Sweet Evil (The Sweet Trilogy #1)(82)
“So, where do you wanna do this thing, kiddo?” he asked.
Patti was busy with the drinks, but I knew she’d heard by the way her colors went haywire. I shrugged. I didn’t want to do “this thing” in front of Patti. She brought the glasses of tea over and set them on the table.
“You know,” she said, “I’m real tired, and I got a new book from the library yesterday, so I’ll just be in my room this afternoon. Why don’t y’all stay here, and I’ll be nearby if you need me. I can come out and make dinner later when you’re ready to take a break.”
I nodded my agreement. As long as she stayed back there, I could do it. Patti leaned down to kiss my cheek, and then headed back to her room.
“Stuff’s in the car.” He hitched a thumb toward the door.
I went out with him to help, even though he insisted he could get it himself. My eyeballs popped when I saw the layout in the backseat. All sorts of snack foods, along with bags and bags of bottles: beer, wine, liquor, juices, sodas, condiments like cherries and limes and olives. We hefted everything up the stairs.
I can’t believe I’m about to drink with my father. This was wrong on so many levels.
The drinks and ingredients that needed to be chilled were put in the fridge, and the rest were set out on the counters. I rubbed my arms, feeling jumpy inside. At least it wasn’t a buffet of drugs, because I would be a harried, frantic mess by now.
“Nothing wrong with having a drink, Anna.” He set out two shot glasses and I sat down in front of one while he poured something clear. I looked at the bottle. Rum. “We’re never told not to drink. Just warned against drunkenness. There’s a fine line between the two, and all we’re doing is trying to find yours. You’ll be drinking a lot of water and eating as we go. Should help you some.” He pushed my shot glass forward. Mine was not as full as his.
“I’ll need to see your colors to help me gauge your intoxication.”
I assumed it would be a relief to let down my mental guard, but I felt exposed and didn’t like the way my dad’s eyes squinched up when he saw my colors. I’d been trying not to think about Kaidan, but that only made me think of him more. My dad pinched the bridge of his nose. I was guessing he didn’t think dark pink passionate love had any business being in his little girl’s wardrobe of emotions. But he didn’t say anything about it—only let out a jagged sigh and began.
“Note the time. You’ll need to pay close attention to the time when you drink. You got a watch?” I shook my head, and he took his off, tossing it at me. “Use this one tonight, but get yourself one right away. It’s three twenty-five. Pick it up.” We both lifted our tiny glasses. “Drink the whole thing at once. Don’t try to sip it or take multiple swallows. And don’t you dare spit it out.”
Got it. No problem. I could do this. The liquid was clear, like water. A bubble of giddiness rose up inside me as I followed his lead, bringing it to my lips and tilting back my head.
Gah!
My entire face, mouth, and throat lit on fire as the gulp made its way down. I coughed and sputtered and smacked the table. My father laughed and clapped me on the back. I let out a sputtering breath and could not wipe the disgust from my face.
“Good job not spitting it out,” he said.
“That was terrible! Why would anyone purposely drink that?”
And then the warmth hit. It started in my chest, went down into my belly, and bloomed throughout my limbs.
“Oh.”
“Nice, huh?” he asked, but he wasn’t smiling anymore. He was studying me as I ran my eyes over the bottle of rum, then up to the counter where the other bottles stood in line, waiting for me.
“By the end of the night, you won’t flinch anymore. You’re gonna get mad at me at some point when I tell you no more, but I need you to learn to recognize that moment in yourself when one more drink will put you over the edge. Only you can control yourself, baby girl. For tonight I’m gonna whistle when you need to slow down and rein it in. Got it?”
“Got it. But I was wondering. Um, are we going to train with drugs, too?”
“You’re not gonna do drugs, Anna, ever.” Deadly conviction was in his voice. “There won’t be any buzz with drugs when it comes to you—you’ll pass Go and head straight to the equivalent of drunkenness. Only worse. I don’t plan for you to work at all, but you need to have some basic knowledge in case of some unforeseen circumstance. Now, are you ready to drink?”
I nodded my head and he frowned. It would appear I’d nodded with too much enthusiasm.
Nine hours, two pizzas, one fight, three instances of vomiting, a million whistles, tons of snacks, and countless drinks later, we learned that I could have one drink every eighteen minutes, or three in one hour. Absolutely no more. Even with my body’s ability to burn the alcohol, I was what my father deemed a “lightweight” or “cheap date.” If I were to drink on a regular basis my tolerance would increase, but for now we’d be conservative with our estimates.
I’d learned the recipes for the most popular cocktails. I knew I hated straight shots of anything except tequila. I was definitely a tequila girl. Wine soured my stomach. Beer was my safest bet.
There’d been another little scuffle between Patti and John Gray when she came out to make dinner. She’d been upset when he insisted we order pizza rather than making her cook. The kitchen was a disaster. But pizza was a luxury we never splurged on. When he pointed out that she was being proud, she crossed her arms and pouted, telling him to go ahead and order the “stinkin’ pizza” then.