Chapter 51 - Nadia

Braden whipped his head toward me. “Nadia?”
“There must be a mistake…” Tony said, gesturing at me. “Nadia is a sweet girl, and the one you described sounded so angry…”
Mrs. Williams had an entire new look on her face. One full of rage like that day last month when I’d gotten fired from the department store. The day I accepted Braden’s proposition.
“I’m…” I said, but my head was spinning. The tequila was in full control now, making it hard to focus on things around me. Everything kept going blurry no matter how hard I concentrated.
“This is the girl you bring for us to meet?” Mrs. Williams snapped. “A drunk hussy who’s personally attacked me before? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Mom…”
“I’m sorry,” I managed to get out before running from the restaurant.
Running wasn’t the right word. I stumbled. I was white-girl wasted, and my path from the table to the front door probably looked like a squiggly line.
The last thing I remember was the hostess shouting at me.

*

I woke up in my bed with a pounding head and my eyes crusted over with gunk. I groaned and caught a whiff of my own breath, which almost made me choke.
How did I get home? Everything was a blur. I glanced under my comforter and saw that I was still fully dressed in my rehearsal clothes. My shoes were off, though.
I glanced at the window, but the sunlight reflecting off the fire escape was so bright I closed my eyes and rolled back over.
A knock came on my door. Ryan poked his head in. “There she is. I thought I heard you stirring.” He came inside and put a glass of water on the bedside table. “Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”
My throat felt like a desert. I gulped down the water so fast I almost choked.
Ryan returned with a tall glass of something brown in his hand. He sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed the hair out of my face. “This is my homemade hangover cure.”
I pushed up into a sitting position and accepted the glass. “What’s in it?”
“Raw eggs, spinach, chocolate protein powder, and orange Gatorade mix.”
I made a gagging sound. “Why did you have to tell me?”
Ryan grinned. “I call it a drunk Easter bunny. Come on, drink it down.”
“This isn’t the kind of thing I want you to force down my throat.”
Ryan barked a laugh. “You’ve still got your sense of humor. That’s a good sign. I promise it’ll help with your hangover.”
I sighed and took a sip. It tasted foul, like a fruit salad and unsweetened chocolate all mixed together, but it wasn’t as bad as I had expected. And my stomach approved of being filled with something.
Ryan grimaced as he watched me drink. “I’m sorry for getting you drunk.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“You’re right,” he admitted, “but I knew you had dinner plans with Braden’s parents. If I wasn’t busy feeling sorry for myself I could have reminded you.”
“Or I could have remembered myself, since it was my responsibility.”
He smiled and put a hand on my leg. “At the very least, I wouldn’t have let you match me shot for shot.”
I winced at the memory of the tequila. Never again.
“I appreciate you trying to make me feel better,” Ryan went on. He ran a hand through his auburn hair. “Everything else aside, that meant a lot to me. Especially how you bluntly told me I was suspicious of Atkins for no reason. I needed that reality check.”
“I was just putting the buddy in fuck-buddy,” I said. “You would have done the same for me.”
He smiled and nodded at the drink. “Finish it up. Every drop.”
I groaned but obeyed. Each successive gulp was easier than the last, until there was only a thick brown residue left on the outside of the glass.
“Atta girl,” Ryan said. “Right on time too…”
Andy pushed his way into my room. “She ready?”
“I think so,” Ryan said.
Andy was carrying a tray that had legs on the side so it could be placed over someone’s lap, which he did for me. There was a plate full of bacon and eggs, and a smaller plate with three pieces of toast and a little bowl of jam. A glass of orange juice rounded out the breakfast.
Ryan watched me. “You’re not going to throw up all over it, are you?”
“I’m good. This is amazing! Thank you.”
Andy sat on the bed next to Ryan. “You looked like you needed it.”
“Just double-teaming you with care,” Ryan said.
I laughed as I dug into the eggs. They were already salted and peppered to perfection, and tasted fluffy and delicious.
“What do you remember?” Andy asked gently.
“Not a lot. I left the restaurant. That’s about it.” I winced. “Did I do anything stupid when I got home?”
“No, but you missed a lot of excitement,” Ryan said.
“What kind of excitement?”
Ryan jerked his thumb. “Andy here got in a fight with Braden last night.”
“What! Why?”
Andy removed his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt. He looked distinguished and cute with them on, but he had a devilishly handsome face without them. “I was angry at Braden for allowing you to wander home by yourself. It’s a miracle you got home safely without passing out in a subway station somewhere. Braden should have stayed with you.”
“He was with his parents though,” I pointed out. “I’m the one who fled from them without warning.”
“Then he should have called us to come meet you,” Andy insisted. “Or hailed a cab.”
I pursed my lips. “I’m a big girl. I don’t need an escort.”
Ryan laughed. “That’s a stupid fucking thing to say. Everyone needs help when they’re trashed. That’s what friends—or more than friends—do for one another. Anyway, Andy let him have it when he eventually got home. The whole townhouse practically trembled from the shouting. I’m shocked you slept through it.”
“He should have worried about your safety first,” Andy said. There was an intensity in his voice I hadn’t heard before. “Even if he was angry with you in the moment.”
I reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thank you for worrying. Does this mean everyone heard about how the dinner went?”
Ryan and Andy grimaced. That was answer enough.
“So that day you got fired from the department store,” Andy said. “That was for cussing out Braden’s mom? Calling her a bitch?”
“Apparently so,” I grumbled. “Now that I think about it, my boss did call her by name, Mrs. Williams. I didn’t put two and two together.”
Ryan leaned in with a sly smirk. “Between you and me, she is a bitch.”
“Right? It’s worse when you’re trying to sell her a pair of shoes three sizes too small.”
“Having said that,” Ryan said, snatching a piece of bacon from my plate, “I would never say it to her face. That would be dumb.”
“You should go back in time and tell me that a few weeks ago.” I gulped down half the glass of orange juice and sighed. “Should I go talk to Braden?”
Ryan and Andy shared a look. “Well,” Ryan said, “he got up early this morning and left before the rest of us woke up. We haven’t seen him all day.”
I felt a moment of relief that I wouldn’t need to confront him until later. Then I realized what else Ryan had said.
“All day?”
Andy laughed and held out his watch. “It’s 2:00 in the afternoon.”
I groaned back into my pillow. “No wonder I’m starving. I’ve missed three meals.” I quickly sat up straight. “Hey. Does anyone know what happened to Tatiana?”
“Nope,” Andy said. “Not a word. It’s been radio silence from Atkins.”
“I hope she’s okay.”
Andy reached behind him and pulled a folded up newspaper from his back pocket. “There is this, though.”
It was the Entertainment section of the New York Times. One article was circled in pen:

OFF-BROADWAY SHOW BRIMS WITH POTENTIAL, UNTIL DISASTER

I groaned as I read the article. “So the writer was impressed until Tatiana injured herself.”
“And has serious doubts that the show could be a success without the star,” Ryan said.
“Maybe we can invite him back for the next rehearsal?” Andy wondered out loud. “If he sees Nadia he’ll change his mind.”
Suddenly all three of our phones vibrated at once, and Ryan’s chimed. Andy pulled his out first. “An email from Atkins. He’s called a meeting before rehearsal tonight. That’s all it says.”
“Uh oh. That can’t be good,” Ryan said grimly.
“I guess we’re going to find out what happened to Tatiana.”