Chapter 193

“Oh, my God! Leila get down!” I’m laughing so hard my sides hurt as Leila 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 Leila’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 glare when he comes 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
glass away from the man, with a warning glare. 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 melancholy from the last few hours. I’ve been thinking
about Jake almost every second, despite the alcohol fueled party mood that Leila has inflicted on me,
and I’m trying my hardest not to let it show for fear of Leila’s wrath.

“Try not to get yourself into a fight honey. Some of the regulars can be prissy as shit.” The tender winks
at me and moves off to tend to the crowded bar. I glare after him, drink bringing out this alarming 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.

Leila 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 flat in places, 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
onslaught 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. The last thing I should’ve done was come 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 Leila 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, Leila is surrounded by hordes of drunk
men, and I’m so out of my depth an edge of panic starts coming 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 voice comes 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 claws, 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 a complete blast 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 onslaught 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’m coming 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 replaced 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 Leila hitting an impressive high note.

“Leila 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 clarity 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.

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

Oops. He obviously didn’t like Leila’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 good combo, 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’ll come 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.


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