Loud: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Male Romance) (22 page)

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR

Emerson

I couldn’t help but remember the
last time I’d paced the floor of a hospital waiting room. My grandmother had
gone in for heart surgery. That was almost as nerve-wracking as waiting for the
doctor to come out and give us some news about Dad’s procedure. Anne tried to
keep my mind off it by asking about how school was going and other random
questions. I figured it was as much for her own sanity as it was for mine, so I
finally took a seat next to her and played along with her twenty questions.

When the doctor finally entered
the private waiting area, he assured us that the surgery had been successful
and everything had gone exactly how they had hoped it would. It was reassuring
to hear my dad would make a full recovery and be back to one hundred percent
health in a matter of weeks. I couldn't wait to tell Brooke. I only hoped she
didn’t try to text or call while I was gone and think I was ignoring her,
especially after what had happened between us Sunday night.

I didn’t stick around as long as
I would have liked after Dad’s surgery. I’d already missed two days of classes,
and I didn’t need to miss a third. So, after he’d come out of his drug-induced stupor
and before they could settle him back into another one, I talked to him for a
few minutes and hit the road once his second round of pain meds kicked in.

It was around midnight when I got
back into town. As I turned the last corner onto the road in front of my
apartment building, flashing blue lights caught my attention. There were two
police cars parked in front. We didn't see many cops in our area, so I hoped
nothing bad had happened.

I pulled up to the curb and
parked my bike, apprehensive and a little worried as I stretched my back. I
walked up into the building, intending to drop off my backpack at my place and
then see if Brooke was awake so that I could tell her the good news – and
explain that the reason I hadn't been able to message her for two days was that
my phone had fallen out somewhere on the road.

I opened the front door of my
place and stepped in, dropping my bag as I did – and I immediately froze. There
were four cops standing in our living room, and Chris was sitting on the sofa
with his head in his hands. Ciara and a few of her friends were standing around
looking guilty, as well.

One of the cops shone his
flashlight in my face.

“Well, well, well, you must be
Emerson. Am I right?” he asked.

“Uh, yes sir, that's me,” I
replied uneasily.

“At least this one has some
manners,” he said as he glanced at one of the other officers in the room. “You
and your roommate here have a regular ol' liquor store up in this apartment,
don't ya?”

My blood ran cold. “Um, uh, I…” I
stammered, not knowing what to say.

“I hope you're not going to try
tell me all this alcohol in here 'isn't yours' or that you're 'keeping it for a
friend' or some bullshit story like that. We hear that all the time, kid, so
don't waste our time. Now, I'm gonna ask you this once, and you're gonna tell
me the truth. Remember, it's a felony to lie to an officer of the law. Are you
twenty-one years of age or older?”

My mouth went dry; I could hardly
even talk to answer.

“Um…”

“Well, son? Are you or are you
not?”

“I'm not, sir.”

“Let me see your driver's
license.”

I pulled my wallet from my back
pocket, fumbled around in it with trembling fingers and pulled out my driver's
license, which I handed to the cop. He took it, looked it over and nodded as he
handed it back to me. Another man in uniform came out of the kitchen holding a
camera. He tapped on the side of the camera as he spoke.

“Alright, boys, I've got all the
evidence we need right here.”

Obviously, he'd just taken
pictures of our stash of beer and liquor. I felt like throwing up.

The cop who had spoken to me
before shook his head.

“You kids are in a lot of
trouble. A lot. We take this kind of thing serious. Real serious.”

“What? I haven’t even been here
for two days,” I muttered, looking at Chris in confusion.

“Well, you’re here now, son,” one
of the officers said.

My body felt numb. It was almost
as if I were watching it all happen to me from outside my body. Everything felt
completely surreal. “Uh…what's gonna happen to us?” I asked.

“You and your buddy Chris here are
gonna come down to the station with us. We're gonna charge you with possession
of alcohol, and if you know what's best for you, you'll do what we say without
protesting. Something tells me you'll cooperate with us. Won't you?”

I nodded. “Y-yes, sir.”

“Good. You seem like a respectful
young man, so we won't need to cuff you, right? You ain't gonna try nothing
stupid like running, are ya?”

“No, sir. We'll cooperate,” I
added

“That's what I like to hear.
Kowalksky, you and Jackson take the ladies down to the station and book 'em,
and I'll take these two down in my car.”

The officer with the camera
nodded. “Got it. See you at the station.”

A female officer led the crying Ciara
and two other girls out. The other officer scowled at Chris and myself.

“Alright,” he said to us, “come
with me.”

We walked downstairs behind him
in stunned silence as his partner followed behind us. Once we got into the back
of the police car, anger shot through me with a sudden fury. I glared at Chris
who looked away, unable to meet my stare.

“What the hell happened, Chris?!”
I said angrily.

“Your little lab partner next
door called the cops. That’s what happened.”

“You don’t know
who
called the cops, Chris.”

“Yeah. I do. I saw her roomie
leaving with an armful of books when Ciara and I were getting back from our
pizza run. That means your little friend was the only one home.”

“Well, why were you being so
loud? I’ve warned you and warned you,” I argued.

“We were just playing some music,
just having a little party, bro, just-”

“Just nothing! You idiot! What
the hell, man? What the hell?! I told you to stop doing that, I told you!”

“How was I supposed to know those
fucking bitches next door would call the cops?”

“Because I told you! Melissa even
warned us about it! Damn it, dude, I told you that shit!”

“Well, it's not my fault they're
a pair of lame, stuck-up, goody two-shoe types who can't stand having a good
time.”

In that moment, I wanted to punch
Chris square in the eye. It was only with the barest strands of restraint that
I managed to hold myself back from doing just that.

“You’re an idiot and it’s not
their
fault. It’s your fault. Shit,
can't you just take responsibility for something for once in your life?! Jesus,
Chris, I already told you someone was gonna call the cops if you didn't stop
partying! And, what do you go and do? Despite all the warnings, you keep on!”

“Whatever,” he mumbled. “Some
friend you are.”

“Me?! Dude, you just got me
busted for something I didn’t even do! Do you have any idea what’s going to
happen when my-” I paused mid-sentence and simply stopped. “Never mind.” I knew
if I kept on, I would say something really hurtful. What happened had happened
and being pissed about it couldn't change it. All that was left was to deal
with the consequences.

I glared back up at the door to
our apartment, then to the one next to it. Had it really been Brooke that had
called the cops? Maybe she had done it out of anger. Maybe she thought I'd been
deliberately ignoring her these past two days. She had no way of knowing my
phone had been lost. Maybe she thought I'd just slept with her and then dropped
her — probably confirming all the reasons she'd most likely told herself not to
drop those walls around her to begin with. I couldn’t imagine what kind of guy
she thought I was at the moment.

Anger flared up inside me again,
only not at Chris. How could she? She had no right to jump to her conclusions.
She could have just waited for me to get back, so I could have at least
explained to her about the situation with my phone. She had no right to judge
me like that! It wasn't fair and it was vindictive as hell. Especially when she
knew exactly what would happen when the cops came to my place and found so much
alcohol, or any alcohol for that matter.

I cradled my head in my hands.

Maybe, all this time, I had been
wrong about her.

Dead wrong.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE

Brooke

The last class of the day was
actually chemistry lab — the time I'd usually spend with Emerson. While I'd
been doing my best all day to avoid thinking about him, seeing as I'd had
absolutely no response whatsoever from him, it was impossible to not think
about him once the time rolled around that he would have normally been helping
me with practicals.
 

I couldn’t understand why he
still had not replied. Couldn't he have, at least, told me how his dad's
surgery had gone? Couldn't he have, at least, had the decency to acknowledge
receipt of my messages?

I shook my head, staring into the
lab as another set of lab partners finished up. It really did seem as if my
worst thoughts about him might be right. I was snapped out of my trance by a
familiar voice.

“Hey there, Brooke.”

“Oh, hi, Garrett,” I replied,
trying to put on a smile.

“How's everything? You doing
okay?” He grinned at me, looking chipper.

“Um, yeah, yeah. Everything’s
awesome.”

He looked at me, raising a
skeptical eyebrow. “Really? Are you sure about that? You don’t look like
everything’s awesome.”

“I've just, uh, I've just had a
tough day, that's all.”

“Aww. Well, that’s no good,” he
said with genuine sympathy. “What happened.”

For a moment, I considered
telling him about the whole situation with Emerson. Part of me really wanted to
talk about it with someone. However, I didn't know Garrett nearly well enough
to be spilling about such personal things with him. So, in response to his
question, I simply told a white lie.

“Oh, just a bunch of tests. You
know, plenty of work and not enough time to do it. Plus, I don't think I've
been getting enough sleep lately. So, I'm just feeling a bit run-down.”

“You’ve really gotta take care of
yourself, ya know? You're a special person, Brooke. I mean that. I don’t like
seeing down in the dumps. How about I take you for a smoothie? I know a great
organic joint about a mile from here. They make a killer energy boost smoothie,
packed with all sorts of healthy junk. It'll make you feel like a new person,
guaranteed.”

I was tempted to take him up on
the offer. A part of me thought it would be out of spite though, a way to get
back at Emerson for ignoring me. It was obvious by the tension between the two
that Emerson had a subtle dislike for Garrett. Maybe even jealousy.

However, I decided against it for
the time being, at least.

“Thanks for the offer, Garrett,
but I can't. I'm meeting up with some friends in a bit. But maybe another time,
though.”

He smiled, showing a mouthful of
perfectly white teeth. “No worries! Oh, hey, I saw you handing out flyers for
the charity film festival the other day.”

“Yeah. It's a RAG event we're
setting up.”

“Cool, cool. Listen, I wanna buy
some of those tickets. You have any on you?”

“Yes, I do, actually.”

“Great. I'll take two.”

“Right now?”

“Sure.”

I dug around in my bag and
retrieved two tickets.

“That'll be twenty bucks.”

He handed me two ten dollar
bills.

“Thanks,” I said. “Who are you
gonna go with?” I asked out of instinct.

“Oh, I dunno yet,” he replied
with a suggestive smile. “Maybe you know a cute brunette who might want to go,”
he added with a wink.

Right on time, my phone buzzed. I
looked down, hoping it was Emerson. It wasn’t. But it was the cavalry saving me
from having to respond to Garrett’s question.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX

Emerson

Sitting on a bench at the police
station waiting for my mom to bail me out was seriously one of the worst
experiences of my life. Even though they didn't handcuff us, it was hard not to
feel like a criminal when I was sitting next to actual criminals and waiting
for our charge sheets to be drawn up. To my left were haggard-looking,
drugged-up prostitutes. To my right, a pair of drug dealers with cut and
bleeding swollen faces who — according to the story I’d overheard from the cops
who brought them in — had been fighting in the streets over who was encroaching
on whose turf. It was pretty awful. All I could do was sit with my head in my
hands and pray it would all be over soon.

Mixed in with all the thoughts
and emotions racing through my mind was one dominant emotion. Anger. Anger at
Chris, firstly, for being such a selfish idiot and continuing to party and piss
the neighbors off after I'd explicitly told him just how much trouble we could
get in because of it. But I was also angry at Brooke for actually calling the
cops when she knew how much trouble we would get in if they showed up at our
place and found the alcohol.

I knew it might not seem right,
but it was almost more understandable to forgive Chris even though it had been
his fault. After all, he wasn't the sharpest crayon on the box and the streak
of recklessness and impulsive behavior that ran so strongly through his
character made him susceptible to acts of stupidity.

Brooke, though…she wasn't like
Chris at all. She was smart — incredibly smart. And compassionate. At least, I
had thought she was, up until I was shoved into the back of a police cruiser
and read my rights. How could a person who seemed to be so compassionate do
something so spiteful, so calculated? Something she knew would have devastating
consequences for Chris and me? Especially for me after what had happened
between us.

I suddenly had to wonder if
everything I thought I knew about Brooke was simply dead wrong.

My blood began to boil just
thinking about it all again, but my rage was quelled by the sight of a familiar
figure walking into the room. When I saw her, my heart sank.

“Emerson.”

Her tone was ice cold.

“Hi, Mom,” I murmured, unable to
look her in the eye.

She didn't reply. Instead, she
walked straight up to the desk and spoke to the sergeant on duty. After she
signed several documents and spoke to two different officers, she turned her
attention back to me with a cold fury simmering in her eyes.

“Come,” was all she said.

I looked up at the sergeant, who
nodded his head. It was clear he felt sorry for me.

“You're free to go now, kid. So
go on, get the hell outta here.”

I nodded and stood, thankful to
be leaving. Chris had already left, having been picked up by his parents ten
minutes earlier.

I followed my mother as she
walked out of the station and into the parking lot. She kept walking all the
way to the last parking space in silence. When we reached her Range Rover, she
opened the doors without a word. I climbed into the passenger seat, and shut
the door. That’s when she finally erupted.

“Emerson Michael Reed,” she said,
her voice sharp and even-toned. “What in the hell did you think you were
doing?”

I’d have preferred she yelled at
me. It wouldn’t have been as scary.

“Mom, it's not as bad as-”

“You’re right. It's way worse
than that! Way worse!”

“Mom, I wasn’t-”

“Just stop, Emerson. I'm Dean of
Faculty! Do you understand what kind of position this is going to put me in? Do
you? My son,
the dean’s
underage son,
caught with a ridiculous amount of alcohol in his apartment! Do you realize how
negatively this is going to reflect on me? Not to mention that this can go on
your permanent record, Emerson.”

I hung my head in shame. “I’m
sorry, Mom. I didn't think about that.”

“It seems like you haven't been
doing much thinking, at all. Now, I warned you last semester, Emerson, I warned
you when your grades came out so disappointingly, that I would not tolerate
another slip up. And what did you go and do? This. This.”

“Mom, I wasn’t even there. I’ve
been at Dad’s for two days. Plus, I've been doing way better this semester,
I've been working hard. I haven’t been skipping out on any classes, and-”

“I don’t even want to hear it.
Can’t change anything at one o’clock in the morning. You're staying at my place
tonight, and I have half a mind to make you move out of that apartment and back
in with me where I can keep a proper eye on you. Maybe prevent something like
this from happening again. The only thing I want to hear from you now is 'I'm
sorry, and this will never, ever happen again'.”

“Mom, please-”

“Ehhh,” she held a hand up. “Did
you not hear me?”

I breathed in deeply and shook my
head before speaking. “I'm sorry, Mom. This will never, ever happen again.”

We drove the rest of the way to
Mom’s house in uncomfortable silence. There was no way to gauge how much anger
was stewing beside me and I knew the best thing to do was not to even try.

By the time we arrived, some of
her wrath had dissipated.

“I guess you haven't had anything
to eat for a while huh?” she said.

“Nope. Pretty much as soon as I
got off my bike after coming back from dad's place, I walked in and got
arrested. I'm starving.”

“I'll fix you some sandwiches,
then. By the way, how’s your dad doing?” she asked.

“Pretty good, considering. Doctor
says he’ll be back to normal in about six weeks.”

“Good. Glad he’s gonna be okay.
Now go on to your room. I’ll fix you something to eat.”

“Thanks, Mom. And, I’m sorry.”

I trudged off to my old room, which
was exactly as it had been when I had lived there a couple of years before —
the sports posters, team flags, and trophies of my childhood and teenage years
were all still there. In one corner, my electric guitar and amplifier sat. I
hadn't touched them in quite a while. For a period in my teenage years, I'd
become quite the proficient guitarist, but after I'd graduated from high school,
I'd kind of given up on it.

I sat down in my old easy chair,
turned on the amp, and picked up the guitar. It was like being in the presence
of an old friend I’d known for years, but hadn't seen in ages. It was
comforting.

I immediately felt better after
strumming a few chords and wondered why I hadn't played for so long. After I
had played a few songs, I realized just how much I’d missed playing music. When
Mom brought in a plate of sandwiches, it was kind of hard to not feel like a
kid again in a really big way.

“Wash up the plate when you're
done,” she said. “I've gotta get some sleep. It's been a stressful evening.”

“Thanks again, Mom.”

“Goodnight, Emerson. I love you.”

“Night, Mom. Love you, too.”

I ate the sandwiches in three
minutes flat. They tasted as good as I remembered them being back in the day.
In some ways, it wasn't so bad to be back home. The feeling, however, didn't
last long once the thoughts of the arrest and what Brooke had done came
flooding back. I got undressed and climbed into my old bed, falling into a
restless sleep.

***

Chris was sitting in front of the
TV with a blank look on his face when I walked into the apartment the next day.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.”

I admit, it felt pretty awkward.

“I'm just coming to pick up some
clothes,” I said. “As I’m sure you can imagine, Mom was pretty pissed. She’s
insisting I stay at her place for the rest of the week while she, uh, while she
tries to sort this situation out.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” I replied.

I headed to my room and packed a
few things into my backpack. I left it there, and went into the kitchen to grab
a snack. It was weird seeing the refrigerator empty of alcohol. Usually it was
packed full of beer and the closets were full of bottles of liquor. But all of
that was gone, confiscated by the local P.D. I sighed, shook my head, grabbed a
snack, and then headed back into the living room and sat down with Chris.

“It was your friend, Brooke, who
did this, ya know,” he said flatly. “I'm sure of it.”

“Yeah. You said that last night,
but what makes you so sure?”

“My room is next to hers.”

“How do you know that?”

“I can sometimes hear her through
the wall, talking on Skype to whoever. It's a little muffled, but I can tell
it's her voice, not her roommate Leslie's.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, Emerson. So, if I can hear
her through the wall, she can totally hear me. And you know how…noisy things
can get in my room sometimes.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I know.
Trust me.”

“Well, anyway. So, yeah, I'm
totally sure it must have been that bitch who called the cops. It had to have
been.”

Part of me wanted to punch him
for calling her any kind of name — actually, a very big part of me wanted to. I
wanted to defend her. It wasn't
her
fault Chris had been a noisy, inconsiderate ass. I knew how seriously Brooke
took her studies, and if it was true the wall between her room and Chris' was
so thin, well… I could understand just how much she must have been putting up
with since she’d moved into the apartment next door. I could understand why she
would have felt frustrated, even angry.

But another part of me agreed
with Chris. She knew how severe the consequences would be for us if the cops
showed up, and she called them anyway. Couldn't she have just come over and
asked Chris to turn it down like she had before?

“Yeah,” I said. “It was a shitty
thing to do. But let’s not call her names, okay?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Well, I
hope you're never gonna speak to that…
her
again after what she's done to us,” he said sourly. “Seriously, bro. If she were
a guy, I would have kicked her damn teeth in by now. She's damn lucky she's a
chick or I would have gone seriously medieval on her ass.”

There wasn't much I could say in
response, so I let it go.

“Wanna go out and get a beer?”
Chris asked.

I couldn't help but laugh. “After
all the shit that's just happened, dude?”

He flashed a cheeky grin at me.
“Totally, brah.”

I shrugged. “Whatever, screw it.
Let's go.”

***

“One more Jägermeister shot!”
Chris slurred next to me. “C-c-come on dude, just one m-m-more!”

I raised my hand above my head
and cheered.

“Hell yeah! One m-more!”

The bartender brought us two
shots of Jägermeister, which we knocked back immediately. I felt bile rising in
the back of my throat and my vision was definitely starting to swim. One more
drink would have pushed me over the edge. As it was, I'd already have to sneak
in to my mom’s house and get to my room without her seeing me. If she’d known
I'd gone out and gotten drunk… Well, I didn't even want to imagine what sort of
consequences I'd have to deal with.

I was about to stand up to leave
when I felt a hand on my shoulder — a soft, feminine hand. I turned around.
“Melissa.”

“Hi, Emerson. Long time no see!”

“Uh, yeah, it's been a while. How
have you been?” I slurred.

She smiled flirtatiously. “Oh,
I've been good. But I can't deny I've been missing a certain someone.”

“Oh yeah, is that right?”

“It is.” She ran her fingers
along my forearm. “You're looking especially yummy, Emerson. Been hitting the
gym more than usual?”

I laughed, probably a little too
awkwardly. “No.”

She stared into my eyes, still
smiling with her perfect, white teeth and full lips.

“Well, like I said, you're
looking extremely sexy.”

Her fingers were still tracing
invisible patterns across my skin. She started to move in closer to me.

“You know,” she continued, “my
roommates are away on a trip tonight. I'm all alone at my place, and I'm
feeling so lonely and bored. Why don't you come over and have a few more drinks
with me? I've got some tequila just begging to be drunk.”

I almost said yes. Almost. But,
as angry as I was at Brooke, part of me still believed she was the person I'd
fallen for, and that, somehow, the thing with the cops all had to be some giant
mistake. Besides, after being with Brooke, Melissa didn’t get my blood pumping
even a little bit.

I gently removed Melissa's
fingers from my arm and set her hand down on the bar.

“Sorry, Melissa, I've already had
too much to drink tonight. I'm actually feeling kinda s-sick. Seriously. If I
even smell another beer, I'm gonna throw up.”

“Well, we don't have to drink,
Emerson, we can go back and do…other things.”