Free Reparation by Stylo Fantome Page B

tingle sometimes, when I drink. Fingertips, toes, lips, all that good stuff. How's your vision?” she went on. He shrugged.
    “Perfect.”
    “I meant,” she laughed, “are you seeing double yet? Things a little blurry?”
    “No. Should they be?”
    “Not necessarily. So is it everything it's cracked up to be?” she asked. He shrugged again.
    “I'm not sure I see the appeal. I feel like I am stuck in slow motion. How does anyone get anything done like this?” he said, his words coming out slow. She laughed again.
    “You're not supposed to get anything done. You do it to relax, have fun, be brave, whatever,” she told him.
    “Brave?”
    “ Liquid courage . Makes you uninhibited, makes you do things you wouldn't normally do,” she explained.
    “Like take a whole bottle of xanax and swim in a pool?”
    He could've hit her and she would've been less shocked. She licked her lips.
    “Yes, things like that,” she whispered. His eyes finally met hers, and he stared right into her.
    “That's not very courageous, or brave,” he commented.
    “I know. Sometimes, alcohol can make you the stupidest fucking person on the block,” she managed a laugh.
    “I was very upset with you. You worried me,” he told her, his voice full of bite. Another shock.
    “I'm sorry, Sandy. I wasn't in my right mind. I won't ever do that again,” she replied, staring back at him. He looked angry. She didn't think she'd ever seen him look angry.
    “And Jameson ..., I was so upset with him. Angry. I was angry at him,” Sanders stressed. Tate nodded.
    “I know. Me, too.”
    “But I have forgiven him. Why can't you?” he demanded.
    “See, this is that uninhibited thing I was talking about,” she pointed out. He waved his hand in the air.
    “I was counting on this,” he replied. “Why can't you forgive him?”
    “I'm trying, Sandy. I really am. You know, don't you, that I wanted to hurt him, too, like I wanted to hurt Ang,” Tate said softly. He nodded.
    “I had figured that much out. I just couldn't quite understand why. You said you forgave him, for Petrushka, for his cruelty,” he explained, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. She had never seen him in such a relaxed posture.
    “I know. I lied. I didn't believe him. I don't know if I believe him, now. I just can't stop feeling this way. Like, why was Pet in Spain? Did he tell her he was there? Did he tell her what night club we would be at? When we were going to the apartment? And Ellie and Ang. I refuse to believe he didn't know about that – how could he not!? I mean, he booked them onto a plane he paid for! He keeps things from me, he messes with my head, and I -,” she started to ramble, and could feel her blood pressure rise as the memories flooded into her brain. Sanders held up a hand.
    “No. He doesn't. I do, ” he said quickly. She blinked at him.
    “Huh?” she almost grunted, stunned.
    “I knew Petrushka was in Spain, I saw it on the internet. The other things were merely a coincidence – Jameson frequents the restaurant that he took you to, he is friends with the owner. I'm sure she knew he would turn up there sooner or later. I never told him she was in the country,” Sanders explained, rolling his glass between his hands, his eyes never leaving hers.
    “Why wouldn't you tell him that?” she breathed. She felt like she had been tasered. She had been so angry, the whole time, at the wrong person. And the right person ..., she didn't think she could be angry at him.
    Not him. Not fair.
    “Because it would have upset him and I do not like to do that. It would have upset you, and I do not like to do that, either. I knew she was a problem between the two of you that needed to be dealt with it, so I left it to happen. Which it did. Rather nicely. I am not prone to violence, but I can honestly say, there was something enjoyable about watching you hit her,” he said, and she thought she could detect a hint of a slur in his voice. She gave a