older, they’d prattle, “I remember when that song came out I was…”
Always the same and it ended the same. They’d spend the evening talking, and then the man would offer, “Let’s get out of this place.” The stranger would take her to some quaint little bar, and when they could think of nothing else to discuss, it was always, “Would you like to come back to my place?”
Caycee never accepted. She knew they just wanted a trophy. Though she wasn’t as famous as she used to be, they would still enjoy boasting with their friends, “Guess who I slept with?” Well, she refused to play that game anymore.
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