Body Lock (2 page)

The bones in my ankle popped with every step. The snapping caused me to flinch, but I never slowed down. Rain drizzled onto the sidewalk. The cool droplets were a welcome distraction. I tilted my flushed face towards the sky. The earthy smell of the heat pouring off the wet asphalt punched me in the face, causing me to wrinkle my nose.

People hurried up and down the sidewalks, rushing to get out of the rain. Not me. I let it wash over me and prayed it would silently wash me away. I didn’t know where I was headed, blindly meandering the streets.

The rain tapered off and I found myself standing in front of The Black Keys. It was a small, but a popular jazz club nestled in the Warehouse District of Austin. It also happened to be Scott’s favorite spot. We spent hours at ‘our’ table dreaming and making wedding plans. He was finishing school to receive his MBA, but his real passion was helping people in need. He wanted to start a non-profit foundation for the homeless community in our area. Scott was all heart. A heart that I ultimately resented.

I stepped through the familiar black iron gate leading down the small garden path. The soothing notes of a saxophone filled my ears, gripping my insides. I found our old table, off to the side and out of the way of foot traffic. Scott always said it helped him focus on what was really important.

It felt like a lifetime had gone by. I sat, careful to choose my seat, almost pretending like he was in the bathroom or putting in a drink order. The small votive in the middle of the table flickered. I closed my eyes to replay the image of him in my head and the way the shadows used to dance across his face. His warm face, always smiling, welcoming.

Damn him
!

“Ma’am, are you ready to order? Here’s our current wine list. Would you like to start with an appetizer?”

I gazed at the young woman. I didn’t recognize her. My heart skipped a beat, feeling as if she were intruding. She didn’t know Scott. She didn’t have a right to pull me away from my time with him. A pain shot up from the base of my neck, serving as a painful reminder.

I’m alone. He’s not here. He’s gone forever.

“Yes, a shot of Patron, please.” I ignored the scowl on her youthful face. “Oh, and you can start a tab.”

The server rolled her eyes in distaste as she headed back to the bar. My heart fluttered Scott would not approve. He wasn’t a drinker, and truth be told, neither was I. We might enjoy a nice bottle of wine, but I was typically the designated driver or purse girl. You know, the girl who got stuck holding everyone’s purses while they danced or flirted or whatever the hell they did.

I guess I was making up for lost time.

“Here you go,” the waitress said as she placed a napkin on the table, followed by a shot. “Will there be anything else?”

I eyeballed the tiny, clear glass. It taunted me. I heard Scott’s silky voice in the back of my mind forbidding me from going any further.

You left me
.

I picked up the glass. The cold condensation mixed with my trembling fingers made for a bad combination. The liquid sloshed in the glass as I lifted it to my lips. The sharp, searing bite of tequila nipped at my throat on the way down before settling to boil deep in my stomach.

I flipped the glass upside down. Something I had seen in a movie. “Another, please.”

The smile on the server’s face vanished. She drew her slender lips into a hard line and gave a curt nod.

The liquid sat like a blazing ball of fire in my gut. Cigarette smoke from the neighboring table rolled past my nose, making my head fuzzy. My insides were tossing back and forth by the time the waitress returned with a second shot and a glare.

“Anything else?”

“Another.”

“Ma’am, can I get you something to go with that? We have coconut shrimp on special tonight.”

I lowered my head. “Look, I’m not trying to be rude, but I don’t need a mother. Just the tequila, please.”

Everyone wanted to be my mother lately. I threw back the shot. It was a little easier than the first time, but only because I knew what to expect. The heavy weight rested like a fiery ball of lead, directly on top of the other.

“Here, I brought you some crackers too.” The waitress placed the glass and basket of snacks on the table and stormed away.

I shoved the crackers and downed the alcohol. This time I didn’t have to work up the courage. Easy peasy. The liquid went straight to my head. I giggled, not realizing it was out loud.

“Having a good time?”

My head snapped, which wasn’t a very good idea in light of my liquid dinner. The husky voice belonged to the cigarette smoker behind me. He appeared to be an older gentleman with trimmed brown hair and a deceiving smile. He was handsome enough, but I couldn’t look beyond the smoky breath.

“I am, thanks.” I flashed a smile and turned back to my own table, gazing at Scott’s empty chair.

“Well, maybe we can work together to make it an even better time.” The man was now standing, hovering over me.

The server returned. “Ma’am, I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut you off.”

“Cut me off? What da hell for?” I snickered at the slurred words.

“You’re here alone, and we can’t be responsible for sending you back out on the streets. Perhaps if you have a little something to eat?”

My face twisted into a pout. I leaned in to read her nametag. “Come on, Sheila. Help a girl out. I don’t wanna eat. Just another shot. Pretty please?”

Sheila opened her mouth to speak, but was quickly silenced as the man brushed past her and plopped down in the seat across from me.

Scott’s seat.

“You heard the lady. She’ll take another drink.”

“But...” Sheila grimaced as Mr. Cocky put his hand in the air, silencing her once again. Poor Sheila. Her eyes grew wide.

“My friend here is not alone. She’s in my personal care, you have my word.” His lips curled at the ends into a devilish grin as Sheila disappeared in a huff.

“Thanks, but you didn’t have to do that.” I rolled my eyes and popped my lips, proud of myself for piecing together a full sentence. At least it was a full sentence in my head.

“No worries. I didn’t want to see your good time come to an end. Let me introduce myself,” he leaned in and took my hand. “I’m Jared, and it is absolutely my pleasure,” he stated just before planting his wet lips on my hand, leaving the heavy stench of stale tobacco.

“Dakota,” I responded as I snatched my hand away and wiped the backside across my jeans. I gave a weak smile when I noticed the wounded looked in his eyes.

Sheila slipped in and out without being noticed, other than the two tiny glasses left on the table. I raised an eyebrow and motioned towards the one in front of Jared. When he shook his head, I shrugged and tossed back my own shot.

Jared angled his jaw, jutting his chin into the air. He shoved his glass in my direction. I viewed the gesture as a challenge. I was happy to comply. I locked eyes with Jared and drained the glass. Surprised at how the burning had disappeared, I didn’t react to the harsh liquor. I smirked. My chest bowed.

What the hell is happening to me
?

His cocky expression faded. “Impressive.” I wasn’t too drunk to notice the way his raspy voice dripped with an undertone.

“Mmhmm,” was all I could manage. Jared spoke, but I couldn’t make out his words. However, by the gleam in his smoldering eyes, he thought I was fully engaged.

“So, what do you think?” He asked with an expectant leer.

“I’m sorry, about what?”

He pressed his lips together and scratched his forehead. “About moving this party to my place.”

Before he finished his sentence, my stomach pitched. The boiling liquid rebelled in my gut, bubbling in my throat. I tried to swallow back the bitterness.

I pushed my chair back from the table and struggled to stand. The fuzziness in my head made it difficult to judge distance and I toppled over.

Jared bent over, never leaving his chair. “Maybe you should go clean yourself up a bit.”

“Ya’ think?” I spat back at him.

Sheila busted through the crowd and stooped over me. “Aw, hon. I knew this would happen.” She shot her gaze at Jared, who only shrugged. “I thought you were going to take care of her?”

“Hell no. I didn’t sign up for this shit.”

I noticed a pair of obnoxious dress shoes shuffle past.
Dodged that bullet
. I chuckled, only to be reminded that the eager vomit wouldn’t wait much longer.

“Come on, hon. Let’s get you up.” Sheila’s hard scowl gave way to concern. She pulled her brow together and ran her hands over my arms.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

She offered a warm smile. “Anyone can see you’re in pain. I wasn’t trying to ruin your good time. I was trying to keep you from making things worse for yourself. Come on now, let’s get you up.”

My body shifted. “Bathroom...”

Sheila’s eyes widened, indicating that she understood the weight of the situation. She quickly plucked me up from the slick floor and I zigzagged through the mob of jazz fans. I barreled through the bathroom door and fell into the first stall.

One heave was all it took. I retched every ounce of liquid from my body.

My legs trembled as I tried to stand long enough to rinse out my mouth. I wrestled with the decision to look in the mirror, ultimately giving in.

My soft curls now looked like a used cotton swab. My makeup was smeared down my face. Dark circles encased my dull eyes.

Scott would be disappointed. What I wouldn’t give to hear him tell me what a fuck up I was.

A flash of green eyes with strands of shaggy black hair peered back at me. His warm smile, now twisted from disapproval.

Scott.

P
ain pierced my eyes as I pried open my swollen lids. The thumping in my temples radiated through my veins.

“Dumbass.”

I shot up, instantly regretting the sudden movement. I groaned and fell back into my pile of pillows. “Shit.”

“Yeah, you feel pretty bad, do ya’?” Megan’s chipper voice cut into my head like an ice pick to my eye.

“What happened?” Through the tiny slits in my heavy lids, I could make out the furrowed wrinkles between Megan’s brows. My brain pounded against my skull, hammering in rhythm with my heartbeat.

“Well, I was in the middle of a cut and color for the songwriters gala. You know the event I’ve been talking about for months. The one that would have opened doors to a whole new level of clientele. Yeah, I was in the middle of coloring when I get a call from some chick named Sheila from The Black Keys. She said she dug my number out of a cell phone. Anyway, she starts telling me how someone I know is drunk and needed help. I’m like, hmmm, that could be a ton of people, so I asked her to describe the person. Imagine my surprise when she goes on and on about some skinny, curly headed, loud mouth chick who’s tossing her cookies in the bathroom. I’m like, hell no. Not Dakota. There’s no way Dakota is stupid enough to be shitfaced and alone in the Warehouse District.”

I cringed with every word.

“Oh, I’m not done. By luck, I found someone to take over my client, the one that’s been on the books for months, and head down to the club. What do I find? My best friend passed smooth out on the funky bathroom floor.”

My cheeks burned. I buried my face further under the comforter.

“The only reason I didn’t take you to the hospital is because, by the look of that bathroom, you threw up all the alcohol in your system. Not to mention everything else.” Megan wrinkled her nose and grimaced.

I swallowed. My throat was on fire. It felt like I had eaten my weight in sandpaper and glass.

“Sip slowly.” Megan had always been able to read my mind.

I took a small sip, but the cool water was so refreshing against my fiery throat that I started to guzzle. My stomach quickly revolted and I heaved. Thankful there was nothing left to throw up, I drew in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds to make sure.

“Yeah, but I didn’t get a gun.” I attempted a small chuckle, but to only set my lungs on fire.

Megan’s usual vibrant smile faded. “You’re not amusing, Dakota. Not anymore. Get cleaned up and meet me in the living room.” She placed two, tiny capsules on the bedside table. She must have noticed my reluctant expression. “Chill out, it’s just ibuprofen,” she responded as she left me to wallow in my own self-pity.

I took a quick shower, mostly because the hot water left me nauseated and dizzy. I brushed away the muck that had been growing on my teeth and threw on a pair of Scott’s old sweats.

“We’re going to have another argument, aren’t we?” I sunk into the corner of the sofa and buried myself with a throw pillow.

“No, I’m done fighting. It’s not getting us anywhere, but we do need to talk. Need to clear the air.” Megan looked so regal. Always dressed to the nines, poised with her shoulders back, immediately making me feel inferior.

“If it’s about last night, don’t bother. I won’t be doing that again anytime soon.”

The way Megan’s discerning eyes focused on me made me squirm.

“It’s not so much about the drinking. It happens to the best of us. I’ve been drunk more times than I can count. It’s more about the why. Why the change in character. The cussing, the crazy daredevil shit, wanting a gun, the need to go out alone and put yourself in a dangerous situation like you did last night.”

“You’re making too much out of it. I wasn’t in any danger.”

Megan sighed and smoothed her hands over her silky hair. “I spoke to the waitress. She told me that you came in alone and she tried to cut you off. She also said some guy came out of nowhere and was trying to pick you up.”

“Oh yeah, Jared,” I mumbled.

She scoffed. “Well,
Jared
was all about getting you liquored up and your pants down. He was trying to get laid.”

“It wasn’t like that.” I tried to piece together the details. Maybe it was. He did say something about his place.

“Oh honey, it’s
always
like that.”

Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes. “Not with Scott it wasn’t.” My voice quivered as the words escaped.