by Ava Harrison
Her words feel like a stab in the gut.
I reach my arm out, and my hands shake as I grab the glass from the bar and lift it to my mouth.
As soon as the liquid hits my lips, I feel the burn. It goes down my throat roughly, but it does its job. When it pools in my stomach, it’s like a magic wand has been waved, and my shoulders almost instantly relax a little bit.
However, even now, once the drink settles, I can feel the pain in my heart. It feels like a hand wrapped around the organ. Each time I try to breathe, it tightens.
This is hell.
Agonizing hell.
One shot isn’t enough.
I square my shoulders and look back at Monica as I place my glass back down in front of her and then turn my head to Reese. “Another?”
“Hell, yeah,” he responds, laughing. “To old times,” he cheers.
I’m not sure what he’s talking about, but I hardly care at this moment. I’m trying too hard to get to the point of not caring.
“To old times,” I repeat for shits and giggles. I don’t need to look at Monica to know she’s beyond annoyed as she makes her way over to the bar behind me and grabs the glasses.
She’s huffing and puffing, making it clear she doesn’t want to do this, but Reese is my free pass. He’s important, and she can’t say no to him. Thus, she has no choice but to serve me too.
I hate that she is the bartender on duty, but at the same time, I need to show her that she didn’t hurt me. As much as it’s a lie, I don’t want her to see my pain, and it’s a bonus by doing that, I’m also taking the edge off.
I also need to pretend I don’t care about anything.
Turning back around, I stare at her as she moves back in front of Reese and me with two newly filled shot glasses.
My own lips spread across my face. Still fake, but I don’t care. It’s the illusion I need to portray.
I take the glass, and this time when I shoot it, it goes down smooth. The euphoric feeling hits me again.
We stand there a few minutes, taking shot after shot.
Each one makes me looser. Each one working its magic.
With the sixth drink, it finally works. My head is no longer spinning with the images of Drew and Monica. Now, it’s replaced with a feeling I haven’t felt for a long time, one only present in my once favorite vice. It feels like I’m floating. Like my head is no longer a part of my body.
I’m light, and nothing can possibly bother me right now. It’s as if I’m living in a dream world.
I welcome it.
My eyes close, and then when I open them, I throw my head back and start to laugh when I see the way Monica looks at me.
But it doesn’t matter how she stares. This laughter is not a fake one for the crowds. No, this is a real one.
It makes me laugh harder.
I must be drunker than I thought because I can’t stop. Not even when from the far corner of the room, I can see into the club’s main part, and I can see him.
He hasn’t spotted me yet, but he’s speaking adamantly to someone. My angle isn’t ideal, but then when he looks toward the VIP section where I’m currently drinking, I know he must have been speaking to Carter.
Traitor.
I need to get out of here unless I want him to see me here, which I don’t. I have no desire to ever speak to him.
Nor do I want that bastard to see the pain I’m in.
My hand reaches out, and I grab Reese. From the corner of my eye, I watch as Reese follows my gaze. He must notice what has me pissed because his face splits into a wide smile as he looks in the direction of where Drew is watching us.
“Let’s go,” I say, pulling his attention back to me.
“Where?” he asks.
“Anywhere.” I stand from the barstool and start to walk away, pulling him along with me.
It feels like I’m floating out of my body. I stumble forward, my feet having a hard time keeping me steady, but Reese grabs me tighter and does the steadying for me. He pulls me into the curtained alcove out of Drew’s sight line.
42
Drew
As my feet hit the last step, I look around frantically for Bailey. I thought maybe I could find her upstairs in one of the offices, but my search came up fruitless. She’s probably long gone, having walked in on what she did.
“Fuck!” I yell, drawing the attention of a few customers in earshot. “Sorry.” I wave it off, continuing my search, hoping like hell I’m wrong, and she’s still here. I grab my phone and try to call her, but it goes to voicemail.
Fuck.
Where is she?
The first place I head is to the door that leads to the front of the club.
I find Tony standing there. His arms are crossed at his chest, and he’s shaking his head at some dude. Obviously, he doesn’t deem him worthy of my club.
When he sees me, he turns and gives the poor fool his back. He’s been discarded.
“What’s up, boss?” he asks.
“Have you seen Bailey?”
“Not since she arrived a while back. I thought she was looking for you.”
“She didn’t leave?” I say, ignoring his comment.
Bailey did look for me, and Monica . . .
Doesn’t matter. I need to find her, and I need to explain.
If she didn’t leave out the front door, she probably went out the back. I start to stalk in that direction when I feel two hands shove me before it registers that Carter is in my face looking like he wants to pummel me.
“What the fuck did you do to her, man?” Carter screams at me.
“Whoa, you better get your hands off me if you still want a job.”
“Fuck your job. I told you not to hurt her, Drew.” His hands fly to the top of his head, worry etching lines in his forehead. “The way she looked . . . it was almost like . . . fuck, man! Tell me you didn’t. Tell me I’m wrong and you didn’t fuck that slut, Monica.”
My tongue feels heavy as I try to find the words to explain. “I’m going to excuse everything you’ve just said to me because I know you’re only looking out for Bailey. I know you care, and because of that, this is the only time I’m going to allow you to speak to me like this.” I take a deep breath, trying to calm down.
Carter means well, and he doesn’t deserve my wrath. What Bailey saw didn’t look good, and his defending her is noble.
“She ambushed me in my office. I didn’t touch her. I wouldn’t, Carter.” I run my hands down my face. “Fuck,” I yell. “I’m in love with her, Carter. I need to find her.”
There, I said it. God, I do. I’m in love with her, and this whole damn scene drives that home. I can’t lose her to a fucking misunderstanding staged by the likes of Monica.
“About damn time you admit that,” he bites. “She’s a wreck. She just walked off with Reese, man. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen to a fucking word I said. She’s going to get drunk, and then who the fuck knows what she will do. You need to find her. She’s a recovering addict. One drink is one too many . . .”
His words hang in the air, not finished and ominous. He’s right. There is no telling what she will do.
One drink will lead to two, then with her inhibitions down, it’s only a matter of time before Reese is offering her coke.
Fuck. Fuuuuck.
“Which way did they go?” I yell over my shoulder.
“They’re in the VIP room drinking.”
I turn toward the glass that separates the rooms, and I see her and Reese, shots in hand, drinking. Her gaze meets mine. Carter grabs me.
“Let go, man,” I say through gritted teeth.
“You have to calm down.” His hand drops, and I turn back to go get her, but when I do, I notice the space is empty.
“They left.”
Without another word, I run, pushing through the doors to the bar.
“Where did they go?” I bark at Monica, who is staring at me from behind the bar.
“Probably to his table to
fuck,” she answers, her hand reaching across the bar to touch me. My entire body goes rigid. “Oh, come on, Drew. She’s obviously going to get high with Reese then hook up. This is pretty cliché if you ask me. You can do so much better.”
“Shut the fuck up, Monica,” I grit through my teeth.
“Let it happen, baby. I’ll take care of you.” I jump out of her grip, baring my teeth.
“I’m only going to say this one time, Monica. Get the fuck out of my club.”
“But—”
I don’t wait for her to say anything else. Instead, I push past her.
“Get her out of my club,” I tell Carter as I storm past him. I’m so keyed up that I vaguely register his nod of acknowledgment.
Why the fuck is Reese in my club after I warned him not to be, and how in the fuck did Bailey, of all people, end up with him? My biggest nightmare come to life is happening somewhere in my fucking club.
When I reach Reese’s typical room, I throw open the curtain and freeze. Bailey is lying on the floor with Reese next to her, her pale face in his lap. I fall to my knees on the other side. She’s not moving. My hands fly to her neck, checking for a pulse. It’s barely there.
“What did you give her!” I scream.
“N-Nothing,” he stammers. “I gave her nothing.” His hands are squeezing hers, “Please, chwaer, wake up. Please don’t die.” A silent sob leaves his mouth as he tries to shake her.
“Move, Reese.”
“I can’t. She can’t leave me. Chwaer, you can’t leave me.” His eyes are crazy, Lost in a memory. Lost in a horror. One that I’m all too familiar with.
I’m having déjà vu. I feel like I’m in a nightmare reliving the night Alexa died. Except this isn’t Alexa. It’s Bailey. My Bailey. The girl I’m falling for, and it’s my fault. I let this happen.
I fumble with my phone and dial 911.
“Help. I need an ambulance.” Carter takes the phone from me, and I continue to hold her.
I vaguely recall being pushed out of the way, and Bailey being torn from my arms. The paramedics whisk her out of the room, and I just sit here. I’m paralyzed to the spot. This can’t be happening. I promised I’d take care of her.
A sob breaks from my chest. I sit on the cold floor with my head in my hands and sob. I feel someone place their hand on my shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze.
“You’ve got to go to her, Drew. She needs you at the hospital.”
I look up into Carter’s sympathetic gaze. I don’t deserve his pity. “She wouldn’t want me there. I’ve failed her.”
“You haven’t failed anyone. She made her own choices. Piss-poor choices at that. It was a misunderstanding, and instead of being an adult and talking it out, she made a terrible decision. That’s on her, Drew, not you.”
I’m looking at Carter for what feels like the first time. His stone-faced features tell me everything I need to know. He doesn’t blame me.
“Is she . . . Is she . . . ?” I can’t even bring myself to say the words.
“I honestly don’t know, man. She looked pretty bad, but from what I could gather, she was stable. Go to her.”
I don’t give myself another second to think. I run out the door to her.
43
Drew
I rush into the emergency room waiting area, and I immediately see Harper pacing. Carter must have called her. Or maybe she’s listed as the next of kin for Bailey. It feels like I am being stabbed in the chest as I move closer to her. She sees me approach, and her face goes red with anger.
“What the hell are you doing here, Drew?” Her hands start pounding into my chest. I allow her to take her fear and anger out on me. I deserve that, and so much more.
“What did you do to her?” Harper is yelling through her sobs. “Isn’t it enough you ruined some other girl’s life . . . Now you ruined my sister’s.”
“How do you know about that?” It’s not the right time to interrogate her, but I can’t help it.
“Cal told me.” Her eyes are narrowed on me. I nod.
“I’m sorry, Harper. It was a misun—”
“Stop.” She holds her hand up in front of my face. “Stop right there. I do not want to hear any of your excuses. I don’t care what happened. All I know is my baby sister is in the hospital, and I know it’s because of you. Sure, Bailey has made mistakes in the past, but this . . . she was clean. I’m betting it’s you. So, don’t fucking tell me you’re sorry. I trusted you to take care of her,” she screeches.
I wrap her in my arms and console her the only way I can. “Shh. I would never intentionally do anything to hurt her, Harper. I know you don’t want to believe me. She was gone before I could stop her. By the time I found her, it was too late.”
She stiffens.
“When she gets better, and she will get better . . . just please . . . understand, what she thinks happened isn’t true. Everything will be okay.”
She relaxes in my arms, and I let her cry.
I know she blames this on me, and she’s right, but it’s obvious she needs support and doesn’t care where she gets it from.
Her mother comes rushing into the ER and immediately starts barreling Harper with questions. I try my hardest to stay out of sight. I’ve never met Mrs. Jameson, and I certainly didn’t want the first time to be in a hospital under such shitty circumstances. I sit in my chair, furtively bouncing my knee. If the goddamn doctors don’t come out with some news soon, I’m going to tear this place down.
“How is she? Can we see her?” Her mom asks before turning to me, looking at me questioningly. “Who the hell are you?”
“Mom, this is Drew Lawson. He’s the owner of the club. He was there . . .”
I hate how that one sentence minimizes what I am to Bailey. She's everything and I'm tired of hiding it.
“I’m her boyfriend.”
Harper gasps at my declaration.
Her mom's eyes widen, but she quickly rights herself, standing taller.
“Then you better stay to hear this," she says, turning back toward Harper. “They said she was having a seizure. Do you know what happened?”
“They haven’t said much,” Harper answers, looking at me out of the corner of her eye.
I step forward, my tongue heavy, but I swallow and force myself to speak. “Bailey was upset—” I take a deep breath. “She was drinking at my bar. I don’t know much more than that.”
“Why was she upset? Why was my baby drinking?” her mother cries. Then she stops herself, narrowing her eyes and pointing a finger at me. “You did this.” Mrs. Jameson doesn’t ask, she accuses. “You and that god-awful club did this to my baby girl.” She looks ready to commit murder, which is different from what I expected after Bailey told me about her.
In truth, if Bailey wasn’t in that hospital bed, I’d tell this woman just where to go. I’d blame her for it all. If she weren’t so damn consumed with herself and money, maybe her daughter never would’ve turned to drugs to begin with.
No matter how badly she needs to hear that, I don’t say a word of it. It’s not the time or the place. Not while Bailey is possibly fighting for her life.
“Mom, stop. His club happens to be one of the cleanest clubs in the city. He doesn’t condone drug use. This has nothing to do with him.” Her lies feel like sharp daggers stabbing into my gut.
With nothing more to say, I start to pace.
My feet pound the linoleum as I walk back and forth through the small waiting room.
I’m not sure how much time has passed before the door across the room opens. All of us stop.
Hell, time might have stopped too.
I can feel how my pulse accelerates as a man, who appears in scrubs, walks toward Harper.
“Mrs. Jameson?”
“Yes. This is Bailey’s mother.”
“I’m Dr. Bell, I treated your daughter. Would you like to go to a more comfortable place to talk?”
Mrs. Jameson looks warily in my direction and then at the docto
r. “Please. Tell us she’s going to be all right.”
“She’s stable.”
“Can we see her?”
“Right now, she’s being observed. As I’m sure you know, Bailey came in under the influence.” The doctor looks toward me, and I’m sure this is when they kick me out.
“What aren’t you telling us?”
“We ran her bloodwork. Along with alcohol, there was an array of drugs found in her system.”
“Drugs . . . ?”
“We found—” The doctor talks, but it feels like I’m stuck in quicksand, or maybe like I’m drowning in an ocean. I can hear the words, but they sound muffled. I knew she went to find Reese to get drunk, but I never thought Bailey would revert to drugs. It hurts to breathe, knowing that I pushed her. That I broke her. I shake my head. It wasn’t you. She made her choice. She decided to do drugs. Maybe I was the catalyst, but this rests on her. No matter what she thought.
“She has a long road ahead of her. She’s sleeping, and we want it to stay that way, so for right now, we want her visitors limited to two at a time and family only. You won’t be permitted to stay in her room for more than ten minutes. I’ll have my nurse get you when it’s a good time.”
“Thank you, Dr. Bell.”
I head back to my seat and resume bouncing my knee. It’s the only comfort I have at this moment.
I feel sick.
I didn’t stop Alexa that night, and because of my actions, another person I care about is fighting for their lives. I’ve tried my hardest to keep my club clean, but it’s a club. Drugs and nightclubs go hand in hand, despite my best efforts, and that’s never going to change.
I hear someone sit beside me, but I don’t bother looking up.
“You can go home, you know. You won’t be able to see her anytime soon. You stink. Go take a shower.” Harper tries to lighten the mood, but I just can’t.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll sit in this damn waiting room until she’s released.” I look up to find her studying me.
“You care about her.” It’s not a question.
