Triple Shot
Triple
Shot
by
Ava
Riley
of Contents
Triple
Shot
ISBN-13
-
978-1-61258-048-7
ISBN-10
-
1-61258-048-3
ALL
RIGHTS RESERVED
Copyright
© 2012 Ava Riley
Cover
art by Bret Poinier
This
book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or
places, any events or locales is purely coincidental. The names, characters,
places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and are not to be
construed as real.
No
part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without
the express written permission from the publisher LazyDay, with the exception
of quotes used in reviews and critical articles.
Dedicated
To
To
Staci and Lazy Day Publishing ~ Thanks for continuing to believe in this writer
and the gang from Long Beach!
To
my husband, Marc ~ there aren’t enough words in this lifetime to express the
love I have for you in my heart. I am proud to walk by your side, comforted
that it is your embrace I feel each day, and blessed that every single day it
is your face I see first thing in the morning and the last at night. Thank you
for believing in me and for your constant support.
To
ALL my family and friends who have enriched my life on a daily basis…thank
you!
And
last, but of course not least, to my three writing professors at the University
of New Mexico…Katie
Pelletier,
Marisa Clark, and Samantha Tetangco. You all have inspired and encouraged me
to be a better writer by your words and have added very helpful tools to my
writing toolbox. Thank you!
Chapter 1
Peering out the window of her small two
bedroom apartment, Susan Lismore leaned her head against the cool glass and
closed her eyes.
This just keeps getting better by the minute
, she
thought as raindrops pelted against the only barrier between her and the dreariness
outside. She couldn’t remember the last time it had rained so much in Long
Beach. Yet, what manifested itself outside in the wet darkness served as a
reminder of what stirred within her spirit for well over six months now. Loneliness
didn’t even come close to describing the mixture of emotions she dealt with day
in and day out. Since Tessa’s wedding, Susan sat by and watched while all her
friends fell in love as she laughed off her singleness in an effort to hide the
real pain she felt in her life. That pain meant dealing with the declining
health of her mother, and watching as her father battled daily to stay strong
for the woman he committed his life to as she withered away before their eyes. The
barrage of emotions she faced from day to day only intensified by the reality
of not having anyone to help ease her burden her. This was the life she had
been ushered into and it was hers to travel alone.
Pushing away from the window, Susan drew
the blinds and closed off the world outside. She grabbed her comfort foods for the
night from the coffee table and plopped herself on the burgundy sofa that all
but consumed her living room. Absolutely nothing screamed pathetic more than a
twenty-six year old with her legs tucked under her and a bag of chips in her
lap on a Friday night. She flipped through the multitude of recorded shows on
her DVR, a sad reminder that she’d had very little time to even breathe lately
because of work and family obligations. Her mother’s recent move from Susan’s
childhood home into the Alzheimer’s unit at Long Beach’s Nursing Facility had
put a strain on her and her father, consuming any time that she may have had to
herself.
Susan paused at the one show that would
be sure to turn her sour mood into a full blown pity party. An all-night
marathon about housewives who had too much money and time on their hands was
exactly what she didn’t need, but she went with it all the same.
What the
hell
, she thought. It certainly couldn’t get much worse than it already had
been. In all honesty, Susan needed a good old pity party right now. Maybe if
she did a jig with the depression knocking at her door, she’d get it out of her
system and get back to being the carefree, take shit as it comes, person she’d
been her entire life.
A few hours later, she ended up in a
fetal position, wishing like hell she’d just taken a few sleeping pills and
gone straight to bed instead of trying to leave her sorrows at the bottom of an
empty chip bag. She found herself lying on the cool tile floor of the only
bathroom in her apartment, her cheek pressed to the flooring trying to find
relief from the heat consuming her skin after having paid homage to the
porcelain gods. An all-night worship session hadn’t been in her plans, but
nonetheless where she spent the majority of her evening. Mustering up as much
energy as her body would allow, Susan pushed herself off the floor, and rinsed
her mouth out with cold water from the faucet. She didn’t even bother with the
glass sitting on the counter. She wrapped her lips around the cold metal like
it would be her last opportunity to fill her mouth with liquid. When her
stomach could no longer accept anything else, she slowly made her way to her
bedroom and crawled into the full-size oak bed her parents bought her when she
first moved out of their house. Susan didn’t worry with undressing herself, instead
she buried her head under the piles of pillows that littered her cozy bed and succumbed
to the darkness that surrounded her.
Susan should have stayed in bed for a
few more days. The pressure in her temples and the flip-flopping of her stomach
confirmed that last night’s binge did indeed take place; that it hadn’t been a
dream as she first thought when she peeled her eyes open. She actually felt
worse than any hangover she’d ever had. Wiping the drool from the edge of her mouth,
she pushed disheveled blond hair from her eyes, before glancing at the clock
for the first time. Her eyes had to be playing tricks on her because she surely
couldn’t have slept well past two in the afternoon. Yet, once they came into
full focus, the clock on her bedside table confirmed it was two twenty-five. Her
sugar coma from last night apparently was more severe than she’d thought when
she all but crawled down the hall to her bedroom. Susan rolled her tired body to
the edge of the mattress and placed her bare feet against the worn tan carpet. She
curled her toes several times, a habit she picked up in high school to try to
wake up completely, and rubbed the palms of her hands along her thighs. She
took her time easing herself from the bed with her eyes half closed; she
stretched her back as she shuffled her feet towards the bathroom to take care
of necessary business. As she washed her face, feeling the grit that settled
overnight on her skin, she let her thoughts wander back to Tessa’s wedding. She’d
only gotten to briefly talk to Tessa, only giving her congratulations to the
bride and hugging the groom, but they’d both promised to get together for lunch
at some point in the near future. That seemed like a lifetime ago. She needed
to call Tessa and make that lunch date happen before she found herself buried
with work again. The last opportunity Susan and Tessa had to spend any real
quality time with each other had been shortly after they worked together on a
fundraiser for the hospital. Tessa had photographed doctors and Susan had the delight
of interviewing them. Since that time, Susan hadn’t gotten to see much of the
woman who had quickly become her closest friend.
Susan walked past the evidence of last
night’s food binge, as her cell phone vibrated across the glass coffee table, and
stopped just at the empty chip bag. She needed to replace her moment of
weakness with a steaming cup of java, not conversation. Out of habit, however,
she quickly snatched it up, and saw Tessa’s name staring back at her. She slid
the small green arrow to unlock her phone and answered the call.
“Hello,” Susan choked out, her voice
sounding as if she’d just spent the last twenty four hours chain smoking.
“Susan? Oh good I was hoping you’d
answer.”
“Hi, Tess. What’s up?”
“Are you okay? You sound like you’re sick?”
Tessa asked.
Susan shook her head as if the two of
them were on video chat. “No, just paying for last night’s pity party.”
“Pity party? Why are you –"
“Not worth talking about,” Susan
interrupted.
“Well,” Tessa’s voice hitched, “I was
hoping that maybe you’d like to get together tonight. Cade and Rowan have a
friend coming in from Texas and we’re all going to The Launchpad for drinks
later this evening.”
“Is this friend a doctor also?” she
asked, always upbeat about the prospect of a doctor
friend.
“Yes, he’s a doctor.” Tessa’s laughter
drifted through the phone. “He went to school with Cade and Rowan.”
“Sure, I have nothing else to do. And
you know me; I’m always up for new friends. What time?”