Though I had gone over the plan in my head several times before I had arrived, I was still nervous. I had everything riding on seeing Gabriel, but there were so many things that could go wrong since I had no right to be there and most definitely no business seeing him. Guilt niggled at the back of my mind, I rapidly shoved it away.
There were several women of varying ages, sitting at the information desk. Knowing that I needed as much cooperation as possible, I quickly targeted an elderly woman who looked like everyone’s favorite grandmother. Her sharp green eyes studied the computer screen in front of her through gold-framed half moon spectacles, perched on her thin nose. I was just about to open my mouth to ask her what room Gabriel was in, when I heard a ruckus behind me. I spun around to see half a dozen people, with camera’s and microphones, pour into the foyer. As soon as I recognized who they were, my heart sunk.
“Shit,” I breathed.
I turned back to the information desk, determined to get the details I needed, despite the fact that a whole posse of news reporters had just cluttered the space. There was no doubt in my mind that they were there to see Gabriel, just like I was. The elderly lady dragged her gaze from the jostling group behind me. Even before I opened my mouth to ask, I knew I was too late. The gaggle at the entrance had spoiled every chance I had of finding out where Gabriel was. I felt tears gather at the back of my eyes. Crying was the very last thing I wanted to do, but I didn’t have the strength to stop.
“I…” I said, opening and closing my mouth a few times.
I struggled to hold it together long enough to ask her the one pertinent question I needed answered. But it seemed that whatever control I’d had slipped away from me. The solitary belief that had buoyed my hope that I could change the past, was rapidly slipping down a rushing river and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.
“I wonder if you could tell me what room Gabriel Sanders is in?” I said, my voice faltering. Whatever sliver of hope I’d had was immediately squashed by her cold glower. I didn’t need words to know that there was no way in hell that I was going to see him today, or any other day for that matter.
“Are you family?” she said curtly.
I nodded my head with mock conviction. I knew she saw right through it.
“I’m here for a statement about Gabriel Sander’s condition.”
The woman who had spoken was tall and slender, dressed in a black power suit. She had so much hairspray coating her shoulder-length auburn hair that it probably wouldn’t have moved if she had been standing in a hurricane. I glared over at her, furious at her complete lack of manners. My irritation went unnoticed, as she focused on the lady I had just spoken to. I wasn’t normally a violent person, but it took all of my will not to shove her aside. Seconds later, as if in response to my silent threat, I was jostled by two more reporters competing for the elderly clerk’s attention. When a spate of questions rained down on her, all she could do was sit there with a dazed expression on her face. I almost felt sorry for her despite her less than helpful reception.
With nothing else to do but retreat, I backed away from the now crowded desk. As I did, I managed to almost knock over two cameras that had been positioned on tripods in the short time since the press had arrived.
“Hey, watch out,” a man hollered at me.
It was enough to break whatever composure I’d had left. I felt hot tears stream down my cheeks then I was shoving through the bodies that blocked my path. I didn’t know where I was going, only that I needed to be somewhere else. Being in the hospital just reminded me that I had nothing left. And just like that everything that I had fought to ignore, Mom’s death, my last words to her, the lies, and all the guilt that said that I was responsible for her death, converged on me. It took every bit of my will just to keep moving.
The outside air felt stagnant and polluted. I worked hard just to continue to breathe. I swallowed repeatedly against the lump in my throat. Even as I hurried down the street with no destination in mind, I tried to come up with some sort of alternate plan.
I literally had nothing at all. There were no more psychics, no more leads, even Trinity had had enough of my obsession.
I continued charging down the sidewalk, banging into several people as I did. I actually knocked a middle-aged man on his butt in my haste, yet I couldn’t bring myself to slow down. The neon sign that suddenly came into view seemed to call to me. I wasn’t a drinker. In fact I had steered clear of alcohol all together since Dallas’s party, but right then I needed to do something to shut it all down. I knew if I allowed the monster to come out of the box, and with it all the pain and regret, I was going to fall apart.
I pushed through the door, launching myself into Clancy’s Bar and Grill. For no reason other than I needed a diversion, I was determined that I was going to get a drink no matter what it took. I prayed that no one carded me since I was more than a few months shy of twenty-one.
As I moved further into the bar, I noticed that it was quite crowded given it was a weekday night. The place was much larger than I had expected, probably capable of seating at least one hundred people. Much like the name suggested, the bar had a distinctly Irish feel about it. There were signs indicating that they served Harp Irish lager and of course Guinness. The chalkboard hanging on the far wall, stated that the daily special was corned beef and cabbage. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I strode purposefully to a free table-for-two, in a secluded corner. I hoped the lighting would be enough to hide any signs that I wasn’t quite of age.
I slipped into one of the smooth dark wood chairs at the table, picking up a menu almost as soon as I did. Eating was the last thing I felt like doing, but I was certain that ordering food would be a great way to take the emphasis off my age and put it on the food. It was odd that as soon as I was focused on something like getting served in a bar, all my other troubles slid out of sight. The tears that had so readily given away my feelings, dried up. I scanned the menu for a few minutes and decided on the traditional Irish beef stew special, that just happened to be served with a Guinness. I figured after I’d had one beer at my table the rest would come without issue. Just as I was folding the menu, a petite waitress dressed in tight-fitting jeans and a lime green tee that said Clancy’s bar, made her way to my table. I watched her money belt bounce around her waist as she walked.
“What can I get you?” she said, not really bothering to study me. I released a quiet sigh of relief.
“I’ll have the Irish stew and Guinness,” I said, hoping the nervousness threading through me wasn’t audible in my voice. She scribbled my order on a white pad then brought her gaze to my face. Up close she looked a lot younger than I had originally thought. She was probably closer to her early twenties than the thirties I had pegged her at. Her eyes were artificially blue from the colored contacts she wore, and were lined in black, giving her a sultry appearance. She oozed sex appeal and confidence. I silently wished that I had even a tenth of what she had. Though our ages were pretty close, I didn’t feel like a woman yet, just a teenager posing. As if the day Mom had died had frozen me, halted my maturity.
Because how many girls my age were still virgins. Besides the hand job incident, I hadn’t really had a robust dating life. In fact if I didn’t count the time that Guy Smith, a total nerd, had offered to pay for my pizza when about fifteen of us were out at Gia’s Pizza Palace, I could have counted the number of my dates on one hand. I snapped out of my thoughts to find that the waitress had already gone. It was a blatant testament to how totally messed up I was.
I startled when she clunked a beer down in front of me a few minutes later.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said with a smile. Her lips were full and thick with red shiny lipstick. Her two front teeth had a wide gap that gave her smile more character.
“Are you okay?” she asked before I had a chance to respond. I shook my head, ticked off that I had managed to do the exact thing I hadn’t wanted to, make her notice me.
&nb
sp; “I’m fine, I just really need a beer, you know, that kind of a day,” I said as if I was in the pub every other day of the week. She nodded ascent, tapping a pencil on her jeans.
“Oh yeah I get it,” she said. “I’ll keep the cold ones coming your way.”
She shot me another grin and was gone. I was more than a little embarrassed that I wanted her to stay and talk to me. How much of a loser was I, that I needed to make small talk to random strangers.
I took a big gulp of my Guinness, swallowing around the flavor, that was yeasty with a bitter aftertaste. I wasn’t a fan of beer, but right then anything that would numb me a little was welcome. By the time my food came, I had almost pushed through my first beer. My head was spinning and even though I hadn’t intended on eating much, beer on an empty stomach was a bad idea.
“Enjoy,” the waitress said hurriedly, as she placed a steaming bowl of stew in front of me. In the time that it had taken to get my food the bar had picked up considerably. More people crowded along the polished wood counter, that ran the length of the place.
The waitress was gone before I had a chance to thank her. I stared down at my food and had to concede that it smelled divine. The bowl was mounded with new baby potatoes still in their jackets, carrot coins and bright green peas. The succulent beef was lean and tender and drenched in the tastiest gravy that I had ever had. I couldn’t help but be amazed at how such simple ingredients could be so delicious. I devoured the bowl of stew, even sopping up the remaining gravy with broken bits of the crusty bread that had been served on the side.
The concentration that I’d had when I had been eating had given me several minutes of mindless pleasure. Only after the last crumb was gone did all the events of the day rush back in. Unable to deal with the emotions that were threatening to crack me wide, I knew I needed to revive the buzz that had fizzled with my hearty meal.
The place was hopping with people and tucked away in the corner, it was easy for me to be ignored. An overwhelming need to escape reality had a way of making you do things that you would never have expected. Without thought I climbed up on my chair, signaling above the crowd to a waitress that was passing by. Unperturbed by my bold move, she smiled and waved, letting me know that she had gotten the message.
The next beer, this time a local brand, went down with more difficulty. This time it was less about the taste than it was about trying to put more in my already overstuffed stomach. I finally managed to get it down and had ensured that as soon as I was remotely ready, another beer was waiting for me. The alcohol kicked in full force after I had downed my fourth beer, a feat that I had never managed before. Suddenly and without fanfare, I was pleasantly plastered.
“Hey you wanna dance?”
I startled then turned to face the guy standing over me. He grinned warmly. I returned his smile with one of my own. He was cute enough, with bright blue eyes, full lips and a friendly boyish charm. His shoulder length blonde hair was tousled and damp around the temples, strands of it curling from the humidity on his sharp cheek bones.
“Dance?” I repeated.
I had no idea what he was talking about, since as far as I knew there wasn’t a dance floor in the bar.
He took my hand in his, as if we had known each other for a while. With a slight tug he pulled me to my feet. Now that I was standing I realized he was even taller than I had first thought. In my estimation he was at least six-foot-six, but what he had in height wasn’t matched by bulk. He was slender to the point of being scrawny, but whatever weight he did have was wiry muscle.
“It’s over there,” he said, pointing toward a crush of bodies that formed what appeared to be an impenetrable wall.
“They move the tables out of the way after they close the kitchen,” he explained. Clearly my expression must have indicated that I didn’t believe him.
I shrugged. “Yeah okay,” I said.
It felt a little odd that he was still holding my hand. I understood the reason when we tried to maneuver through the tangle of people blocking our way. There was no doubt that without him guiding me, I would have easily been swallowed by the crowd. And just when I thought that he was taking me on a wild goose chase, the throngs of people parted, and a makeshift dance floor appeared. I hadn’t noticed the retro disco ball, shooting strobing multicolored lights in every direction until we were standing beneath it.
The guy took both of my hands in his, drawing me closer until our bodies were inches apart. I was more than a touch drunk, but even I had to acknowledge that it felt weird that he was being so hands-on with me. I had no idea who he was, or even his name for that matter.
His palms found a place on my hips and he swayed to the music, it wasn’t hard to tell that he was a super dancer. I couldn’t ever seem to find the beat in a song. But the alcohol was enough that most of my usual inhibitions were buried, as I tried to match his moves.
I rotated my hips in slow circles, trying to copy some of the girls that were gyrating around us. The next thing I knew he was behind me, grinding his body against me. The sensible part of me was mortified that I was dancing so intimately with a stranger, but the drunk me, let it all go. The music poured over me in rhythmic beats and I was lost in the sensation of heat and the salacious sexual tension that cascaded from my partner. It wasn’t hard to tell that he wanted me, and I couldn’t help but like it. Nobody ever wanted me like that. I rubbed my butt against his crotch a bit harder than I had planned. He groaned into my ear.
“I like bad girls,” he said.
His voice was smooth like Baileys Irish Cream over ice. I almost laughed out loud at his comment. I was so far from being a bad girl, but for that moment I played the part, pressing a little firmer against him. His appreciation was immediate. I leaned my head back to look up at him and when I did I saw the hunger in his gaze, like he wanted to devour me. He slid his hands up the length of my torso, coming to rest on the strap of my bra.
It excited me, but also set off alarm bells, from the way he was looking at me he was planning for more than just a dance. Before I could look away he caught my mouth in his, his tongue searched my mouth greedily and his hands cupped my breasts in a move that left me flustered and feeling dirty. What had begun as apprehension rapidly shifted to trepidation. This guy wanted me in a way that I wasn’t even remotely ready to give him.
I jerked away suddenly. His expression shifted to surprise with a tinge of irritation. The surrealness of the situation hit me hard. I needed to escape. Without a word, I pushed through people, desperate to get away from the situation, away from him. I wasn’t the person he thought I was.
Relief washed over me when I spotted my table. I just managed to collapse onto the chair when absolute dizziness crested over me. My churning stomach made me regret the beer I had drank and the food that I had eaten. Even as I tried to ignore how squeamish I felt, I knew that I was going to be sick. This time when I got to my feet the full force of the alcohol had its way. I staggered. The only thing that saved me from falling flat on my ass were the people that were pressed up against me.
What had been fun before was all wrong now. Even to my dulled senses, the music was too loud, the space scorching hot. Cold sweat, the kind that precedes vomiting, coated me. I swallowed repeatedly, praying that I would make it to the restroom before I barfed all over the floor.
There was a lineup outside the door to the restroom, but I didn’t care. I shoved my way through and inside. As expected all the stalls were taken. I had planned to cut ahead as soon as someone exited, but my stomach didn’t agree to waiting. I spun to face the sinks, and with no other choice, evacuated my Irish stew without ceremony.
“That’s just nasty,” someone said from behind me. I was too sick to feel ashamed, but there was always later to regret my actions.
Even after I had finished throwing up my recent meal, and what seemed like everything I had eaten all day, my stomach didn’t relent. Dry heaves had me retching and coughing. When it finally stopped, I shifted to the adjacen
t sink, washing out my mouth and splashing water on my face. After I had dried my face with a paper towel, I chanced a look at my reflection.
My ponytail was half falling out, my eyes were puffy and rimmed in red, my nose matched my eyes. Whatever makeup I’d had on was gone, leaving black circles of mascara and eyeliner ringing my eyes.
Quite simply I looked like shit.
Tears dripped down my cheeks without my volition, then I was suddenly sobbing. It seemed impossible to get hold of myself.
I felt so alone.
“Are you all right?” someone said.
I heard compassion in the voice and detested that it had been directed at me. I didn’t deserve sympathy. I didn’t deserve anything. Frantic to get out of there, I pushed through the bodies that obstructed my path. People protested my rough manhandling, but it wasn’t enough to make me stop. I needed to be outside, I needed to talk to Trinity I needed…my mom. I struggled to catch my breath as I fought to block out the image of my mother the last time I had seen her, when I had been so hateful to her. Then the words pushed into my mind, unbidden and paralyzing.
I’ll send you an angel to let you know I’ve made it to heaven…I’ll send you an angel…
Everything became a blur as I shoved my way through the crowd outside the bathroom. Only after I had spotted the exit did I slow a little. I made one final sprint to the door, as if I was running for my life. Then I was outside. As soon as the door closed behind me, there was quiet. A slight breeze made my disheveled hair flutter around my head.
The street was empty and it didn’t take long for me to see that there were no taxis available. Still fuzzy from drinking, I thought about going back inside the bar to call a cab, but even as I tossed a glance over my shoulder, I knew I couldn’t do it. I was moments away from another meltdown, going inside would only hasten the inevitable, not to mention that I didn’t want to face the guy I had cut out on again. I dug in my pocket for my cell but it was dead since I had forgotten to charge it the night before.
Ransom (Holding Ransom # 1) Page 15