I Had A Little Bit Too Much... (fic!meme fic for effiecat)
“I hate you.”
“Only because you didn’t drink enough water.”
“I still hate you.” Channing whispered, wincing behind sunglasses as she limped into the studio. “I woke up this morning with my blouse around my neck…inside out, I might add…and Rodolfo in my bed.”
“Oh my God, you did *Rodolfo?!?!* I thought he was gay!!”
Channing narrowed her eyes over the rims of her sunglasses, regretting it instantly as the strain of looking at Effie at such an angle made her head throb. “Rodolfo is gay.”
“Oh…my…God. C’mere, sit down and get a drink.”
An hour, five cups of water, and a little hair of the dog later, Channing felt a bit more human again with Effie’s help.
“So you don’t remember last night?”
“Part of the problem, you troublesome little minx, is that I do remember last night.” Channing sighed. “More or less. I remember the club, the wine…the beers…the Cuervo…”
“Those hot Nigerian guys at the bar who kept asking you to dance…” Effie goaded.
“That part I don’t remember…who did I end up on the floor with?”
“Molta. I danced with Kemba, and then Kyle cut in.”
“Where was he when I needed saving? I remember now…grabby, that one.” Channing replied, remembering a knee to the crotch and a pained black man with a fabulous body and clear blue eyes doubled over in the middle of Pure’s dance floor.
“Anyway,” she went on, finally rising from her seat on the floor, “when I got up I couldn’t find my phone or my damn keys. I had to take a taxi, which is why I’m late.”
“Kyle has your keys, and I have your phone.” Effie replied, leaping up far too gracefully to trot across the studio with light, rhinoceros-loud steps to search her purse. “You were going to drunk dial Sal Vieri, and I was too sober to let you.”
Horror cut through the migraine to the heart of her as relief followed closely. “Oh Lord…thank you, Effie. Now, if you’ll just point me at the Tylenol…”
“On top of the piano, Boss.”
With a very unprofessional, sisterly kiss to Effie’s cheek as she passed the other girl, Channing made a beeline for the bottle and popped it open.
“Eff, sweetheart?”
“Yyyyeeeeees?”
“Did I…say anything else about Salvatore?”
There was a brief pause before Effie showed up at her side again, offering Channing her cell phone.
“If you did, it was to me and no one else, and the Girlfriend Oath of Loyalty forbids me to repeat it to any living soul. Including you.”
With a small, grateful smile, Channing popped the pills in her mouth, chased them down with more water, and let her head fall to rest against Stephanie’s for a moment.
“I knew there was a reason I hired you.”
“Yep. To make you go out dancing, get drunk, and sleep with your gay chorus dancers. Oh, and teach you a crash course in ballet before I have to rehearse Monday’s jive with Tommy in an hour. C’mon, Boss, move it or lose it! We got work to do!”
With a massive groan that made her clutch her own head and curse, Channing obeyed.
“Only because you didn’t drink enough water.”
“I still hate you.” Channing whispered, wincing behind sunglasses as she limped into the studio. “I woke up this morning with my blouse around my neck…inside out, I might add…and Rodolfo in my bed.”
“Oh my God, you did *Rodolfo?!?!* I thought he was gay!!”
Channing narrowed her eyes over the rims of her sunglasses, regretting it instantly as the strain of looking at Effie at such an angle made her head throb. “Rodolfo is gay.”
“Oh…my…God. C’mere, sit down and get a drink.”
An hour, five cups of water, and a little hair of the dog later, Channing felt a bit more human again with Effie’s help.
“So you don’t remember last night?”
“Part of the problem, you troublesome little minx, is that I do remember last night.” Channing sighed. “More or less. I remember the club, the wine…the beers…the Cuervo…”
“Those hot Nigerian guys at the bar who kept asking you to dance…” Effie goaded.
“That part I don’t remember…who did I end up on the floor with?”
“Molta. I danced with Kemba, and then Kyle cut in.”
“Where was he when I needed saving? I remember now…grabby, that one.” Channing replied, remembering a knee to the crotch and a pained black man with a fabulous body and clear blue eyes doubled over in the middle of Pure’s dance floor.
“Anyway,” she went on, finally rising from her seat on the floor, “when I got up I couldn’t find my phone or my damn keys. I had to take a taxi, which is why I’m late.”
“Kyle has your keys, and I have your phone.” Effie replied, leaping up far too gracefully to trot across the studio with light, rhinoceros-loud steps to search her purse. “You were going to drunk dial Sal Vieri, and I was too sober to let you.”
Horror cut through the migraine to the heart of her as relief followed closely. “Oh Lord…thank you, Effie. Now, if you’ll just point me at the Tylenol…”
“On top of the piano, Boss.”
With a very unprofessional, sisterly kiss to Effie’s cheek as she passed the other girl, Channing made a beeline for the bottle and popped it open.
“Eff, sweetheart?”
“Yyyyeeeeees?”
“Did I…say anything else about Salvatore?”
There was a brief pause before Effie showed up at her side again, offering Channing her cell phone.
“If you did, it was to me and no one else, and the Girlfriend Oath of Loyalty forbids me to repeat it to any living soul. Including you.”
With a small, grateful smile, Channing popped the pills in her mouth, chased them down with more water, and let her head fall to rest against Stephanie’s for a moment.
“I knew there was a reason I hired you.”
“Yep. To make you go out dancing, get drunk, and sleep with your gay chorus dancers. Oh, and teach you a crash course in ballet before I have to rehearse Monday’s jive with Tommy in an hour. C’mon, Boss, move it or lose it! We got work to do!”
With a massive groan that made her clutch her own head and curse, Channing obeyed.