When my cell went off during lunch, i didn't even see the caller ID. I though it might have been my boss asking me to work today.
"Cameron Davies, you complete bloody idiot!"
"Becca?" I was genuinely confused. "What's going on?"
"Got a headache today, Cam?" she asked. Her voice was, well, terrifying. She was utterly ticked, and I knew it. I did have a headache, because I banged my head on a door yesterday.
"Well, as a matter of fact, I hit my head the other night-
"Or should I just call it a hangover and get it over with? What were you thinking?"
"Hangover? I don't know what you're talking about, Becca."
"Don't lie to me! What were you doing last night? I saw your eye when I passed you earlier. Do you remember anything?" she demanded.
Well, time to set the record straight.
"Actually, I was working last night. There was champagne there after we closed, but I didn't have any. Although if it's your boyfriend who told you, he's a liar. I work with him."
"He wouldn't lie about this to me, Cam." she stated. Great, she was already delusional.
Seriously? That complete moron told her I was drunk. He told Becca I was drunk!? And after he stole a whole fricking bottle to take home?
"Sure he would. After all, he told you that I was drunk and fought someone. I'd have been fired, understand? My parents would have sent me to a mental hospital! I don't get hammered, whatever you think."
"Really, so how did you get that black eye?" she asked. She probably thought she was being smart.
"Your idiot boyfriend smashed me into a door." I snapped. "Why don't you ask him what happened? I'm sure he'll come up with something."
"I already asked him, Cam. That's why I'm talking to you now. I'm not a complete air head yet, if you're wondering. Not by your standards, anyhow."
"That was low." She knows what I think of jocks and cheerleaders.
"No it wasn't. It's wanting both sides of the story." her voice was a little too smooth.
"Alright, I had one sip from my brother's glass." I amended.
"Cam, I know you. Dont' forget that." Was she laughing? Or crying?
"One. Small. Sip. To please my boss. I promise."
I'm dead meat as far as Rebecca Plotnik is concerned, but I was never drunk.