Neon Darkness

Chapter 2

I glance around the bar, it's filled up since I bothered to look last. At least Brendon and Malcolm are still here, the wannabe cowboys have toned down on the sales pitch and they're all just sitting there drinking. I catch Malcolm's eye and salute him with my fairly large shot of vodka. The grin I get in return sets small fires in my stomach, but then that might just be the amounts of vodka I've consumed tonight. Down the hatch!
"It's a good kind of burning." I whisper to myself as another kind of tears threaten to spill down my face. I gingerly place the glass on the bar. That was a lot more vodka than I thought. The bartender is busy at the other end and I want to go home, right now. I'm not waiting for him to finish and call me a taxi. It's not that far. I'll walk.

My umbrella seems slightly out of reach and the floor is rather far away. At least I'm wearing sandals, heels would have been the death of me. Sluggish thoughts swim through my brain as I try to figure out how to get off this barstool and grab my umbrella, without falling flat on my face and looking more of an idiot than I'm sure I already am. Something shiny on the floor next to my umbrella has me pausing. Did I lose an earring? Am I even wearing earrings tonight?

Stinky cologne wafts close again and a hand forcefully grabs my arm. I straighten, the world spins. I grind my teeth and growl. "For fuck's sake Harlan. Fuck off and fuckingleavemealone!" I try to shake him off, but he only tightens his grip. "Ouch! Let. Me. Go. Mother. Fucker!"
"Is there a problem here?" Malcolm stands close to my other side, ignoring Harlan and only looking at me. His face is a bit blurred, but I can tell he looks somewhat pissed off.
"No, Harlan was just about to fuck off." Giving my arm an extra squeeze Harlan mutters something and walks away. My eyes follow him out the door before I turn to Malcolm. "Thank you for that. Guy can't take a hint... or someone telling him straight." I wobble even though I'm sitting down. Seems like all that vodka has decided to throw a party after all.

Malcolm grabs my elbow, but only to steady me. The palm of his hand warms my skin. "Are you going to be alright getting home?"
"Pfff. Yeah. It's not that far. I'll be fiiiine." I manage to glide off the barstool and try to grab my umbrella. The world is kind of tilted. I squint my eyes to try to make sense of it all. Finally my fingers grab the handle.
Malcolm sighs and has me leaning on the bar. "Wait here."
"What?" He motions for me to stay put and goes over to talk to his friend. I lose interest in him. My hand grabs a tighter hold of my umbrella and I make to leave. Something shiny slides along the floor as my umbrella slips under my death grip. I try to measure the distance to the floor. Maybe I'm not drunk enough to faceplant if I try to grab the shiny?
I try my theory.

The head-rush is spectacular, but I don't fall over, so that's good. Slowly I reach for what I now see is a miniature disc in a clear plastic shell. It fits in the palm of my hand. Before my brain has sent a signal to my body to stand up straight, Malcolm is back at my side.
With a sigh he grabs my arm and pulls me up. "Alright. I'm gonna make sure you get home safe." There's a grim smile on his face. "That you get home at all." I'd like to protest, but everything's all spinny and fuzzy, so I let it slide. My hand slips the small disc into my purse and I let him lead me towards the door.

Outside Malcolm lifts his arm to hail a taxi.
"No, I want to walk."
"You sure you're up for it?"
"Oh please, I've walked home before, much more drunkier than this." He gives a amused snort and makes a gesture as for me to lead the way. I veer slightly to the right and Malcolm quickly grabs my shoulder and prevents me from tumbling out onto the street. "Oh, shit."
"Just hold on to me and tell me where we're going." He presents his arm and I intertwine mine with his.

It's nice having someone walk me home. He smells really nice too, as in not much at all. I tell him. He laughs. "You smell nice too."
"That's good, I thought maybe the vodka would have cancelled my perfume out."
"No, no." He sniffs my hair. "No, still fresh as a daisy." I let out a disbelieving Ha! and stumble over nothing. Malcolm stabilizes me. "Woah there!"
"I must be more drunky than I thought. I'm sorry."
Malcolm chuckles and moves his arm around my back, pulling me flush against him. "You just need a little more support. It's not too far, is it?"
"Just like five blocks. I live just by the small plaza over on Greene Street."
"Right." Malcolm tightens his grip as if he thinks I might not make the trip home. It's clear he doesn't know me. Actually, I don't know him. Shit. But he smells nice. And from what I feel through our clothes, he seems fit. But he's not Nikola. Those damnable tears threaten to fall again. I bite my lip and focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

He keeps asking me where to next. I'm guessing it's because he can tell that my fuzzy brain wants to shut down. Halfway home I feel the fuzziness beginning to disappear, being replaced by tiredness. My walking becomes more steady, but I've snuck my arm around his back, not wanting him to let me go. The night is chilly and my dress is thin. And Malcolm is warm. And he seems nice. And why didn't Nikola show up tonight? I bite down harder on the inside of my lip to keep the tears at bay. No. I will not cry. I will not. I'll be home soon anyway.

"This is me!" I make a sweeping gesture at my building.
"Huh." Malcolm doesn't seem very impressed. I untangle myself from him and search my bag for my keys and shove the entrance open with my hip. It has me nearly falling into the dark stairwell.
Malcolm's hand shoots out and grabs me by the elbow. "Want me to help you with that?" He doesn't wait for my answer, but grabs my bag and swiftly finds my keys. "Which apartment?"
"Up, up, up the stairs and to the roof!" He looks slightly exasperated at my giggling explanation.
"I'm guessing there's no elevator... or that the lights are working"
I can't stop giggling. "It's only four flights. Surely you're fit enough to climb that!" I look up the stairs. My giggles stop. "Ugh. It's dark. And I'm tired." Shaking my head I start the ascent.

Malcolm is right behind me the whole way. I freak out for about one hundredth of a second when I can't find my bag.
"I've got you." Malcolm, who's not even out of breath even a little bit, gently pushes me to the side. "This looks like a sturdy door."
I roll my eyes. ""Yeah. Well. It's like steel and most thugs can't be bothered going all the way up." And I got my place cheap, because it was mostly just one big room when I bought it. The door finally opens and I flip the light switch.

Three large lamps bathe my home in a soft yellow glow. The whole apartment is an open space with clearly separated areas. The kitchen is to the right, with a breakfast counter separating it from a lounge area with a dark grey couch and a black coffee table. Past that is my office, a large desk with my equipment and materials, the walls covered with character sketches and backgrounds. Opposite that is my bedroom. A large futon style bed and an antique vanity table with a large oval mirror. To the immediate left of the door, glass bricks make up the walls around the small bathroom.

"This." Malcolm lets the door shut behind him. "This is nice."
"Yeah." I drop my umbrella to the floor and do my best to remove my sandals, gravity and alcohol doing their darndest to make it near impossible. Finally I manage to free myself from them. "Bolt the door, will you?"
"Eh. I don't plan on staying." I swivel around, failing to strike a pose and end up having to grab onto the breakfast bar.
"And what if Locke tries to break in? He was in like super creep mode tonight."
Malcolm raises an eyebrow at me. "I doubt he'll go that far."
"Yeah. But I don't want to be alone." His eyebrows are soon hidden behind the black curls flopping down on his forehead. "Like come on. I'm not offering myself to you. Dude. You could crash here. I'd feel a lot better about it all if I knew you didn't have to go all the way home at this late hour." I squint at the clock on my wall. 1AM. "Kinda late hour."

"I really... I mean... " He rubs the back of his neck. With a sigh I grab his hand and drag him towards my bed. "Hey, eh, Jennelle."
"Seriously. Just get undressed already." Before he gets another word out I've pulled his t-shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor next to out feet. My mind registers the hard plains of his chest, but I'm too drunk to do more than take note.
"You can't just..." His words get lost as I pull my dress over my head. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know I should be concerned that I'm undressing in front of an almost stranger.
"Jennelle. This isn't right. I'll stay the night, but I'll crash on your couch." I'm under the covers already.
"Could you please stay here with me, until I've fallen asleep?"

I'm feeling myself sobering up, and with that the fear of what could have happened slams me with full force. Hot tears burn my eyes and I feel a sob building. I can't fight it and it wracks my body, making me feel exposed and vulnerable. I feel the bed shifting as he lays down on top of the covers and his arms come around me, drawing me to his chest. He doesn't say a word. There's nothing he can say. Later, as I'm drifting off to sleep, I feel him shifting and untangling himself from me. If the tiredness wasn't so heavy I'd tell him to stay.