The BACHELORETTE Project (The Project: LESLEE Series) by Tami Anthony Page A
Authors: Tami Anthony
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what you do, Karen,” I start calmly. “YOU DON'T TELL THEM… ANYTHING !" I shriek. Karen's bottom lip starts to quiver like she's about to cry. I don't mean to hurt her feelings in any way, but it's my parents: my crazy, psychotic parents! There are reasons why I distance myself from them. One reason being that they drive me absolutely insane!
"I was afraid that something horrible had happened to you with that oddly shaped tumor on your head ," Karen says and I turn away from her. "Anyway, they're on their way up here. I didn't know this would make you so upset. I'm sorry."
I sigh in frustration. "Give me my clothes. I' m getting out of this hospital H ell." I begin to sit up and attempt to get out of the bed. Thank the Lord they left my underwear on or it'd be a full moon.
"You can't go, Les," Mike says. "Not until they release you. You have a head injury."
I look Mike up and down then look directly into his eyes, fuming. "If you don't let me go, I will shove those hospital latex gloves up your ass , now move ." Mike moves to the side and I push myself onto the floor. "I have to go," I keep saying as I look for my clothes. "I have to get out of here before—"
"LESLEE!" Fuck! I think to myself. It's the little Korean woman ready to ruin my life. I try to hide behind Karen and it doesn't work. My M om walks into the room and spots me right away. Maybe if I jump out the window ... "Leslee, what did you do to yourself?” she asks. “What is this bump on your head?" I surrender. I move from behind Karen and let my mother see all my glory and embarrassment.
"I just had a little accident, that's all," I respond leaving out as many details as possible. I don't even know how much Karen told her. Hopefully not too much.
"Honey, if you want to dance on table s , that ’s fine if you ’re getting paid," m y mother says and Mike begins to laugh.
I groan in frustration. “Mom,” I start, “I was not dancing on any tables. And can you please not say those type of things here? This is a hospital, not a strip club. Where are my clothes?!" I yell in frustration. Get me out of here!
"You cannot leave, Leslee!" Mom says and I igno re her. "The d octor says no, not yet."
I pick up my clothes from the chair and get a large whiff of marijuana. Ugh! I begin to cough as I make my way into the bathroom and close the door. I instantly look in the mirror and my eyes widen. I can not believe how horrible this thing looks on my head! It looks worse than a mini disco ball. It looks like if I put a sharp pin to it, it would completely explode. Double ugh!
I hear a knock at the door. "Leslee?" I hear a stern and manly voice say. It’s my Dad. This situation cannot get any worse. I continue to get dressed and he continues to knock. "Leslee, it's your father. Open the door!" What am I, 12 years old? Who does he think he is? I'm a grown woman trying to get dressed here! I swing open the bathroom door with my hand on my hip.
"Dad, a little privacy maybe?" I snidely say as I push past him and sit on the hospital bed. I look around t he room for my shoes. “My shoes, ” I say. “Where the hell are my shoes?” I think for a second and my memory floods back into my brain. “Oh,” I say. Now I remember. I threw my shoes at the disco ball at XO Lounge therefore my shoes are probably still there. Shit.
"Nice to see you, too, Leslee, " Dad replies and I just roll my eyes.
"I really do n't want to hear a lecture, Dad, " I say as I plop onto the hospital bed. “I just want to leave.”
"What do I want to say, Lesle e, since you know me so well?" my D ad asks me and now I officially feel like I'm twelve. "You smell like a goddamn Cheech and Chong movie!"
"Dad, you really don't have to embarrass me," I say as the doctor walks into the room. He's an average height, thirty something Indian male with perfect hair and a perfect complexion. This is the only time in my life that I've ever had an attractive doctor who wasn’t elderly and
"I was afraid that something horrible had happened to you with that oddly shaped tumor on your head ," Karen says and I turn away from her. "Anyway, they're on their way up here. I didn't know this would make you so upset. I'm sorry."
I sigh in frustration. "Give me my clothes. I' m getting out of this hospital H ell." I begin to sit up and attempt to get out of the bed. Thank the Lord they left my underwear on or it'd be a full moon.
"You can't go, Les," Mike says. "Not until they release you. You have a head injury."
I look Mike up and down then look directly into his eyes, fuming. "If you don't let me go, I will shove those hospital latex gloves up your ass , now move ." Mike moves to the side and I push myself onto the floor. "I have to go," I keep saying as I look for my clothes. "I have to get out of here before—"
"LESLEE!" Fuck! I think to myself. It's the little Korean woman ready to ruin my life. I try to hide behind Karen and it doesn't work. My M om walks into the room and spots me right away. Maybe if I jump out the window ... "Leslee, what did you do to yourself?” she asks. “What is this bump on your head?" I surrender. I move from behind Karen and let my mother see all my glory and embarrassment.
"I just had a little accident, that's all," I respond leaving out as many details as possible. I don't even know how much Karen told her. Hopefully not too much.
"Honey, if you want to dance on table s , that ’s fine if you ’re getting paid," m y mother says and Mike begins to laugh.
I groan in frustration. “Mom,” I start, “I was not dancing on any tables. And can you please not say those type of things here? This is a hospital, not a strip club. Where are my clothes?!" I yell in frustration. Get me out of here!
"You cannot leave, Leslee!" Mom says and I igno re her. "The d octor says no, not yet."
I pick up my clothes from the chair and get a large whiff of marijuana. Ugh! I begin to cough as I make my way into the bathroom and close the door. I instantly look in the mirror and my eyes widen. I can not believe how horrible this thing looks on my head! It looks worse than a mini disco ball. It looks like if I put a sharp pin to it, it would completely explode. Double ugh!
I hear a knock at the door. "Leslee?" I hear a stern and manly voice say. It’s my Dad. This situation cannot get any worse. I continue to get dressed and he continues to knock. "Leslee, it's your father. Open the door!" What am I, 12 years old? Who does he think he is? I'm a grown woman trying to get dressed here! I swing open the bathroom door with my hand on my hip.
"Dad, a little privacy maybe?" I snidely say as I push past him and sit on the hospital bed. I look around t he room for my shoes. “My shoes, ” I say. “Where the hell are my shoes?” I think for a second and my memory floods back into my brain. “Oh,” I say. Now I remember. I threw my shoes at the disco ball at XO Lounge therefore my shoes are probably still there. Shit.
"Nice to see you, too, Leslee, " Dad replies and I just roll my eyes.
"I really do n't want to hear a lecture, Dad, " I say as I plop onto the hospital bed. “I just want to leave.”
"What do I want to say, Lesle e, since you know me so well?" my D ad asks me and now I officially feel like I'm twelve. "You smell like a goddamn Cheech and Chong movie!"
"Dad, you really don't have to embarrass me," I say as the doctor walks into the room. He's an average height, thirty something Indian male with perfect hair and a perfect complexion. This is the only time in my life that I've ever had an attractive doctor who wasn’t elderly and
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