Falling Down(153)

"You can't know what that means to me." Cage Nichols has worked with some of the biggest names in music and we did him proud.
"I know. You deserve this. Two weeks until the tour. Practices and PR every day until then, except for tomorrow due to travel," he tells us all. We nod our agreement.
"All right, boys and girls," Xander shouts. "Let's go party!"
We laugh. "Shower then party."
***~~~***
We walk down the strip, drinking, gambling, and being outrageously obnoxious. Amazingly Jesse and the guys only get recognized a couple times--likely due to Jesse's haircut that he hasn't shared with the world yet.
The guys are just as hammered as we are, stumbling around laughing. Around two in the morning I get the brilliant idea to scour the entire city of Las Vegas to find the real Elvis, because everybody knows Elvis isn't dead (rolls eyes at self).
I lose track of time somewhere around Caesar's Palace.
***~~~***
Oh my God, my head. Someone kill me. I crack open one eye, or try to, and it hurts like a mofo. I am never drinking that much again. Damn whipped cream Pinnacle and root beer. I take a deep breath and that hurts too. I groan. Jesus, what the hell time did we get in last night? I don't remember anything after looking for Elvis in Caesar's Palace. Fucking Elvis. That was some of the dumbest shit I've ever done. Because everyone knows Elvis is alive. Xander fist bumped me and it was on. He became my partner in crime.
I try again to open one eye to look at the clock. How the f*ck is it possible for my eyeballs to hurt? Unh. Two-fifteen in the afternoon. Wow, and I still feel this bad. I wonder how we got back to the hotel. Is Jesse even in bed with me?
I slowly and cautiously roll onto my back. One never knows if they're going to end up having a hangover accompanied by vomiting and with the queasiness I'm experiencing, I'm thinking I may be one of the unlucky pukers. I need some water and ibuprofen like yesterday. I turn my head and I see Jesse passed out cold.
I lift my hand to rub my eyes in hopes to open them both when my hand flops onto my face.
"Ow, what the f*ck," I say. Something hard and sharp hits my face. Great, as if this hangover isn't enough. Now I'll have a bruise or some scrape or something on my forehead. At least I have two weeks for it to heal, whatever damage I've done with whatever the hell is on my finger. Did I get my nails done last night? Poke my eye with the acrylic? I move my thumb to touch my fingernails. Nope. God, even doing that hurts my head. How is that possible?
I'm going to have to open my eyes and it's going to hurt. I rub my eyes again--no damage done this time. Thankfully.
I open one eye then the other. There are clothes thrown all over the hotel room, my bra is hanging from the lampshade. Damn. I bet we had some really amazing drunk sex and I don't remember it. Just then a couple flashes of hard, pounding sex with Jesse flashes through my mind. Oh, those images… oh yeah. Wild monkey sex it was.
I breathe through the headache pain. It's evil. Never again.
"Unh," I murmur, trying to wake Jesse. He doesn't even flinch. Shit, the way he's so still, I hope he's not dead. Wouldn't that be just the way shit's been going for me lately? Apparently I swear a lot when I'm hungover too.
I reach out to go and shake him when a flash blinds me. What the f*ck is that? I'm full of all kinds of questions--and right now I've got another one.
"Holy. Fucking. Shit." Is that a wedding ring? I wouldn't do something stupid like that. Besides, Sera was there to make sure I wouldn't, right? Right??
"Oh my God. Jesse!" I screech, shaking him looking at the gorgeous diamond ring on my wedding ring finger. It really is so pretty--focus. Married! WHAT!
"Jesse, get up!"