Taste me, Daddy novel Chapter 2

"Hey, Maya!" Priscilla shouts way too enthusiastically for this early in the morning.

I wince and wave my hand in front of her. "Not so loudly, please..." I beg her and rub at my throbbing temples; it's like my brain switched places with my heart and my heart doesn't like my skull, so it's trying to break free to get back to my chest. "I woke up and you weren't there. I thought you left me alone in your house." I grumble as I examine her from head to toe and back; I frown as I take in the white t shirt that's at least three sizes too big for her. "Is that your Dad's shirt?" I ask her, then I glance at the bedroom door that she's grasping the knob on so tightly that her knuckles are white. "Did you just come out of your Dad's room?"

Priscilla takes her lower lip between her teeth and nods. "Yeah. Um...you missed a lot."

I frown as I take in her appearance, again. "You slept with your parents?"

Priscilla blushes, but shakes her head. "Not exactly..." she hedges, then she licks her lips and takes a step toward me; she grips my bicep and starts to lead me toward her bedroom. "You were passed out drunk when I came up to check on you, something that needs to stop, by the way!" she growls with an angry glare at me that makes me look away in shame. "You were sprawled out across my bed and you were dead weight; I couldn't move you and my parents were fighting, then my mom left, and all hell broke loose..." she trails off with a sigh as she leads me back toward her bed; she releases my arm at her bedside, then walks around the bed to sit Indian style on her side and grabs the pillow she hadn't slept on to hug it to her.

"Like you, my Mom got totally shitfaced last night." Priscilla says with an angry glare.

I blush, kick my shoes back off, then sit beside her on the bed; I can't sit Indian style because of my too-tight mini skirt, but I sit sideways on my left hip. "I'm so sorry." I say sheepishly and reach forward to touch her left hand; her Mom is usually a total bitch to her and even I know it only get worse when the woman drinks. I feel awful. "I should have been there for you."

Priscilla sighs. "My mom left in the middle of their fight."

I gasp, my eyes wide. "She didn't drive."

Priscilla nods and finally locks eyes with me. "She almost hit a woman with a baby stroller..." she explains and her eyes fill with tears of misery. "She was so drunk that she didn't notice a stop sign and she swerved to miss the baby, but ended up in oncoming traffic. There was a van with a family, two kids were hurt..." she explains and buries her face in the pillow to cry; she cries quietly, her shoulders shaking the only indication of her emotional state.

"Oh, shit, Pri..." I whisper, my hand moving to her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"No more drinking, Maya." she snaps, her water eyes locking with mine. "Swear to me."

I flinch as if she slapped me. "I'm not an alcoholic, Priscilla. I don't need to swear-"

"You drink to cope, to feel, to deal. It's the same thing." she cuts me off. "Swear it."

I frown, but nod. "Okay, okay. I swear. Not another drop. Ever."

She nods, then wipes the tears from her face. "Mom's in the hospital..." she says as if our odd exchange hadn't just happened. "I did actually leave you for a while because my Dad and I had to go see her, but she totally flipped. She's facing some real jail time and Daddy can't do a damned thing to help her this time, so she went ballistic on us both..." she trails off and her eyes glaze over as she relives whatever happened in the hospital.

"Pri, don't." I say and touch my hand to hers, again.

Priscilla snaps back to the present. "Sorry." she says smile as she looks back at my face, then she slides from the bed and smiles a real smile. "I'll get dressed, then wake up my Dad to drive you home. Why don't you go and have some orange juice to refresh your mouth?" she teases with a too-knowing smirk and a quirked eyebrow.

I blush and roll my eyes, then slide from the bed and scoop up my shoes. "Whatever."

Priscilla laughs softly.

I head downstairs and toss my shoes by the front door, then slip my feet in to a pair of flip flops that Priscilla always leaves there for me to use. I head into the kitchen and dig in the refrigerator for the carton of orange juice; as I'm pouring myself a glass, I hear doors click back upstairs and give a listen while I sip. I frown when I realize that it's ridiculously quiet compared to the usual activity in the mornings, but I shrug it off as my best friend being mindful of my hangover. After pouring myself a second glass of OJ, I look for the bread to make some toast just in time to hear Priscilla coming down the stairs.

"Bagels are in the freezer now, so they won't go bad as fast." she states as she does up the zipper and button on a pair of jean shorts; she's abnormally flushed for having just come down the stairs. "Daddy is gonna have a quick shower, then he'll be ready to drive you home." she explains with a deep blush before she breaks eye contact and moves to the coffee maker.

I watch her make the coffee and purposefully avoid my eyes. "What's wrong?"

She doesn't look at me. "What do you mean?"