Chapter 193


    “Oh, my God! Le get down!” I’mughing so hard my sides hurt as Le dances along the bar top


    shimmying and singing full pelt into the wireless mic of the karaoke machine. She’s in full rock star


    mode, strutting her stuff like a coyote ugly wannabe. Sarah is so drunk she’s sprawled over the bar;


    laughing at my poor attempts to control the wild petite blonde.


    “Leave her alone honey, she looks mighty fine up there.” Some sleazy fat man grabs my wrist tugging


    my arm from Le’s leg and I recoil in disgust at his touch. His eyes travel up under the dress she


    borrowed from me to wear and my repulsion grows into something more empowering; seething anger. I


    elbow him hard in the ribs and stand back with a feisty re when hees around at me. “What the


    hell is wrong with you? Crazy bitch!” He moves in angrily, but my inner anger and psycho switch clicks


    on, pulling my height up to its full length in readiness, too drunk to care about what I’m doing or any


    subsequent consequences.


    Bring it on asshole!


    “That’s enough. Do you need me to escort you out, Tom?” The bartender cuts in, sliding the empty


    ss away from the man, with a warning re. The man snaps his attention to the burly tender, with


    his bulging muscles and no-nonsense expression, and sneers my way.


    “Fucking bitch … No. I’m going anyway.” The chubby older man turns on his heel and stalks off, leaving


    me feeling a little smug. I’m trying to ignore the deep welt of pain growing inside of me, managing to


    convince myself that it has nothing to do with the anger inside of my broken heart. Anger is a good


    emotion for me right now. It’s pushing away the mncholy from thest few hours. I’ve been thinking


    about Jake almost every second, despite the alcohol fueled party mood that Le has inflicted on me,


    and I’m trying my hardest not to let it show for fear of Le’s wrath.


    “Try not to get yourself into a fight honey. Some of the regrs can be prissy as shit.” The tender winks


    at me and moves off to tend to the crowded bar. I re after him, drink bringing out this rming inner


    rage from inside of me, rather than my merry carefree drunken Emma.


    What would Jake think of drunk Emma like this? Wouldn’t like her very much, would he? This is more


    like Drunk Teen Emma.


    Le is still singing her heart out but the song switches to something slower and now she’s swaying


    around up there. I’ve given up trying to reach her now she’s moved further along the bar, which spans


    the whole room and turns in a U shape along the other side. I have no idea how she’s still upright


    considering we’ve been here for hours and drunk enough alcohol to render the three of us


    unconscious.


    My legs ache from our dancing attempts and I have the head of a drunk girl, wandering around the


    crowded room aimlessly. I have a fuzzy almost dream-like haze going on with my consciousness and I


    just want to lie down. I am suffering the effects of my drink and the room is spinning and swaying


    around me. I hold onto the bar for support, and stand slumped, watching the room, a little detached


    from reality.


    She starts belting out a love song rather tunefully, a little t in ces, but she’s giving it her all and


    enjoying herself, so I sit down to listen. It takes only a moment to realize it’s a song Jake has sent me


    in the past.


    Pink, ‘Give me a Reason’


    It hits me like a punch in the stomach, winding me, bringing the huge weight of agony back to the


    forefront of my mind. Emotion heavy in my chest, I let out a long heavy breath to hold back the new


    onught of tears prickling behind my eyes.


    I miss him so damned much. I wish he was here right now. Why did he have to infect every part of me


    with his presence?


    I realize, suddenly, I don’t like being drunk anymore. I only ever drank with Jake because I knew he


    would take care of me, and my little bubble of bravado well and truly pops. I hate being in a bar, without


    my protector, surrounded by strange men, who stare and sleaze over the women around them. I’m


    vulnerable and emotional. Thest thing I should’ve done wase here and get so drunk. I feel so


    powerless and small.


    Now I’ve started this monsoon of depressed feelings I can’t seem to switch it off. I watch Le for a


    moment and see, almost with new eyes, the way the men around the bar are looking up her dress,


    checking out her ass, almost drooling with every little movement she makes. Male eyes check out


    every girl that walks by, all with the same leering stare and licking of lips. Like animals searching our


    prey and it sickens me.


    I feel nauseous, so aware now of how awful this is. We’ve left ourselves vulnerable in a lions’ pit, too


    drunk to function and take care of ourselves and in this moment, I’ve never wanted Jake beside me


    more than right now, to take care of me. Sarah’s passed out, Le is surrounded by hordes of drunk


    men, and I’m so out of my depth an edge of panic startsing on, the old Teen Emma freaking in my


    mind.


    I haul out my cell in my drunken haze, noticing the wetness on my chin and wiping it with surprise,


    unaware tears had even been falling. The phone sways in my vision, my focus shot, and I try to make


    the screen less blurry by holding it at various distances.


    “You all right beautiful?” A male voicees considerably close to my ear, I recoil as his warm breath


    hits my neck, revulsion creeping over my skin like a moving tide of cringe.


    “Piss off and get away,” I snarl, all ws, hissing and recoiling against the bar. I’m in full defensive


    Emma mode and feel like I’m hemmed in by over-sexed sleaze bags who wish to touch me. I’m


    prickling with angry energy.


    “Fuck you, lesbo!” he snaps and moves along to try his luck with the next one. That knot of anxiety


    stays well and truly tightened within me, my body tense.


    Charming. Dickhead.


    I stab at the phone manically, unsure if I’m managing to call anyone at all, suddenly desperate for him


    to be here. I can hear ringing, so I put it to my ear and hold my breath.


    “Emma?” Jake’s voice is like aplete st of light beaming heaven running through me, hitting me


    right in my center. Trembling rivulets of warmth run through my body at just hearing his voice. His low


    sexy, soothing tone, and the way he says my name, yet with a hint of worry.


    Oh God, I miss you.


    I managed to get Jake on the first try. I’ve never felt such relief at hearing his voice, my heart


    constricting in pain and longing, now I’ve finally broken the silence. It feels like it’s been months since


    that gentle tone was inside my head.


    “Who else would it be…” I slur crazily. I try for light and humorous then get angry at myself for being


    this weak and calling him at all. Even now I’m unable to stop the stupid onught of tears pouring


    down my face. I’m aware that my mind is still in a deep pit of confusion, but my itchy hands and aching


    heart must’ve overridden my brain with the need to see him.


    I hate you. I love you. God, I miss you.


    “Baby are you drunk?” I can decipher the concern in his beautiful voice and it only makes me want to


    cry even more.


    He’s still calling me baby, his baby. I want my Jake.


    “I’m too drunk … I don’t like it much. You’re not here to take care of me.” I burst into half gasp half sobs


    trying desperately to right myself on my own shoes, stumbling and recoiling rapidly when my arm scuffs


    a warm arm. “Don’t touch me,” I snap, in anger, at the blurry mess of a figure to my right. Recoiling at


    the male touch, wishing that Jake was here beside me.


    “Calm yourself, sweetheart. You fell into me, watch where you’re fucking going.” The male voice snaps


    back angrily as they turn away from me.


    Screw you, asshole.


    “Who the fuck was that asshole, baby? Where are you? I’ming to get you.” Jake isn’t so gentle


    anymore; he sounds like bossy Carrero with a serious touch of aggression. Internal me picks up with a


    satisfied warmth, the same me who wants the Jake I know and love to raise his head. He must’ve


    heard the asshole, down the cell, who is now snarling at me with evil gleaming eyes and a twisted


    mouth, over his shoulder. I turn my back to him and stumble against a bar stool.


    “I don’t know.” I sigh heavily, tears reced with exhaustion. The desire to listen to his voice and hear


    him talk. I sigh, the drunken wave of daydream tugs at me for a moment. My drunken mind instantly


    distracted with Le hitting an impressive high note.


    “Le is singing, can you hear her?” I lift the phone above my head and hold it at an odd angle, so he


    can get full rity of that wonderful sexy soul-stress. She’s in the full throws of Christina Aguilera’s


    ‘Voice Within’. Right now, it’s all I can think about to distract me from his voice being so painfully close,


    too alluring, even though I wanted to drown in in a second ago, causing me pain and joy and then more


    pain.


    Damn you, Carrero.


    I sway in time to her singing a few lines then bring the phone back down when I’m able to stand the


    sound of him again.


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    “Emma? … Emma?! … Fuck’s sake! Emma?!” Jake’s mid-ranting and sounds overly worked up into


    aggressive mode.


    Oops. He obviously didn’t like Le’s singing.


    “Don’t swear at me! You of all people should not be swearing at me right now,” I snap and immediately


    burst into tears, drunk and emotional are not a goodbo, having him verbally close is just making


    me worse.


    Does he have no clue of how much he’s hurt me or messed my head up?


    He inhales slowly, steadily, to calm his temper, his tone lowers but there’s that sound he makes when


    he’s talking through gritted teeth; his angry yet trying to control myself tone. I get a little ripple of longing


    again.


    “Baby listen to me don’t cry. I’m sorry, okay. I’m really worried about you right now and losing my mind


    a little, tell me where you are, and I’ll be right there. I’lle take you home. I’ll take care of you.”


    Home? Home sounds good, the apartment in Manhattan overlooking the sea of lights and tall buildings,


    wrapped in bed with Jake, wrapped up in Jake; that’s home for me.