Page 79 of The Runaway and the Rugged
Garth: Outlaw, are you drunk?
Kicking my feet, a small hiccup slipped past my tongue.
Me: What do you consider drunk?
Garth: Using Greta’s phone to tell me that you wished I was there.
Me: I would say I’m tipsy. A good buzz, but not drunk.
I lied, knowing that would only fuel his worry.
Garth: Prove it.
Prove it? Prove it, how? A video? Is that what he wanted?
Hopping off the chair, I walked up to the first person I saw, a tall, handsome blond who watched me with warm curiosity.
“’Scuse me, mister, are you busy by any chance?” I asked, a slight fuzziness blurring my vision.
“Not at all, what can I do for you, sweetheart?”
Perfect.
“Would you mind recording me from this phone? I need to send a video proving that I’m not drunk.”
He chuckled, but nodded.
“I can do that.”
I handed him Greta’s phone.
“Thank you so much.”
I walked out in front of him, and when he signaled to me that he was recording, I began my attempt at convincing Garth I wasn’t drunk.
24
GARTH
Iwas in bed, comfortable, watchin’ the news when an incoming message popped up on my phone.
New video message from Greta.
Already on edge from the previous messages Emelia had sent, I sat up taller, swallowed the large lump in my throat, and pressed play.
“Garth? It’s me, Emelia,”She beamed into the camera, nearly stealin’ the breath right from my lungs as I peered at her pixelated form.
“You told me to prove that I’m not drunk and I’m not.”Her slurred words spurred my heart into a full-on sprint, pounding with immense worry that was deemed impossible to ignore. And just when I thought things couldn’t get any fuckin’ worse, there was a low, husky laugh that erupted behind the camera that certainly didn’t belong to Greta.
“Fuck…” I grumbled, yanking the covers off my lower half and jumping out of bed.
“Get up on the table, sweetheart, that’ll be sure to prove you ain’t drunk,”the dead man shouted playfully, hopin’ that Emelia would fall for it.
Don’t fuckin’ do it, Outlaw.
I was already stepping into my jeans, bracin’ for the shitstorm, when suddenly, her drunken, wobbly giggle filled the video. Next thing I knew, Emelia was being lifted high onto the table by a pair of grabby hands and chaos erupted.
Specifically catcallin’ and whistling, but in a matter of seconds, the video abruptly ended. Without another thought, I threw on a clean shirt and flew down the stairs with determination. I should have known somethin’ like this would happen. Trouble seemed to follow my sister around everywhere she went these days. It didn't matter what she was doin’ or where she was, it always managed to find her.
