CHAPTER EIGHT
ELLIOT
I stop at the closest bar on my way home from work.
AB will forgive me, won’t she?
She always does, we are the dynamic duo. I’ve called and texted a million times with no answer. I will try again tomorrow, but tonight I’m going to drink myself stupid, find some hottie to stick my dick in, and hopefully wake up in the morning with an idea of how to apologize to her.
I walk into the bar and grab the closest stool.
“Whatever you have on draft and keep it coming,” I say to the bartender, not bothering to look up from my phone.
“You got it, but you’re not from around here, are you?” The sexy female voice and unexpected question shake me from my moping.
I look up and see the half-naked bartender covered in leather from head to toe. Her hair pulled back into a high ponytail, golden curls rioting around her shoulders, creamy skin gleaming in the bright lights. The brown vest leaves her arms bare and hugging her tits, pushing them up for my viewing pleasure in the deep V, ties down the front securing her in the warm leather. Smooth, supple leather cupping her ass, thighs, making them shine
“Do you want this beer or are you just gonna stare at my tits?” The sassy bartender says with a hand on her hip.
“Why can’t I do both,” I give her a wink before taking a swig of my beer.
After a few rounds I’m starting to feel those beers, I suddenly feel a tap on my shoulder.
“Yea?” I look up and see one sexy bartender looking at me with desire in her eyes.
“After you finish that beer, I'll be on my break. Maybe we can go somewhere and have a little fun?”
The bartender leans across the bar and pulls my ear into her mouth. It takes every ounce of the control I still have not to fall off my stool. She moans like a wanton whore as she slowly releases it.
“So, what do you say? Wanna get out of here?” She asks.
I drop back onto my stool, shake my head to clear the fog and slur, “Heeeellllll yeah! I’ll go…*burp*… with you as long as my dick goes down your…urm…throat.”
Maybe, I can fuck the image of Annabelle’s tears out of my brain.
She hops over the bar and yells down to her partner.
“Let’s go handsome.”
She grabs my hand, and I stumble as my foot gets stuck in the rung of the stool. She wraps her arm around my waist, and we walk toward the door. We don’t even make it outside before she has me pushed up against the door, my arms reach out to try to catch myself as the door opens before my feet are steady, and her hand is in my jeans rubbing my dick.
Fuck that feels good.
I push my way through the door and come face to face with someone’s fist.
Fuck that hurt!
I have pain radiating from my jaw, and it’s helping to clear some of the alcohol from my brain. When I reach up to touch my lip, I pull my hand back covered in blood.
“How dare you touch my woman!” The mountain with iron fists shouts at me with a finger in my face, at least I think it’s just one finger. After a moment he turns to the girl who still has a hold on my dick.
“What the fuck Erin, we have a fight, and then I catch you sucking face with this prep school reject? What, did you think he could be your sugar daddy or something?”
She finally removes her hand from my pants, and the movement causes a moan to leave my mouth.
“I wasn’t…doing…the touching…She was doing the...uh...touching!”
This dude is pissed. He charges at me, I try to move out of the way but fall instead. Luckily, it trips him up, so he lands on his face. I scramble to my feet, and the world isn’t spinning as fast anymore. I stand over him and kick him directly in the kneecap. He howls in pain and crumples to the grown. I stomp on his leg. *CRACK*.
I hear the sirens before I feel a sharp pain, across the back of my head. I turn around to see Erin holding a shipping crate.
“You bitch…” before everything goes black.
ANNABELLE
The sun shining happily through my window wakes me early. I slept like the dead after everything that happened yesterday. I’m not surprised. I stretch and hiss as my legs move. It looks like more meds are needed. Maybe an Epsom salt bath will help too.
Heading to the bathroom, slowly and carefully, I pop some more meds and start the bath. Adding oils to calm my torn soul and soothe my angry skin, and salts to relax the muscles.
When I get out of the bath, I feel better. I need coffee and my warm snuggly robe to keep me comfortable today. While the coffee pot is percolating, I search for my phone since it’s not plugged into the charger on the counter. It’s probably dead from Elliot blowing it up.
I find it in my purse which I dropped right inside the door last night, along with my coat and shoes. I plug it in, the screen turns on, and the notifications start going crazy. All I can do is stare at it in shock as the missed calls, voicemails, and text messages add up. Thirty-one missed calls, twelve voicemails, and fifty-seven text messages.
I haven’t had enough caffeine to deal with this mess yet, not enough fucks to give. I know I have to talk to Elliot, but I don’t know what to say. I’m sure I hurt his feelings yesterday and embarrassed him by screaming my rejection while in the middle of the office. In my defense, I was in a lot of pain, confused, so when he asked me out, I snapped. It was the straw the broke the camel's back.
Half an hour later, I’m tits deep in voicemails. All of them are from Elliot. Some are begging me to talk to him, some are him apologizing, some of them are telling me it was just a joke, and then yelling, some are telling me not to be a bitch, and finally, from the county jail.
What the hell did he do?
ELLIOT
I have no idea where the fuck I am or what the fuck happened, but it smells like piss. The last thing I remember is baiting the shit out of that dude in front of the bar and that bitch Erin hitting me over the head with a damn shipping crate.
Feeling around to make sure all my parts are still connected, I make sure that the blood on my clothes is not mine. Good.
Now, figure out where you are, dumbass.
I sit up and look around.
Ain’t this peachy?
It looks like I have landed myself in lock up.
Since I have no idea how I got here, I should still be entitled to my one God damn phone call. I get up off the bench I have been laying on and fall directly on my ass. Ouch.
“Hey...Hey! Anyone out there?”
I wait a little while to see if anyone answers me before I start over again. It seems like hours before someone even comes to see if I am dead or not.
“Lookie here fellas, drunkie is finally awake,” the officer says.
“Officer, can you tell me what the hell happened? I am sure since I was unconscious when I was brought in, I didn’t get my phone call. I need to call someone to come pick me up.” I tell him.
“Yup you sure were. You got your ass kicked by a chick. Very manly of you. You came to while the paramedics were checking you out, but were too drunk to let. You couldn’t even walk straight, so into the drunk tank you went. I would stay away from that bar if I were you, just a word of advice.” He can barely contain his laughter.
Well, no shit!
“Thanks for the advice. I can guarantee I won’t be drinking like that again in the future. I’m sure you have heard the sob stories before, they always go back to a damn girl.”
“Oh, that would explain all the damn blubbering on the phone every time we let you make a call to some chick named Annabelle. That must be some damn good pussy for you to be begging like that.”
“Yea, she's important to me. Is it possible for me to give her one more call, officer?” I plead with the officer.
“Well, your sorry ass is in luck! Not only are you getting out of here, but she must really love your ass because she just spent hours filling out paperwork to get your ass out. You have a lot of pussy to eat to make up for that shit.”
Oh, this motherfucker has no idea. No idea at all. I am in so much trouble.
ANNABELLE
Two hours of paperwork later, I’m standing out front of the jail in my comfy clothes, a maxi skirt, and hoodie, waiting for Elliot’s dumbass to be released. After some time in the drunk tank maybe he chilled the hell out, probably not, but here’s hoping.
Elliot stalks out of jail, wearing the clothes he had on at work yesterday, but now with what I assume is blood. He was arrested for assault after getting into a bar fight, what he was doing at a biker bar is beyond me.
Fists clenched, head down like he’s stalking prey, he comes straight at me.
“Why didn’t you answer your damn phone?” He damn near shouts at me.
I gawk up at him.
“Are you kidding me? I come all the way down here when I’m feeling like shit, bail you out, and that’s the first thing you say to me?” I say incredulously.
“What do you mean you feel like shit? What’s wrong?” He straightens up and looks me over, head to toe.
“I just...I...I just don’t feel well Elliot!”
Throwing my hands up in the air in exasperation, I am not about to try to explain my ass bruises to him.
Elliot reaches out and holds my cheeks in his hands, studying me intently. I close my eyes, trying to hide the turmoil that’s going on inside of me. I can’t explain it to myself, much less to anyone else.
“Talk to me AB, what’s going on with you lately?” he says, concern was written all over his face.
I take his hands off my face, wrap my arms around myself and look atmy feet.
“Look, Elliot, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not sure what’s going on with me right now anyway. I’m just all jumbled up. What’s wrong with me is not the point. I believe you owe me an apology for being a dick.”
He takes a very deliberate breath in and releases it. He then reaches out and wraps me in a hug.
“I’m sorry. I was worried about you. Thank you for coming and bailing me out.”
“If you were that worried about me, why didn’t you just come to my apartment? It’s not like you don’t have a key.”
I can’t help to lean into him and pressing my cheek against his chest taking the comfort he is offering, my best friend in the entire world.
He kisses my forehead then puts his forehead on my shoulder.
“I didn’t think you wanted to see me. I made an ass out of myself. I’m sorry for embarrassing you in front of everyone at work. Twice.”
He takes a deep breath and lets it out, warming me up.
I sigh and look up at him, “Oh, Elliot. I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I shrieked at you like that. I…uh...I wasn’t in my right frame of mind, and you caught me off guard.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and press my cheek to his chest again. Even after being in the jail all night, he still smells like him, sandalwood, and musk.
Elliot steps back, “I think greasy Chinese food and Netflix is the plan for today. What do you say?”
I laugh, “That sounds great, but your sister's engagement party is tonight, and YOU are going.”
Elliot groans, “Will you at least be my date? You know I can’t stand being around my family.”
“I suppose,” I sigh.
I’ve always had to be the peacekeeper between him and the rest of his family.