Always For You (Books 1-3) (6 page)

It was never an offer I was going to
take. Frankly, the idea of being around Tom any more than I already
was wasn't as appealing as it should have been.

I'll have to admit the first night at
the bar was fairly daunting. I had no idea how to make drinks and was
sure I'd screw it all up. However, that first night was also the best
night I'd had since the accident. It was the first night where I'd
actually forgotten about things, forced to forget by the rush of
being behind the bar, cooking up cocktails and drinking some shots
after hours with the other staff.

I met a couple of girls and guys that
first night and they settled in to initiate me when the night was
done. It was about 1 am on a Friday and they got me drunk slamming
cocktails and shots.

“
OK,”
said Marco, a 28 year old Italian American, “a shot for every guy
you've slept with.”

He and 'Pinch', aptly named for his
approach to women by pinching their bottoms, lined up a few shots
along the bar, speculatively putting down ten. I don't know what
they'd read in me, but I only shot the one.

“
One!”
they exclaimed together, “you've only slept with one guy?!”

I nodded. “Yep, Tom, been with him
for nearly 5 years now.”

“
God
on ya girl.” It was a Chloe, a motherly type who'd been showing me
the ropes all night. “It's better to have a low number.”

“
Ha!
For women, yes. For men, nooooo,” said Marco, every inch the
Lothario with his slicked back black hair and perma tanned face.

I wondered if Tom would agree, as he'd
also only slept with me.

I started the job over the December
period, and as the days drew on my life became ever more nocturnal.
I'd work as many shifts as possible, often working every night of the
week if I could, staying after hours and drinking with the staff and
any other locals who liked a lock in.

It was the only thing that gave me
pleasure, getting out of that house, getting down to that bar. I'd
drink, drink more than I ever did, to numb the pain. Every morning
I'd wake up, a dull throb in my head, an ache in my heart. The longer
I stayed up, the longer I drank for, the easier it would be the next
day. I'd have less time to wait until my next shift, until my next
drink.

Sometimes
I'd have no recollection of the night, drinking myself to a stupor.
One night in particular about a week before Christmas I managed to
blank out through an almighty fight, only hearing about it the next
day. Apparently it had been over me or something, some weird guy and
his mate picking on the guys I was drinking with after closing. I
just hoped it wasn't Tom.
Fat
chance of that.

By January I'd began going to the bar
even when I wasn't working. I'd started making friends with the
locals there, people I never would have got to know otherwise. It was
a vicious cycle, a cycle of drinking and sleeping, drinking and
sleeping. I knew it wasn't healthy, physically or emotionally, but I
didn't care. It was helping me right now.

My dad grew ever more frustrated with
me, and I him.

“
Grace,”
he said to me one day as I trundled downstairs at 3 pm, “this is
unhealthy. You have to stop living like this. It's been weeks now.”

I had no reply, not on that morning,
not on any morning. I'd grown apart from him, his constant nagging at
me to stay in, quit the job, work somewhere else. I'd grown tired of
Tom as well, always jealous, always questioning me when I didn't text
him back while working.

He came into the bar one night and saw
me laughing with Marco over in the corner. He stormed over, his face
red, and threw his phone down on the table in front of us.

“
I
texted you FOUR times over the last few hours, and I called you
twice. What the hell Grace, why the fuck are you being like this.”

I saw Marco stifle a bit of a laugh as
his words began to crumble. “Tom, you're embarrassing me in front
of my friends. Look, I'll talk to you tomorrow, OK.”

“
Screw
this Grace, you've changed. I love you but this is bullshit. Your mom
died months ago, get over it.”

His words hit me like a knife in the
back. He'd never spoken to me like that, no one had. Before I could
reply Marco stood up, his frame carrying his wide shoulders far above
Toms. “You gonna come in here and talk to your own girlfriend like
that? You better get the fuck out before I throw you out on your
face.”

I just sat there, tears once more
building in my eyes. I'd managed to keep them down for weeks, trying
not to think about it all, but he brought it all right back. “Grace,
I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just finding this so
hard.”

“
Just
leave Tom,” I said quietly through a whisper. “Leave.”

He hesitated, his face full of remorse.
“Grace, I really didn't mean it. I can't believe I said...”

“
LEAVE,”
I shrieked at the top of my voice, the smattering of customers left
in the bar all turning towards me.

With that Marco grabbed Tom and dragged
him outside, throwing him out onto the cold street. I watched as he
kicked him in the stomach while he was down, seeing Tom squirm there,
gasping for air.

I didn't care. Not anymore.

December
19
^th
2012

Cain

Christmas
was always my least
favorite
time of year. Anyone without a family always said the same. Seeing
all those happy families out and about was like a dagger in my chest,
a reminder that I had no one. This year would be like the last couple
– alone in my flat with a bottle of whiskey and a heat up roast
dinner. Maybe I'd push the boat out and get a little tree.

I'd
been working a lot recently, trying to take my mind off all that shit
from September. It wasn't easy, it had settled in there like a
splinter, always bothering me, a dull throb in my head. I was past
the worst of it though, and had been getting as many shifts as
possible at
Foz
where I worked. Brad had been doing the same, which was cool.
That
guy's awesome
.

“
Bro!
Drinks later. No 'no's' mate,” he said in mid December, a week or
so before Christmas.

“
When
do I ever say 'no'? Credit where it's due!” Brad was pretty much
the only guy I really liked in town, the only guy I, if ever, would
speak my mind to.

I'd told him over a few too many drinks
one night about the crash, something he didn't even know about. He
wasn't one to watch the news, so it was quite refreshing to be able
to tell him about it and not have him pre-judge the situation.

“
So
let me get this straight. You were cruising to check out a chick,
then dropped back and some guy swerved off and hit the car in front.”
I nodded. “Mate, nothing wrong there. It's that dickhead cars fault
for being too close in the first place. No wonder they didn't come
forward.”

“
And
mate,” he continued, “then you go and rush in and save the chick,
try to save the mother, and almost die yourself. Fuck bro, what the
hell are you beating yourself up about for? Who else woulda done that
shit?”

I still felt awful about the whole
thing, but that sort of pep talk certainly helped. Whatever the case,
it was good to get it off my chest and to talk about it with someone,
rather than have it festering in my head.

That night we pounded a few shots
behind the bar as we worked. It was a fairly quiet Thursday in town
so Gary, the bar manager, let us shoot off a little early, leaving
him and Carla, the only female member of staff, to finish up.

We cruised a couple of bars for an hour
or so looking for some fun. When the two of us got together, there
were a couple of things on the agenda – women and fighting. We'd
usually get one or the other, sometimes both, particularly if we
ended up trying to hook up with the wrong guy's girl.

The
night was uneventful, at least until we found a bar called
Slice
,
a cocktail bar that neither of us had been to before. Everywhere else
seemed to be closing, so we shot inside to see if there was anything
happening.

There, in the corner of the bar, I saw
Grace for the first time since she'd woken up in the hospital. She
sat at a table, several guys around her, bottles of spirits being
passed about. She was clearly off her head, her eyes sunken into her
drooping head, her body swaying all over the place.

“
Hey
man, isn't that Grace,” said Brad as he turned to see me looking at
her.

I nodded. “She's totally fucked. I
wonder if she's still with her boyfriend. Not sure he'd like all
these guys slobbering all over her.”

I walked to the bar with Brad and
ordered a couple of whiskeys. “Hey honey,” I said to the barmaid,
“do you know that girl down there?”

“
Oh
yeah, that's Gracie, she works here most nights.”

“
Is
she alright....with those guys.”

“
You
her boyfriend or something?” the girl asked.

“
If
I was her boyfriend those guys would be laid out on the floor by
now.”

She laughed. “Tough guy huh?”

“
If
you like.”

“
Nah
babe, they're all good guys, just having a laugh.”

I looked back down to see them swigging
away on their spirits, passing her shot glasses and forcing them down
her. They were laughing and joking around, one of them sliding up
against her, his hand slipping between her legs and up her inner
thigh.

I felt a growing surge of anger in my
body as I watched on, these vultures all circling around her,
stricken and drunk. My pulse began to rise, my breath quickening. I
could feel my glare growing more intense, burning away at the guys
around her.

“
Cain,
what's up man?” Brad said, turning his attention from the barmaid
and seeing my face, my fist threatening to burst the empty shot glass
inside it.

“
Follow
me,” I said as I paced towards to the guys, stopping short in front
of the table. I looked down to see Grace's head swaying, her body
ready to collapse but for the guy supporting her, vodka bottle in
hand.

He looked up at me. “Can we help
you?” His tone was aggressive, just what I was looking for.

“
Yeah.
I think that girl right there's had enough vodka.”

They all turned to me and laughed. “And
what the fuck do you know about how much she needs? Fuck off mate,
it's none of your business.”

My blood was boiling, but I kept it
together. “Well, now you're kinda making it my business.”

“
Mate,
you're on something weird. Just leave us alone, we're having a good
time, what's it to you.”

“
What's
it to me?”

“
Are
you deaf or something mate? Just get the fuck out of here before we
throw you out.”

I smiled lightly, getting exactly the
reaction I wanted. The adrenaline began to pump through my body,
priming me for action. I stood there for a few moments, my eyes
locked on the guy, not moving. Brad stood beside me, an imposing
figure, his jaw clenched, fists tight.

“
Come
on then,” I said, “you gonna throw me out or not tough guy?”

The guy lurched forward suddenly, his
fists flying at my face. I swerved, hooking him right on the side of
the head as he came forward, his body crumbling to the ground like a
rag doll. The other two guys were right behind him, one of them
barrelling forward and spearing me to the ground. He landed on top of
me, his heavyset frame pinning me down momentarily. I twisted my body
suddenly, elbowing him in the jaw and sending him rolling off to the
side.

As I got up I saw Brad pummelling the
third guy, his muscled body lurching over him. The big guy came at me
again, throwing punches quicker than I'd have thought, one of them
cracking me in the ribs. I lost my breath for a moment as I reached
for an empty beer bottle, sending it smashing over his head and
seeing his body collapse to the floor beneath me, blood streaming
from a deep cut.

As I walked over to pull Brad off the
third guy, whimpering on the the floor, I could hear the barmaid
calling upstairs. “Marco, Pinch, get the fuck down here.”

I turned to see Grace lying there,
collapsed in her chair, head hanging down. “You,” I shouted at
the barmaid, still shrieking hysterically, “take care of her.” I
pointed towards Grace.

I rushed from the bar as Marco and
Pinch came tumbling down the stairs, chasing Brad and I out onto the
dark street. “Just another normal night,” he shouted as we ran
off.

“
And
another bar we can't go to again,” I added between breaths.

“
That's
OK,” he said smiling, “it was shit in there anyway.”

February/March 2013

Grace

I
walked into my flat, a small place in the
center
of town. Katie was there, straightening her long blonde hair in the
mirror. She looked stunning, like a supermodel, her long legs
sticking out from beneath a cute dress.

We'd recently moved in together on a
six month lease. I'd had enough of living back home, living with my
dad and his moaning, his hang ups. It was driving me crazy. I'd
dumped Tom as well. I'd found him, of all people, cheating with a
waitress at his dads restaurant. I guess he'd had enough of
everything. I didn't blame him for that.