Chapter Three

Just the tip?

Samantha

 

I’d like to say that walking to my car isn’t sending me into a full-blown panic, but I’m already sweating.

What if I’m having a stroke? I heard once that heart palpitations are common with uppers.  Wait, is that what acid is? Or is it a downer? I feel like all drugs should technically be downers because once you do them, your life goes downhill. I mean, there was a whole campaign in the eighties about it: Just say no…

Except for Eleanor—she says yes because she’s a drug whore.

Oh god, what the hell is going to happen to me?

I swing my head side to side, eyeing the different cars in the parking garage as I wipe my damp forehead. My breath spills out of me, sounding like I’m panting. I’m positive I look like a dog with a half smile as I walk quickly toward my car.

My eyes lock on the tires of a 2011 Honda Accord just as the brake lights shine. Wait…is that real? Are they backing up, or is the car about to turn into a fucking eagle or something?

Another thought halts my feet as I blink. How did I know what kind of car that is? I don’t know about cars. Have I turned into some kind of savant? Are people smarter on acid?

A woman exits the car, her head turning over her shoulder as she glances at me.

“Nice Accord,” I toss out, immediately wondering why the fuck I’m speaking.

Shut up, you high idiot.

She looks around, confused, then says, “It’s a Mazda…Miata.”

My brows hit my hairline as my feet start to move again, just like my mouth. “Yeah, it is.”

What is wrong with me? Is spontaneous combustion still a thing…and can that happen to me…please. Right now.

Too audibly, I clear my throat like a damn Viking as I face forward with purpose—not trying to witness my embarrassment—and walk just fast enough that it borders on that Olympic event where petite men almost run.

 “Deep breaths…rainbows and butterflies,” I whisper to myself.  

My keys jingle in my hand before I press the unlock button to my car, my shoulders jumping past my ears at the sound.

“Fuck.”

I suddenly remember this kid in high school who was rumored to do acid and now thinks he’s a rooster—like always. I used to think it was an urban myth, but now I think my future might include a human coop and glued-on feathers.

“Where the fuck is the egg gonna come from?” I say shakily while plucking open my door and sliding in so quickly that I almost take my own head off.

My heart’s racing, and for whatever reason, my eyes start blinking in rhythm as I grip the steering wheel.

Holy shit, I’m dying on Christmas Eve, in my car, sans an orgasm and high as fuck. This is not the way I pictured my last moments, but I guess nobody ever really knows how they’re going to go…unless you’re that one lady with the big hair who does the psychic readings.

I should call her.  

My head shakes as I search the space before me.

“I’m disowning her…completely. How could she? This is the worst Christmas ever.”

A loud noise, maybe a door closing, makes me jump again. I spin in my seat, my arms extended out in front of me defensively, my hands in fists before I wince and grab my elbow.

“It’s never funny when you hit it…dammit.”

What am I doing? I need to get it together. I’m not even sure this has really kicked in. So far, I’ve hallucinated sex and maybe attained an overly exaggerated confidence in my car recognition capabilities. Still, I can’t drive home. God only knows where I could end up.

I scramble for my phone, opening my Uber app and summoning a car.

Eleanor said to relax. She said I had to stay calm, so I put my hands on my chest and try to take a few calming breaths with my eyes closed.

Oh my god, why am I such a nerd. I can’t even do high right.

The seconds turn into minutes, and the minutes turn into what feels like hours as I sit locked in my car, knee bouncing, waiting for my phone to give me a little ding that my car’s arrived.

Deep breaths, I say inside my mind until I scowl. Why did she have to put that in my mind that I have unresolved shit left with Cole? There’s nothing unresolved.

They asked me to marry them, I said yes, and then they started fighting over who was going to be my actual legal husband. So, I said no, thanks, and left. It’s pretty simple, Eleanor.  

From where I sit, I think we dodged a bullet. Because that was just the foreshadowing. There was no way marriage was ever going to work. We were already too crowded for jealousy to take up space.

Suddenly, my chest feels tight, and there’s a lump in my throat, so I swallow hard and grit my jaw, speaking aloud…only to myself.

“Love is only a construct created by people to sell flowers and expensive real estate. It’s not real. You can’t really have what you want or who you want, and the sooner we realize that, the better.”

I can feel the frown lines permanently forming on my face, but before they get too deep, I’m startled as the car radio kicks on. My eyes almost bug out of my head.

“What the fuck!”

The DJ’s voice is dark and velvety. “And now for a classic—”

If I thought my eyes were big before, they’re growing wider by the second because blasting out of my radio is a song I never want to hear again.

“Christmas, don’t be late…here’s Alvin and the Chipmunks.”

“No no no no no no no no no…” This is not happening.

Those shitty little chipmunk rats are squeaking as I look around the car. Hold on, how did the radio turn on?

Oh god.

Is it happening again?

I begin patting my cheeks, breathing too rapidly as I start manually locking the doors. Cole is not getting in here. I’m not getting car fucked and left needy again. I lean over the middle console to smack the lock closed on the passenger side when a knock at my window makes me scream and punch the ceiling.

“Fuck. Shit. Son of a bitch!”

I blink a hundred miles a minute, frozen in place and still awkwardly laid over into the passenger side because standing on the other side of the driver’s window is a man.

A tall drink of water in a camel-colored wool coat.

I crane my neck to get a view of his face just as he winks.

Oh fuck. Before I say a word, I fall a bit more, making my foot knock the door. There’s nothing but silence as the window glides down all too slowly.

Strong forearms rest on the frame of the opened window as familiar green eyes pierce mine.

“Hey, sunshine.”

Reed.

I shake my head. “Why…what are you…I called an…”

Not one full sentence makes it out of my body before I twist my arm free of myself and look at my phone. Where the Uber app used to be is now a text message.

Me: Super high. Need a ride. Tip is guaranteed.

Reed: Just the tip? But think about how much you’ll like the ride.

“Oh my god.” My face snaps up to Reed’s, a shit-eating grin on his.

The door clicks open. I’m righted and shoved into the passenger seat as he gets in. I’d yell at him, but all my breath is lost because Reed’s hand is in my hair, and his tongue is already down my throat.

The moment he pulls away, he stares down at me.

“Fuck, I missed that. Also, don’t freak out.”

My brows draw together as I say, Huh, following his gaze to the front window.

Holy fuck. The world is a blur; everything that was once in front of me before is now cycloning like some kind of bad special effects in an old episode of Star Trek. It’s all spinning around and around.

“What the fuck?”

“I said, ‘Don’t freak out,’” Reed chuckles as the car shifts into drive. “Hawaii, here we come.”

“Hawaii…” My face snaps to his. “But that’s—”

“From two years ago?” he cuts in. A grin gathers over his face as I swallow, fully realizing I’m tripping balls.

“We’re time traveling?” I say weakly, wondering if this is the moment I lose all sense of reality forever.

Awesome. It’s official, I’ll be walking around the rest of my life thinking I’m in a different decade, depending on my mood. I never had too many friends before, but this’ll solidify my era of me, myself, and I. Who needs people when I can exist all alone? That’s what everyone wants… There are songs about it, like the one Bridget Jones sings at the beginning of that movie where she’s fucking miserable and drunk. Good times.

I hate my sister.

Reed grips the steering wheel and smiles wide. “Of course we’re time traveling. I’m your ghost of Christmas past, sunshine… Now, buckle up, baby. Everyone gets dizzy at this part.”