Lose Control (The Jewel Project #5)

12.2|| It Gets Worse

Tom enjoyed the familiarity of the club. It was a place he'd decided was best after a few months of scouring the nightlife Chicago. The music was good, the prices of the liquor decent, and it attracted a young, energetic crowd they could easily get lost in.

Everyone agreed it was a good choice, so for the past two years, this was their escape when they wanted to just dance their problems away. He and Harry were regulars, with Angie tagging along most nights. Sam and Christine joined them often, with Jessie and Jimmy coming along when they were in town. Even Kyle and Kay sometimes made an appearance when they weren't burnt out from work and they felt like dancing.

Now, the music was fine, the liquor was still affordable, yet there was no more Harry. No more Angie. Because that had gone to hell with the speed of light.

As much as he tried to focus on Sam and what the betrayal meant to him, Tom couldn't help but wallow in his own pool of self pity. He'd liked Harry, they'd partied together so many times. The fact that Harry was basically a manwhore never bothered Tom because that was who Harry was. There had never been any judging going on between them.

Now there was, because Tom was judging Harry a lot. But not more than Angie.

The papers had totaled him. As much as he put up a brave front around Jerry, the news had crushed on top of him like a title wave, drowning him. Because, just like Sam, he'd always been painfully aware that everyone would realize, sooner or later, that all their heroics were only a result of attacks that were their fault in the first place. He'd been bracing himself for years, but it still came out of nowhere and at the worst possible time.

The only thing he was grateful for was that the girls were left out of this. They didn't need the pressure. They were being hunted down enough anyway just so people could make sure they hadn't put on weight or that their clothes were fashionable enough.

It was hard enough for them to pretend to be normal. Now it would be impossible. School was going to be horrid. Everyone already thought he was buying his grades or faming his way into them. They whispered at corners because they knew he could kick their ass and get away with it. He was sure things had just changed dramatically.

And it hurt. It hurt to always have to prove himself every step of the way. It hurt that people always eventually walked away. Just like Angie had. Because whatever he did, he was never good enough to keep. Hold for a while, sure. But something better always came along and he'd just be thrown away like an old toy.

Alcohol didn't make things better. It made him grumpy and paranoid, not that he wasn't already. But with vodka swirling around his head, it was wavier and somehow easier to stand.

"You sure you don't want to lighten that with some cranberry juice or something?" the bartender, a curvy blonde with a pixie cut, asked.

"Nah, I'm good. Though I should maybe switch it for some tequila?"

She eyed him wearily, though he could tell there was some excitement hidden there as well. "Mixing drinks is never a good idea."

"I'm not sure you understood from my gazillion shots of vodka." He waved the empty glass at her. "I'm planning on cleaning your floor with my shirt. So switch it up."

"Okay, but tequila makes you barf." She grinned at him and served him the amber drink with a trail of salt and a slice of lemon.

"I shall not barf, I swear on my honor." He downed the drink and ate up the lemon. "This is better."

She leaned over the bar, towards him, bringing her cleavage into full view. "Look, I don't know what happened to you. You're usually very happy when you're in here and get fun buzzed. But if whatever happened can be solved by making bad choices..." She grabbed his hand and dug a sharpie into it, scribbling her number. "I'm game."