"We have a plan to record another album but this doesn't start until June next year. So, as far as I know, we have this time to just take it easy for a while." Joseph said, reaching out for his jacket beside him and paying for his drinks.
A couple of hours had passed, discussing the period of when and how the gigs would take place in Lockley's.
"Eight weeks then. I can count on you and your band?"
"Deem straight! And don't worry about paying us. I am sure guys don't mind doing me this favor." Joseph slipped a hundred dollar bill under his glass.
Marcus leaned on the bar, took the glass and pushed the money back toward him.
"On the house!" He told him, before he got interrupted by a client.
"A glass of white wine, please!" A young girl with long brown hair and beautiful eyes sat on the bar stool beside Joseph.
"Coming right up."
Joseph turned, having trouble getting a good look at the girl. She was focused on Marcus opening the wine bottle and pour her drink. Already a little bit tipsy, the wild womanizer side of him made an appearance. He walked around her and took a seat next to her.
"Alone in the pub in this hour? Looking for some company?" He asked, his voice getting low and husky.
"No, thank you!" She replied, readjusting herself, folding the hems of her sweater snugly against her chest.
"That's new. Alright. I get it. You don't find me worth a risk? Or have I somehow given some kind of a displeasing vibe?"
"No, I don't."
Marcus smirked at his friend's idiotic yet simple approach to a girl.
"Leave it, Hewitt! Don't scare the girl."
"Fine."
It had been a while since he had sex. On the tour, he had avoided the one night stands, since the press loved to pick up any crazy news about the guys dragging innocent girls to their beds. Of course, most of the band members were married with kids, it didn't matter to the paparazzi to release some made up stories to the world.
So, he avoided any woman he met. But considering his troubled past and stress level, a good fuck was something that got him to relax and release the tension. A little bit tipsy, and he'd pick a woman for this basically randomly. People knew very well who the fuck he was: the enormously talented vocalist for the band Hewitt. The only single member who girls liked to get fucked by.
It was insanity. He was treated like a God, inhuman. Guys looked up to him, girls wanted to surrender to him. The excitement he got while getting all this attention, it was intoxicating yet completely utterly stupid. He enjoyed it, there was no denying of it.
"I'll see you and the band here on the 22th. Don't forget!" Marcus handed Joseph his jacket, practicing shoving him out the door.
"I could never!"
It had started to rain. When he opened the door and stepped out to the curb, rain hit him heavy, instantly soaking him to the bone. Quickly, he draped the jacket over his shoulders and started running toward his apartment.
It was a good thing to live only two blocks from the pub. Whenever he was out and having some time off, he could just walk home.
***
It was six minutes past eleven in the evening and she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, soaking a cloth. Blood dripped into the sink, as she pressed the excess liquid out of the cotton fabric and folded it before pressing it to her side.
Her knuckles brushed against the area above her right hip and she whimpered. Cold water dripped down on the bathroom floor. When the compress didn't have a cooling effect on her bruised skin anymore, she soaked it in water again.
She watched the water in the sink turn into a pinkish color, when it got mixed with her blood.
Just another Saturday night- she thought, squeezing her eyes shot when a vibrating pain shot through her.
Mark was downstairs, drunk. The banging of the doors, yelling and cursing drove her to stay silent in the bathroom. Her eyes were filled with tears, salty reminders of how that night had again broken her.
Leila threw the cloth into the bathtub and filled the tub. She set the water down to a mildly colder temperature, avoiding to burn her aching body. One foot at the time, she stepped into the tub, lowering her body into the chilling water. If there was anything she hoped at that moment, it was to avoid the bruises to heal slow.
Even though she didn't need to go to work, meet people or friends, the wish to get out from the hell she was living in - was desired by her more than anything.
Leila grabbed a towel from the rack behind her and folded it into a soft support for her head. While she sunk deeper into the water, she heard the bathroom door open.
"I'm going out. Lock the door behind me. I won't be back before Monday morning." Mark slurred the words, drunk as fuck.
She didn't open her eyes.
"Ok," she replied, swallowing hard.
She heard him huff out a mean laugh, then felt something dropping into the bath water.
"Wash your hair," he commanded.
"I will." She let the shampoo sink into the bottom, lay beside her thigh.
"And don't you dare leave this house. I won't be so gentle next time if you do."
"I won't."
If there was any hope to leave the house anytime soon, this was it. She knew Mark had made plans with his friends, flying to Vegas for the weekend. Since she didn't knew any of the neighbors and hoped that they wouldn't tell Mark about her leaving the place, she could finally hit the pub for one drink. She needed air, another surrounding and people, even if she didn't talk with them.
She needed something other than being alone with her thoughts.
