Alcohol You Later (41)

My thoughts drift to Raven, who’s never cared about the money or fame. She cares about me. And where am I? Out getting drunk and making shit worse, because I’m a fuck up and that’s what I do.

“Why?” My tone is hard. Accusing. “Because I’m famous? Because I have money?”

“Duh.” She furls her lip. “Listen, I’m not trying to be rude, but you have to know that any woman you date is in it for the whole package.”

“It’s not a bad thing.” Her friend jumps in trying to smooth things over. “I mean, you need someone willing to put up with all of this, right?” She motions to herself and her friend.

I’m suddenly nauseous and ready to leave.

“Nicholas.” I hear my name dipped in honey from behind my back.

“Heather!” I wrap an arm around the waitress who waited on me at the Mardi Gras place. “Sooo good to see you.”

“It’s Helen,” she whispers into my ear.

“I knew that.” I can hear my words slurring together.

“Sure ya did.” She smooths a hand over my back. “I see you found some friends?”

“They were just l—leaving.”

The Goth girls’ mouths fall open as I shoo them away. “We weren’t—“

“Was so nice to meet you both.”

Helen, not Heather, busts out with a deep belly laugh when they scamper off, scowling and whispering all the way to the other end of the bar.

“Thought you were trying to avoid the news.” One look at her tells me she’s figured out who I am. “You know those two are gonna run to the tabloids.”

“How’d you know?”

“Who you are?”

I nod.

“Google. You were too paranoid to be nobody.”

I nod. “You follow me here?”

“Nah.” She waves the bartender away when he comes back to offer us service. “Was over there with a few friends and could see those girls bugging you. Thought you might need some rescuing.”

“Thank you for saving me.”

She nods. “Why don’t you let me take you back home before this place is swarmed with paparazzi?”

“Thattt’s prolly smart.”

I call the server over and hand him a wad of bills that’s more than enough to cover my tab. “Lead the way.”

“Oh!” She reaches for my arm when I lose footing getting down from the stool that’s now imprinted on my ass. “Here,” she says, offering me her arm. “Let me help you.”

“Yer an angel, Haily.”

“Helen.”

“Th—that’s what I said…”





It’s almost two in the morning, and I’m wide awake curled in the fetal position on the couch, watching every excruciating second tick by on the clock above the sink.

The kids have been asleep for hours and Nicholas has been MIA for far longer than that.

With Korie’s encouragement, I’ve refrained from calling or texting. She says I’m being strong. But to be honest, I feel the exact opposite. I’ve never felt more weak, more helpless, or more alone. His absence is a gaping hole in the pit of my stomach. Empty. Hollow. And hungry.

Relief pours over me when I hear his voice approaching outside.

I sit up, eyes fixed on the door, willing him to walk in. Willing myself not to burst into tears at the sight of him.

“Can I see your room?” a distinctly female voice begs as he clambers onto the bus with a chick hanging on his neck.

Nick’s drunk. He can hardly keep himself upright, his body teetering side to side like a tree bending with the wind as she helps him navigate the steps.

And I’m frozen, paralyzed by the sound of her kissing and sucking on his neck as it resonates through the quiet space. A stabbing pain originating in the center of my chest shoots through every cell of my being. It’s one thing to know he’s with other girls. That hurts. But to witness it—to see it with my own eyes—this is a whole other level of devastation.

They don’t notice me sitting here in the dark. They can’t hear the sound of my heart shattering, or see the betrayal that’s burning in my veins. But they’re damn sure about to feel my wrath.

Blinded by rage, I spring to my feet. Her shirt is fisted in my hand before I even realize that I’ve decided to go after the bitch. “No,” I grit through clenched teeth. “You can’t see his room.”

“What the—Nick!” Her scream pierces the night when I shove her through the doors.

I stand stalk still, seething, my heart racing as she scoots further away—an incredulous look on her face.

Nick stumbles out after us, sobering fast. “You sh—should prolly leave, Harly.”

“Yeah,” she says, dusting the dirt from her ass while glowering at me. “I can see why you ran off.” She walks backward until she’s a safe distance away and yells back, “That bitch is crazy,” before scrambling into her car and speeding off.

I stare after her for a moment in stunned disbelief.

He went there. He really fucking went there.

“I can’t believe you were about to bring that bitch onto this bus where your children sleep!” I advance on Nicholas, backing him up against the side of the bus while stabbing a finger into his chest.