A Woman's Worth


He opened his eyes to the sound of raindrops hitting the window pane next to his bed. He groaned as he felt a familiar throbbing; it had been a long night, and he was getting up in an attempt to face the day, when he realized he wasn't alone. Three different feet were sticking out from under the sheets and clearly only one was his. He glanced to his right, and came face to face with a blonde, fast asleep with her arm wrapped around an also sleeping redhead, both women snoring ever so lightly. He shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to remember the events of the night before.

He looked around the room and uttered a silent prayer that there were no more surprises hiding in the rest of his apartment. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, only to realize he was standing in something wet.

"Shit!" he moaned softly, not wanting to wake up the beauties currently occupying his bed. He grabbed a shirt off the floor and dried his foot before lifting it up to his face and smelling it; beer. As he walked out of his bedroom and into his living room he could smell the stench of stale cigarettes in the air.

"Fuck!" he said, in a voice much louder than the one he'd used before, as he looked around.

Empty and half full bottles of liquor and beer were strewn all over the room, half eaten plates of food laid on the coffee table, and the front door had been left wide open. He shook his head in disgust as he padded softly into the kitchen and grabbed a carton of orange juice out of the fridge. He didn't even bother with a glass, bringing the carton up to his lips he began to chug the juice as fast as he could. When he was done, he walked over to the couch and plopped down, not caring about what or whom he could be sitting on. He groaned as he looked around once again; it was going to take him all day to clean up— it had the last time. The whole routine was getting old: the nights of partying, the hangovers the next morning, the unfamiliar women he woke up with, and the clean up thereafter. The whole scenario exhausted him mentally as well as physically.

He was just about to get up and wake his guests when he heard a ringing coming from under him.

"Fuck!" he screamed when he realized he was sitting on his cell phone. Standing up, he proceeded to throw the cushions on the floor until he found it.

"Hello," he barked, as the naked redhead walked into the room and stood in front of him, a sly grin on her face.

"Luke," he heard the voice on the other end say,

"Jake is that you?" Luke asked as the redhead walked out of the room.

"Yeah man, it's me. I have some bad news and there is no easy way to say this. It's Nate. There was an accident last night, Nathan's dead."

"What?" he asked, hoping he had misunderstood. The color drained from his face when he realized he hadn't. "What happened?" he asked as he sunk back down on the couch.

"The police are still trying to piece it all together, Luke you need to get back home; it's a big mess."

"I'll catch the next flight out," he said not giving Jake a chance to finish his sentence. Without any hesitation he snapped his phone shut and ran to his bedroom to pack for his trip back home.