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Stuck by a Drummer- The Adventure Continues
The two men who'd duked it out with Steve in the not-too-distant past were standing outside, on the sidewalk, apparently arguing. One was waving his hands in extreme agitation, the other looked frustrated even behind his massive Ray-Bans. We sat there, agonizing about whether they would enter the cafe. If you thought about it logically, what could they do in a crowded environment like this one? But that fact did not calm our heartbeats or lessen the feeling of impending doom
Finally, they resumed walking. Steve and I exhaled slowly, loudly.
"My God, that was close," I said.
"Too close." Steve paused as the waitress brought our coffee. When she moved on to the next booth, he said, "We'll stay at the hotel because the security is extremely tight there. You'll be safe while I do some investigating of my own."
"You will? How?"
"I have my resources." He gave me a reassuring smile. "KC, babe, I wasn't raised at Buckingham Palace. A lot of the kids I cut school with are now very....influential adults."
I didn't inquire further on the meaning of influential. I just stirred cream and sugar into my coffee and took a sip, letting the strong English brew give me an energy boost and remove the last of the drugged-out fog from my brain. I wasn't feeling well at all. The sight of the two goons outside had gotten my pulse racing, and the aftermath was now a VERY upset stomach. I'd hoped the caffeine would do what it usually did when I drank it while wired: calm me down. But my stomach failed to fall into line with the rest of my system.
"Steve," I said in strangled tones, "any idea where the toilets are in this place? I think I'm gonna-"
I never finished my sentence. In front of all and sundry, I leaned over to one side and puked all over the tiled floor. Steve reached across the table to hold my head down and keep me from hurling on my lap too. I'm sure everyone was grossed out, although they were too polite or stunned to let on.
"Fuck, girl," Steve said when I finally stopped. He took a napkin and wiped my mouth for me. "Either the shit they used to knock us out has really fucked you up, or you're getting morning sickness at the wrong time of day."
"I need to lie down," I begged. I meant it. The bucket of ammonia that the annoyed kitchen staffer had just plunked down beside my chair was making my head throb and my stomach rumble warningly again.
Steve tossed some pound coins onto the table and helped me out of the booth. I was so ill that I didn't even apologize to the poor fucker who was mopping up my vomit. I just clung desperately to Steve's arm as we left the cafe and climbed into a cab that he hailed. The ride back to the hotel was a haze of blurry buildings, the rumbling of the taxi motor, and Steve's voice murmuring soothingly in my ear.
When we were finally dropped off in front of the hotel, I just led Steve lead me towards the canopy. I was practicaly sleepwalking- until Pete's screech of "Stiggy! You'll never believe what's happened!!!" jarred me awake, and fast.
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