Chapter 5 Nineteen
?Azalea?
I stumble up onto the sidewalk of town square. I'm back where I started; on my way to get my parents alcohol.
A twenty dollar bill rests firmly in my hand and I don't think I could give it away to the nice homeless man even if I wanted to. The threat my father sent me was enough to make me do anything.
I wish I would just kick him in his nuts.
They wouldn't even let me drive here. I had to walk a full thirty-five minutes from my house to town square.
After the crash, every ounce of activeness I had went out the window. Now, I can't even get out of bed without being out of breath.
After walking for what feels like another three years, I make it to the front of Danny/Donny's shop, whatever his name is. All the lights in the shop are off. Gathering my last little bit of hope, I take a closer look at the door.
Hours: Wed-Fri 12pm-10pm
Sat-Sun 2pm-10pm
I back away from the door and try not to lose my cool. I have been set up for failure. It's actually not like he knew the hours, he's too drunk to remember.
Tears of frustration build in my eyes but I don't let them fall. I take deep breaths and close my eyes envisioning a big red velvet cupcake.
I'm not fixing to go home without anything. Last time I did that, I could hardly move my back for a week.
I decide on Red Street. There are bars all over Red Street so unfortunately, that's my best bet.
I tug on the bottoms of my admittedly kinda short shorts and hug my torso. Clouds circle over my head and my mostly bare arms begin to get chilly. I should've worn a jacket over my t-shirt.
Why is it that none of these little trips ever work out?
The first bar I see, I decide it's good enough. That is until I open the door and see a couple of women on poles. I jump out that place so quick.
God forgive me of my sins.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
I walk a little further down the street and finally I come to a place that actually doesn't look bad. Or like there are strippers inside.
I open the door and faint music and loud talking reach my ears. There are a lot out on the floor with drinks in their hands and the rest are piled up around the actual drink bar, or whatever it's called.
It reminds me of the movie Coyote Ugly to be honest. Except without the women dancing on the bar and all.
The closer I look around, the more I see the drunken people. One guy is tripping over himself and another is leaned up against the wall with his friend holding him up.
I don't even have an ID and I'm not twenty-one, what am I trying to get away with here? I look seven years old.
Maybe they'll see the desperation in my eyes and think 'wow she must be having a hard day, let me give her some moonshine, preferably the closest thing to cherry pie or heck, even peach.'
I feel eyes on me and notice and guy staring directly at me. He's obviously drunk. He sits at the bar, a drink in his hand that is currently being poured out because he's too drunk to keep it up straight.
It doesn't help that he looks at least thirty-five.
I ignore his gaze and just walk up the closest near-empty spot on the bar. I feel my heart pound as I stop at the bar.
I've never even been in a bar and now I'm going to order things? How? What do I do? 'Hello, I'd like some cherry pie moonshine!'
'Hey bartender guy, give me some peach moonshine!"
I'm screwed.
Knowing my luck, they wouldn't even have peach or cherry pie. They'll have something like White Lightning and from what my parents said, that's the nastiest kind.
"Shout em out!" A loud voice shouts over everyone and voices flow into the bar. My eyes fall upon the bartender who works at a nearly impossible speed, all while a smile stays on his face.
His light hair flops over his forehead as he bends under the bar, retrieving a brand new bottle of goodness knows what type of alcohol.
Just as quickly as people call out drinks, he's serving them. Just looking at him makes my head hurt.
"Ya haven't said a word pretty lady; what'd you like?" he speaks loudly, his eyes darting up to mine for a split second. My heart beats even louder as I look around me at any other person but I don't think there are any other girls in my general area.
"Peach moonshine," I speak quickly, getting it over with as fast as I can. The craze around the bar simmers down and now he's only making drinks every ten or so seconds.
When I finally raise my eyes from my hands, he's looking right at me, a slightly confuzzled look on his face.
"Strong drink for such a small person," he chides and I hold back from jumping over the counter and showing him just how a 'small person' like me can break out CIA/karate moves on him.
"Cherry pie could work too," I bite my lip. I don't think cherry pie is any less strong than peach but hey, maybe it is? I don't know, I'm not a scientist.
"You have an ID?" a small smirk now rests on his face and I swear if it weren't for this tall counter, he'd wish he wasn't smirking.
Like really? Who makes a counter this tall? It's up to my chest.
I look down at my feet and notice a step right underneath the counter. Ohhh. Duh.
I step up and now it's not as tall anymore.
"My ID is in my wig that I left a home," I blurt out and internally remind myself to punch myself in the face later.
"No ID?" he chuckles. He's pretty darn good. If he can see past my trained lying, he must've been bartending for a while now. Or he works for the CIA too.
"How old do I look?" I narrow my eyes and his face lights up with a smile. Aw, he's cute. What an anus cake.
"I'll be nice and give you eighteen," he tilts his head and I flick him off under the counter.
"Newsflash, I'm thirty-one," I deadpan.
"Damn, at first I was going to say thirty, but I decided against it," he slaps the table, and I bite the inside of my lip to keep from smiling.
"I guess I can give you something as long as you don't tell other people about my mistake," he shakes his head like he's embarrassed.
"I won't tell anyone," I nod and he shakes his head as he bends, grabbing something from under the counter.
He pulls out a cup filled with peach colored moonshine. I stare at it for a couple of seconds.
"Can I get a top for it," I question and he laughs.
"What, you want to drink moonshine from a sippy cup now?" he replies. One more comment from him and I swear.
How the freak am I going to walk all the way home with an open cup? I know for a fact that I'll forget it's in my hand and it'll tip over.
"Fine," I give him the twenty dollars and say freak it. I'm probably still going to get punished for only bringing a cup home but whatever, it's better than nothing.
"I don't think so," the recognizable voice that I haven't heard in a couple of days says.
I look up and see Grey in all his gorgeous glory. He lifts the drink away from me and he pours it in the sink.
"Grey," I grumble and he turns to me.
"What are you doing Lilah? You're nineteen," his dark eyebrows furrow angrily and I sigh.
"I was close," the bartender guy murmurs and I hold myself back from attacking him.
"I'm not nineteen," I mumble stubbornly even though I am and he raises an eyebrow at me, placing his arms on the counter in front of me. Does he work here?
"Not what you told me," he says lowly.
"Can I get a scotch?" A guy slurs from behind me. His hand curls around my back and I flinch forward in shock, a slight gasp leaving my lips.
Grey throws his forearm forward, slamming it into the guy's chest. My eyes go wide.
"You wanna get handsy, go get a fuckin' hooker," he sneers and the guys eyes widen in fear. I'm pretty sure mine do too.
Without getting his drink, the guy makes his way back out into the large crowd.
"This is why you don't come to places like this," Grey growls out and I bite the inside of my cheek.
He doesn't understand.
"I need moonshine," I tell him strongly. I decide against crossing my arms, figuring it'd make me look less like a cool person.
"You're not getting any," he seemingly grows more frustrated.
"I will climb over this counter and get it myself if you don't give me it," I warn and the closest thing to a smirk takes over his face.
He leans forward and I nearly swoon but I hold myself back.
"Try me."
I'll pull out my CIA moves so quick, he won't know what hit him.
Instead, I lay my head on my arms and hide my face from him, trying to think of an adequate plan.
A slight push on my back gets my attention and I raise my head from my arms. I turn around to see who did it only to be met with a big man's elbow right in the face as he gets into a bar fight with another guy.
My head flies back so fast I could've gotten whiplash if I wasn't so CIA trained.
Good God almighty, that hurts like a mother trucker.
Large hands grab under my arms and lift me back. I feel my butt slide across the counter until I'm on the other side.
What a strong guy.
The taste of blood seeps into my mouth and I cringe. My nose and top lip feel numb at the moment but I know that in the morning, I'll definitely be feeling the pain.
Unfortunately, I can't even smell Grey due to the blood filling my nose. What a shame. He turns me toward him, and I blink rapidly keeping my eyes from watering up.
I can't even think clearly right now. Is he being nice or am I hallucinating?
"Lilah-" the bartender from before starts but Grey cuts him off with a glare. And, he's back.
"Her name's Azalea."
"Azalea, are you okay?" he winces, handing me a stack of napkins. I shove them on my nose and give him a little nod.
Grey stands in between my legs and I'm glad I have napkins over my face because I'm blushing like a mother-frigger right now.
I pull the napkins away and look up at him.
"This is what you get for not giving me moonshine. A bloody counter," I narrow my eyes. He rolls his dark eyes and grabs my hand, putting it back up to my nose.
He lifts me down from the counter and I look down at all the drink selections under the counter. I spot the moonshine. I go for it.