“Well, technically, you asked for it, and I gave it to you… you had no complaints about it last night, so don’t even start with me, Evi. I’m not in the mood.”
And now I’m certainly not in the mood either.
“Rhett, I don’t remember anything from last night.” I hiss quietly. “I don’t remember meeting your friends, I don’t remember getting home either. I woke up naked, in my bed, alone—thank fuck—and I’ve got bruises everywhere. Help me fill in the blanks… please.”
“You worry too much, you know that right?” he says, leaning away from me. “You need to relax a bit, but don’t worry, you were fun to be around, and we all enjoyed the night. And as to why you woke up naked… How am I supposed to know what you do in your own house?” He pauses, looking at me intently. “Maybe you need to stop worrying about what happened last night and start worrying about taking care of yourself. It’s not healthy to party so hard. I’m worried about you.”
I look at him, deciphering everything he just said. For some reason his words are anything but reassuring, and the look on his face doesn’t come close to making me think he cares about me.
“While we’re on the topic about discussing you,” he adds, “let’s discuss us.”
Shit.
“You haven’t made any payments, Evi… I haven’t seen a single dollar of what you owe me.”
“I don’t really know what to tell you. I’ll get it to you as soon as I can. You know how much I’ve been working, but even with tips, I still have to afford my current bills and rent, and by the time I pay for that there’s not much left to pay you back.” I fluster, trying desperately to explain myself, not wanting this conversation to blow up here.
“That sounds like an excuse, Evi. Just get me my money back and we won’t have any problems.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
I reassure him that I’m on top of it, wishing this conversation was happening anywhere except here, praying that none of the dancers milling around overhear us.
He pushes back from the bar, the space between us growing, before pausing for a second. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a baggie filled with little pills, handing them to me.
“I almost forgot. Since you were so much fun last night, I brought you a gift. You deserve it… But maybe only stick with one at a time, they’re a little strong.” He chuckles.
Panic floods through me as I snatch the baggie from his hands, if only to get it out of sight.
“Jesus Christ, Rhett, are you trying to get me fired?” I hiss, as I hide the baggie in my pocket.
He laughs, not dignifying my question with a response, before turning around and walking back to his friends.
The pills feel as if they are a hundred pounds, weighing me down for the remainder of my shift, leaving me unable to ignore their presence. I’m torn between never wanting to do drugs again, not wanting to risk experiencing what I’ve been feeling, and wanting to take them all if it means having a moment of silence in my head, finding an escape from the emotions that are causing so much turmoil within me.
As my shift ends, I trade my heels for my running shoes, and my corset for my T-shirt, leaving everything except my purse in my locker.
To Toni’s dismay, I decline his offer to call me a cab, and I start walking across the parking lot until I reach the road, needing a long walk home to clear my head.
The night air is cool, but I feel warm, my heart racing as I try once again to make sense of everything that has happened in the past twenty-four hours. I am so overwhelmed that I don’t even care where I’m headed, I just want to walk until I’m too tired to move anymore, and too tired to feel anything.
CHAPTER 14
‡
I walk slowly, my thoughts distracting me as I follow the road into the heart of the city. I pause at an unfamiliar intersection, not sure of exactly where I am, but I notice a bar across the street, its open sign flashing brightly in the dark of the night. I walk towards it, opening the door and letting myself inside; the smell of alcohol hits me immediately. I order a drink at the bar, fishing out some of my tips from my purse to pay for it. The bartender sets my drink down with a loud clunk, and I grab it before finding a seat at a low table, tucked away from the two people sitting at the bar. The bar is old, the lighting only serving to draw attention to the peeling wallpaper and stained floors, the place clearly in need of some repairs.
I don’t care about any of that, though, savoring the silence around me as I fish some ice cubes out of my drink.
I can’t help but chuckle quietly to myself; I have to admit that this is morose even for me, sitting in a dilapidated bar by myself, nursing a drink and trying to figure out how to get out of this mess I got myself into.
The baggie still feels heavy in my pocket, the weight of its control over me tangible, and it feels like I’m sitting here with a loaded gun, debating whether or not to pull the trigger. I know doing drugs isn’t right, and like everyone else my age I grew up in a time where anti-drug programming was all over TV and taught in school. But even knowing all of this, knowing that these pills could be my downfall, I can’t deny that I love the high, even if I hate myself and my actions afterwards.
The drugs remind me of Rhett, not because he’s the one who gave them to me, but because they are both so similar, filling a void that I want to desperately ignore exists within me.
Footsteps approach me, and I look up as Jax walks purposefully towards me. My breath catches and I fail to hide my shock as he pulls out a chair across from me, sitting down and leaning back in his seat.
Our eyes meet, and I’m instantly lost in a sea of emerald green, so captivated by him that for a moment I forget anything else exists. I curse silently at the dim lighting at work, not noticing this part of him until now.
“Drowning our sorrows tonight are we, love?” he asks, with no hint of teasing in his voice.