Page 62 of Troublemaker
So instead of ripping their hands off me, I sat and laughed at their dumb jokes while the room spun and I tried not to vomit all over the peanut-shell-covered bar floor.
“You okay, honey?” the bartender asked me for probably the fourth time that night, eyeing my empty shot glasses and my unwelcome companions.
Oh god, no.
Iwasgoing to puke.
“Nope,” I announced, practically falling off the barstool and not saying a word to either man as I passed them and headed down the hallway.
I barely made it to the bathroom before I was retching in the toilet, everything—all the alcohol, all my helpless anger, my loneliness and yearning—going straight into the toilet. I think I puked tears, too, if that was a thing. Because the alcohol had failed to fill in the hole in my chest where my heart had been, the heart that Coach had ripped out and stepped all over when he told Alison they were going to be late for their reservation.
When I was done vomiting—and believe me, it took a while before I got all of that sickness and sadness out—I felt marginally better.
Marginally.
I stood, shaky and lightheaded but at least planted on a solid ground, and made my way over to the sink. I washed my hands,rinsed out my mouth, and splashed water all over my splotchy, rose-hued face.
“What the fuck are you doing, Lucy?” I asked my reflection. “How did you sink this low?”
My reflection didn’t have an answer. She just looked confused. Disappointed.Broken. She didn’t want to have this conversation with me, she wanted to be back in Coach’s arms.
“Well tough luck, buttercup,” I told my reflection. “He doesn’t want us, and we know better than to go where we’re not wanted, don’t we?”
Time to blow this popsicle stand. I was in no shape to drive—I knew that much—so I’d have to sleep in Blake’s car for the night. I grimaced. He was going to kill me when he realized I’d committed grand theft auto and stolen his prized Lexus. But then, he was probably too busy with whatsherface to realize it was gone…
I pushed my way out of the bathroom, only to be blocked by the two men who’d been feeding me drinks all night.
Oh, fuck.
“Excuse me,” I said brightly, or as brightly as I could manage. “I appreciated the company, but I think it’s time I head out.”
“Ah, but the fun’s just getting started,” one drawled.
The other grabbed me by the wrist, gripping tight. “And you owe us for all the drinks…you aren’t going anywhere, are you, Lacy?”
Seriously? This was the last thing my drunk ass needed right now.
“I am,” I said. “Home.”
“Oh, we’ll take you home, alright” the first said as they pushed in closer to me.
I tried to shift around, to evade, but dread filled me. I opened my mouth to scream, only for one of them to cover it with his big, meaty hand.
It stunk. It was nothing like when Blake had covered my mouth with his hand to keep anyone from hearing me come.
Oh god, I wanted Blake.
I also wanted to puke again.
So I did, letting vomit soak the man’s hand.
“What the actual fuck, oh you drunk bitch,” he snapped as he wrenched his hand away. I used the distraction to get around them and run away, but the other hadn’t released my wrist, and instead I felt something twist.
I screamed in pain and anger, turning to punch one of those assholes with my other hand, somehow…
But my wrist was suddenly free, and I was free.
There was an unholy, almost animalistic roar and then the sound of fists on flesh. Yelps and screams. I cradled my wrist, trying to see in the dark. Had they been mauled by an animal? There were bears up here…but who let a bear into a bar?
