Page 45 of Misguided
The rest clap in unison, chanting, “more, more, more.”
“What the fuck’s going on over there?” I ask, thumbing to the small crowd.
Beth looks away, Crackers frowning a little. “You want to head out front and catch me up on what happened after you left?” he asks.
“There’s really not much to say,” I half laugh. “I sat in the forest and failed miserably at becoming friendly with the woodland creatures like Snow White.”
He fights a smile. “Bet it wasn’t all that dull.” He stands, forcing Beth back from where she’s been standing over his knee. “Come on. Beth can catch you up on things around here, too.”
“Why the rush?” I ask. “I’ve got nothing but time now I’m back, and besides”—I gesture to everyone around us—“it’s not all that quiet around here tonight. Pretty hard to hold a decent conversation, even outside.”
The smile fades from my face as I realize in that moment why Crackers is pushing so hard. He fucks up, glancing over my head to the crowd.
I swear I hear the cavernous echo as my heart hits the floor.
“What are they cheering on, Crackers?” I daren’t turn around.
He flat out ignores me, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a pack of smokes.
“Beth?” I implore her to answer me with my gaze, yet she looks everywhere but at my face, even going so far as to look to Crackers for guidance.
The rational side of me says this has nothing to do with Dog, considering I didn’t exactly broadcast the interest I have in the guy when we arrived. But the frenetic pace of my heart says it has everything to do with him.
I set the bottle of vodka on the bar and turn around, slowly, carefully. Crackers reaches for me, yet his hand slips weakly from my arm as even he gives into the inevitable and lets me go.
I make my way through the people milling about, enjoying their night carefree and unaffected, until I reach the crowd that’s stopped chanting. They erupt into an ear-splitting roar as I reach the outskirts and nudge a prospect aside to see what has their attention glued to the middle of this gathering.
I stare, my eyes glazed at the train wreck before me, yet all I see are trees. Trees and the way the dew would sparkle in the dawn light as I sat on the step of my trailer with a mug of cheap coffee.
I want to go back. Now. So badly, that I’d even forego a fast ride on the back of a nomad’s bike all over again in favor of the unrealistic option to just snap my fingers and be there.
“Mel.” Dog’s eyes go wide-eyed as he wobbles a step to the left, wiping his mouth with his forearm.
I sat upstairs for two hours and used the memory of this man’s words, his touch, to get me to have the courage to come down here like this, and now … Why do I trust people when others warn me not to? Why do I do this to myself?
The crowd falls quiet except for the occasional murmur as I spin on my heel and march from the room. I lash my arm out and snatch up the vodka on my way past, being sure to lay one hell of a hate-filled stare on Crackers.
He knew, and yet he did nothing.
“Mel!”
I glance over my shoulder as Dog crashes into one of the old ladies, his hands reaching out to steady her as much as himself while his gaze stays locked on me.
Well, as best it can when he’s absolutely hammered.
“Just fuckin’ wait up, would you woman?”
The alcohol sloshes to the top of the bottle as I whip around and thrust the vodka-filled hand angrily in his direction. “No, Dog. I won’t.” I stab the drink toward his circus. “Get back to it, huh? Before she gets too cold. I’ve got other things I’d rather be doing.” My eyes coast around the room at the faces turned toward me, at the pitiful eyes. “Fuck it,” I yell. “Probably other people I’d rather do, too.”
He stands shocked as though my words have physically slapped him, his hair a fine mess, making him seem even more gorgeous in this moment of pain.
I hate him for it, for how he can be the biggest jerk there is and still command the room with his effortless charm.
The fornicating couple in the foyer have separated in the chaos, the guy going so far as to open the door for me as I storm toward the exit. The cold night air slaps me as hard as the words that spew from Dog’s mouth as he follows me to the exit.
“Run away again, Mel, since that fixed things so well last time.”
There’s no conscious thought in my next move, only pure agonizing injustice at how out of control I’ve been of my life the past year. I spin around and hurl the bottle at him, vodka spraying in a cartwheel as it flies through the air, narrowly missing him as he twists to one side to avoid the missile.