Page 69 of Secondhand Smoke
She was glad she had forgotten to eat any meals. It made her get a buzz quicker.
By the time the band exited through the stage door and took the stage, Nell was walking back to her table with her second bottle.
They had a new set of songs that night—songs that they hadn’t performed before—which made the girls scream in delight as they started the chords of what Barrett had told her at their practice wasThe Trooperby Iron Maiden.
She’d enjoyed it in practice, but now it was hard to enjoy much other than the bottom of her bottle and the moment Barrett easily found her, catching her eye over the heads of thegirls who swung their hair to the beat. He winked, and Nell wished she could feel the heat rush to her cheeks, her heart stutter, and her breath steal from her throat like it usually did, but all she got was a dull thud that echoed through her head as her bottle set down on the table.
And so it went.
She got up two more times for two more drinks, each one stronger than the last.
Every time she met Barrett’s eye, he raised his brow just enough for her to notice—because she was looking for it—but he had a show to carry on. She did manage a few, painfully stiff smiles to appease him, and it must have worked because he was back at the mic, closing his eyes and riffing away and doing that thing that made him magnetic.
That magnetism grew stronger in her chest the louder the buzz became. Soon, her smiles weren’t forced, the drunken blushes were back, and Barrett lost himself as she lost herself on another trip to Erik at the bar.
She leaned across and yelled her order into his ear, her foot tapping along to the beat.
She was back to normal again.
She swayed—a mix of rhythm and tipsiness—but it was better than the weight that threatened to drag her down, and she lived for it.
Erik set down an amber liquid with a lemon wedge on the side, and she almost got it to her lips before someone else got to her.
“You look happy.”
Nell’s fingers went limp before her mind even registered the voice.
The glass fell from her grip and landed with a loud clink on the bar top, luckily not shattering. But her top was now covered in whiskey, and her stomach spun into nausea.
She didn’t want to look. She wouldn’t look.
She didn’t have a choice because he was in front of her.
Jake made sure she could see him by stepping in and blocking her view of the stage.
His thin irises, as crystal blue as Sam’s, were blown out, dilated into nearly black behind alcohol and rage.
She had no idea how long he’d been there or how long he’d been watching her, but whatever he saw made him sneer at her like she was a disgusting, aggressive disease.
People used to tell the three of them that they could be triplets: the same light hair, eyes close enough to be mistaken for the other. She’d loved the idea of not one but two siblings just like her.
She’d lost both.
One six feet under, the other three inches away with his hand grabbing the top of her arm into his tight fist as he breathed hot, putrid air into her face.
“Do you think you deserve to be smiling right now?”
She wished she could sober up. Instead, she stumbled as she tried to back up, giving him the advantage to grip her harder until the pinched skin on her arm stung.
She didn’t try to talk, because what was the point?
“You make me sick,” he hissed.
A shrill squeal of microphone feedback rang through the bar, and people hissed in annoyance. Nell winced. Only then did she realize the music had stopped.
“Get your fucking hand off her.”
The words echoed through the area. With the abrupt cut-off of music, the sudden silence rang through her as much as the words did.
