The Man Who Can't Be Moved Chapter 39 Teaser(s)

Yeah, there's two ;)

Here's the link to the pic tease, which is the first one I've ever done (and I loved it, hehe):

http://www.pictease.blogspot.com/

I'm near the bottom... you know, alphabetical order and all *sigh*

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“I don’t want to go,” I slurred, throwing myself back up to an upright position. It was kind of a Tawny Kitaen move, and yes, thanks to one of many of Renée’s phases, I was well aware of that awful eighty’s reference. Just give me an old, white Trans Am and a dude with way too much hair, and I was golden. “Oh, that was a mistake,” I said as my stomach rolled.

He threw a trashcan at me. “Puke in that.”

I threw it back at him; my aim was horrific, and it ended up knocking the lamp that sat on the end table over.

“Oops,” I said, blushing. Or, at least, I think I was blushing. I couldn’t really feel my face.

“Jesus, Bella. Get the fuck up before you make an ass out of yourself and have it make front page news.”

I wished I could say that statement sobered me up, but it didn’t. “Let ‘em,” I said with an awkward wave of dismissal. “I’m so tired of pretending to be perfect.”

Emmett’s face softened as he stood me up. “I know. Where’d you leave the other two drunkards at?”

“At the karaoke machine,” I giggled.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned.

I giggled harder. “Rosalie can’t sing,” I said in what was supposed to have been a whisper. It just wound up sounding like a deranged hiss.

“Dear God, BDB. Get some fucking gum. Your breath is rank.”

I ignored him, focusing on more important things that I’d just now noticed—my cell phone was no longer in his hand. “Hey!” I cried indignantly. “You hung up with Edward!”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, staring at me like I’d grown a second head. “A while ago.”

A sob burst free from my chest. “Why? I could have talked to him some more!”

“Yeah, that’s not happening. You’re barely lucid.”

“Bull-fucking-shit,” I snapped, and then proceeded to try to give myself a sobriety test, missing the tip of my nose with my index fingers by a long shot. “Damn it.”

He chuckled. “I’ll record you talking. Let you listen to it tomorrow. Maybe I’ll leak it to the press.”