Drunk Girl

by Samantha Lind

  Drunk Girl

  Samantha Lind

  Samanthalind.com

  Drunk Girl

  Lyrics & Love Series Book 2

  Copyright Samantha Lind 2019

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage or retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, story lines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales or any events or occurrences are purely coincidental.

  Trademarked names appear throughout this novel. These names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intentional infringement of the trademark owner’s trademark(s).

  The following story contains adult language and sexual situations and is intended for adult readers.

  Cover Design by Melissa Gill Designs

  Cover image by Taylor Alexander Photography

  Cover Models Tabitha and Scott Wilson

  Editing by All About The Edits

  Proofreading by Proof Before You Publish

  Created with Vellum

  Dedication

  To all those who believe in second chances. The ones who want to give up but dig deep and find themselves in the process.

  * * *

  “You can’t go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending.” C.S. Lewis

  Contents

  Playlist

  1. Nick

  2. Ashley

  3. Nick

  4. Ashley

  5. Nick

  6. Ashley

  7. Nick

  8. Ashley

  9. Nick

  10. Ashley

  11. Nick

  12. Ashley

  13. Nick

  14. Ashley

  15. Ashley

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon

  Also by Samantha Lind

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Playlist

  Drunk Girl ~ Chris Janson

  1

  Nick

  “What can I get you?” I ask the patron who just took a seat across the bar from me.

  “Blue Moon. Slice of orange, if you’ve got it.”

  I reach for an orange to slice for his beer. “Short or tall pour?”

  “Tall sounds good,” he says, looking at his watch. I grab the glass and fill it with beer, adding the slice of orange before I set it down on the coaster in front of him.

  “Did you want to open a tab?”

  “Sure, you got a menu I can take a look at?” he asks before taking a drink.

  “Absolutely.” I grab a menu from the pile behind the bar. “Just flag me down when you’re ready to order.”

  I step away, looking out over the bar I own with my brother, Kaiden. We’ve poured our blood, sweat, and tears into this place over the last five years, making it what it is today.

  It’s Thursday night, which is ladies’ night, so I anticipate the crowds will start rolling in, in about thirty minutes or so, as more and more people get off work. The bar scene in our part of Nashville is steady. The city has poured a ton of money into revitalizing this section of town, and it’s why Kaiden and I picked this location when we were ready to open. The city was subsidizing new local businesses that were willing to invest in the area and help breathe life into it. With that backing, it allowed us to purchase this building rather than pay a landlord rent. It was a moneymaker for us from the first day, since we have other units within the building who rent from us.

  I wipe down the bar, tossing the bar rag over the sink before I fling the dry one over my shoulder. I stand back, watching as people start to trickle in, filling up the tables as they meet up with friends.

  “Order up,” Katie, one of our best waitresses—who also happens to be my sister-in-law as of about six weeks ago—says as she approaches the end of the bar with her cocktail tray and starts punching in an order on the kiosk.

  “How’s it going today?” I ask her as I start filling the beers for her order.

  “Good. How’s it going for you?”

  “Can’t complain. Another day, another dollar,” I tell her, handing over the last of the four beers in her order.

  “I hear ya.” She grabs four coasters and the beers, and heads over to her customers’ table, where a group of rowdy guys cheer as she sets down their drinks.

  The night picks up from that point as the after-work crowds start to pour in. Between the food our kitchen puts out and the large assortment of beers we have on tap, we’ve become one of the more popular bars on our block. We feature live music, which on its own isn’t special—it’s Nashville, after all—but for the area of town we’re in, we’ve made a name for ourselves. We’re the neighborhood bar for the crowd looking for that laid-back atmosphere, but also the place the mid-twenty to mid-thirty crowd goes to for a good time, without having to go down to lower Broadway where all the famous bars are.

  As I wipe down the bar for the hundredth time tonight, I watch patrons finish off drinks and leave. I’m vigilant about making sure people aren’t leaving drunk then getting behind the wheel. If push comes to shove, I’ll personally pay for someone’s Uber or Lyft ride to get them home safely, if they can’t get one themselves. I turn to put away my rag when I notice a young girl at one of the tables in the corner. She looks almost lost. Not plastered drunk, but she’s definitely had a few drinks tonight. The group of girls she was with earlier has left, leaving her behind and by herself.

  I keep my eye on her as I go through my nightly checklist. She’s in no condition to be driving, so I leave the bar and head over to her table, bringing a glass of ice water with me.

  “Do you have a ride home?” I ask, setting the glass down on the table in front of her. She lifts up her head, her bloodshot eyes meeting mine. It’s then I realize she’s crying. Fuck. I don’t do well with girls who are crying, they’re kind of my kryptonite.

  “Yeah, sorry. I was going to call an Uber.” She pulls her cell from her purse. “Fuck,” she mumbles.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, taking in her appearance. She’s casually dressed, in shorts, a tank top, and cowgirl boots. A normal ladies’ night dress code for many of the women who come in here.

  “My phone is dead. I can’t order the Uber without it,” she says, showing me the black screen of her iPhone.

  “I’ve got a charger behind the bar. I can take it and plug it in for you for a bit. You’re welcome to stay here or move over to the bar.”

  “Thank you,” she replies, the tears that were falling just moments ago now drying up. She slides out of the booth, grabbing her purse and phone, and follows me over to the bar. I take her phone and plug it in next to the register.

  “Would you like anything from the kitchen before they close down for the night?” I offer, sliding her glass of water in front of her that I carried back over to the bar. “My treat,” I add as an afterthought.

  “That’s so kind of you,” she says, holding back a new flood of tears that are threatening to spill from her lashes. “I’d love an order of the nachos, if that’s not a problem.”

  “Regular or supreme?” I ask, pulling them up on the computer.

  “Supreme, please.”

  “Chicken or beef, or both?”

  “Chicken, no jalapeño, and extra sour cream, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. Anything else?” I ask before I send the order to the kitchen.


  “That’s all. Thank you.” She picks up the glass of water as I step away and grab the broom to start sweeping the floor behind the bar. I’m able to get that done and have just finished stacking the floor mats that need a good cleaning into a pile, to mop the floor beneath them, when the mystery woman’s order is brought out.

  “One order of supreme nachos, with chicken, no jalapeños, and extra sour cream.” I repeat her order as I set the platter in front of her, along with a roll of silverware and a few extra napkins.

  “Thank you,” she says, digging into the platter.

  “Anytime. I’m Nick, by the way.”

  She accepts the hand I’ve offered across the bar. “Ashley.”

  “Holler if you need anything. I’m going to start mopping while you eat and your phone charges for a little while longer.”

  “Will do,” she tells me.

  I busy myself filling the mop bucket with water and floor cleaner before I get to work on the area behind the bar, followed by the non-slip mats that cover the area. With all that done, I head out into the open area of the bar and start helping Katie flip the chairs up on the tables so we can clean the floors out here. We’ve been working together now for a few years, and have a pretty good routine down.

  “How was the food?” I ask Ashley when I return behind the bar to check on her.

  “Just what I needed. Thank you.”

  “Anytime,” I tell her. “You looked like you could use something to cheer you up.”

  “Yeah,” she says, emotion filling her voice. “It’s been a pretty shitty day, that’s for sure.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I got laid off from my job, only to return to my apartment to find my boyfriend fucking a girl he works with.”

  “Shit. That is one hell of a day.”

  “That it was.” She pulls her hair out of the ponytail it was in and readjusts it to gather all the flyaway hairs that had fallen out.

  “Do you have someplace safe to go to tonight?” I ask, then wonder what the fuck I’m going to do if she tells me no.

  “Yeah, my mom just lives across town.”

  “Good. Here’s your phone. It’s up to fifty percent, so it should last you for a while.”

  “Thank you,” she says, accepting the phone from me. I see her hit the Uber icon and go through the process to set up a ride. “My ride should be here in just a few minutes. Thank you again for the food and water. I really appreciate it.”

  She slips off the bar stool and heads for the front entrance, watching out the windows. Her ride pulls up outside not too much later, and I watch as she walks out to meet it, sliding into the back seat.

  “Ready to lock up?” Katie calls out to me from across the bar, pulling my attention from the taillights disappearing down the road.

  “Yep,” I tell her, now that it’s only the two of us, besides the few employees still cleaning and shutting down the kitchen.

  Thirty minutes later, the kitchen staff has all gone home and Katie and I are packing up, as well. She only has to go up the stairs to the upper penthouse apartment she and Kaiden share.

  “Goodnight. Thanks for all your help tonight,” I call out as I lock up the back door before walking out to my truck.

  “Night, Nick!”

  “See you on the flip side.”

  2

  Ashley

  I rest my head on the seat back in the Uber car, the events of today rolling through my memory like a movie reel. I swear, if it weren’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have luck at all these days. I’ve bounced from dead-end job to dead-end job, and obviously didn’t learn from my mom’s mistakes when it came to picking the men I date. I can’t fucking believe Chris was fucking that slut.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the reel from today to stop playing on repeat. I thought going out with my friends would help put me in a better mood, but really, it only masked things for a few hours. It also didn’t help I couldn’t really afford to be out at a bar. Without a job as of today, and now an apartment, either, my life is really in the dumps. Moving back in with my mom will have to do until I can find another job and save enough to get a small apartment of my own.

  “We’re here,” the driver calls from the front seat. I open my eyes, looking around at the rundown apartment building my mom has lived in since I was a teenager.

  “Thanks,” I say before opening the door and sliding out. I walk up the cracked sidewalk and push open the front door that, at one point, used to lock, but hasn’t in at least five years. I walk down the dimly lit hallway to my mom’s unit, passing by Mr. Richards’ unit, where his television is loud enough I can tell exactly what show he’s currently watching on some cable news station. The old man is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met, but damn, does he need to get his hearing checked.

  I rap my knuckles against the door before I slip my key into the lock and open the door. “Mom,” I call out as I step inside. “Mom, it’s me,” I say, a bit louder. I can hear voices coming from down the hall, so I know she’s here, and apparently not alone.

  “You fucking bitch!” I hear a man’s voice yell out, and then the telltale sound of skin smacking skin. I run for her bedroom and bust through the door, where I find my mom’s latest boyfriend standing a foot or so away from her as she cradles her cheek. The one he’s just backhanded or slapped. I can see the skin already puckering and turning red from the contact.

  “Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops!” I yell at him, the adrenaline taking over. I’ve seen this scene one too many times to allow it to go on.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he snarls.

  “Her daughter, that’s who. And I said to get. The. Fuck. Out,” I seethe as I grind my teeth together.

  He scoffs. “Whatever. I’m outta here.” He turns and beelines it out the door.

  “Mom,” I say, turning back to her. “What happened?”

  “He didn’t like something I said,” she replies, blowing off what just happened.

  “You can’t just take this shit from these men, Mom. You deserve better,” I tell her before I go find her a bag of frozen peas to ice her swollen cheek.

  She settles on the couch and flips off the TV while I take a seat on the recliner on the other side of the small living room.

  “What brings you by so late?” she finally asks me, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.

  I let out a big breath, stalling for a few seconds before I answer her. “I had a pretty shitty day. Got fired, then walked in on Chris fucking some chick, so I left. Ended up going out with a few friends for ladies’ night, but then realized I didn’t have anywhere to go but here, so here I am. I’ll need to stay for a bit, if that’s okay with you.”

  “You know you’re always welcome here,” she tells me. “It’s only ever been the two of us, Ash. The only person I can always count on is you.”

  Her words bring tears to my eyes and I blink rapidly to keep them from rolling down my cheeks.

  “Yeah, at least we have each other.” I lean back in the chair and blow out a breath, wondering where in the hell my life went so wrong. I’m twenty-five and a college dropout. I can’t even keep a steady waitressing job—or a boyfriend, apparently, that either doesn’t think he can put his hands on me or cheat on me. I guess the statistics aren’t in my favor, seeing as I’m falling right into my mom’s steps and following in her example.

  “I’m going to head off to bed,” I say a few minutes later. “I love you, Mom.”

  I head down the hall to my old room, the one I’ve come and gone from over the years. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to move back home with my mom, but god, do I wish it could be the last. I toss my purse and cell on the bed, then head into the bathroom. Thankfully, I’m able to rummage through the cabinet and find a new toothbrush; one of the free ones the dentist gives you at an appointment. After finishing up in the bathroom, I head back into the bedroom and rummage through the dresser, finding an old t-shirt and
some shorts to sleep in. In my haste to get out of my apartment earlier, I didn’t grab anything but what I already had on me when I walked in and then right back out.

  I pull back the covers and slip between the cool sheets. This bed is anything but comfortable, but it’s better than sleeping in my car. I remember the day my mom found it on Craigslist for free. I’d been sleeping on the couch for a few months by that point, and desperately needed a bed of my own. It was already old and lumpy when she got it all those years ago, but we’ve always lived paycheck to paycheck, and replacing it was never in the budget.

  I was lucky to have enough clothes to get me through the week, and to have food in the house some days. There were a few times the only meal I ate each day was the free lunch from school, and or the food my friends would insist I take from them. I always did my best to hide what my home life was like; it was embarrassing to admit it to my friends my mom was poor. It also didn’t help she didn’t make the best decisions when it came to men coming in and out of our life.

  I stare up at the ceiling, willing the tears not to start flowing once again. I make a promise to myself, tomorrow will be a new day. I’ll hit the ground running, finding as many places as I can to fill out applications, to get a new job as soon as possible. I should have asked Nick if they were hiring for any servers. It seemed like a pretty busy place, so maybe I can stop back there tomorrow and see about a job. At this point, I don’t really care what the job is. As long as it’s not stripping, and pays me, I’m happy.