The Dealers

Chapter 3 - Lena

Once I was safely in the privacy of my own car and miles down the road from the club, I let the tears pour down my face. I barely made it but, I refused to let anyone see me cry. It felt incredible to let it all go after forcing myself to keep my composure.
Wiping my face on the sleeve of my jacket as I tried to focus on the road ahead, I was feeling so many different emotions. I was angry for not being able to take care of myself. I didn't need anyone to swoop in and save the day but I couldn't admit to myself what might have happened if Noah hadn't been there.
Noah.
I finally knew his name.
I was so stupid. I knew that Owen was drunk. I knew that he was being a bigger asshole than usual and I knew that I should have taken Jacob up on his offer to walk me to my car. I was mad at myself for not being able to fend him off on my own. How could I take care of myself if I couldn't even truly defend myself against someone like Owen?
Slowing down the truck to take the sharp turn off the main road and down the dirt lane to my small rental, I tried steady the adrenaline that was still pumping through my body. I was home and I was alone. I could be myself and let myself feel everything. That was the only way to move past it.
Turning off the truck as I parked in front of the small, single story home with chipped grey paint, I got out and rushed inside. Still on edge, I fumbled with the key in the front door and panic welled up in the pit of my stomach until I was safely inside with the door locked behind me.
I flipped on every light switch near me and every lamp. As much as I usually enjoyed the dark, being alone in the darkness was not something I wanted right now.
Moving through my sparse living room, I entered the bedroom and turned those lights on, too. Ignoring the messy room I left this afternoon on my way to work, I went into the adjacent bathroom and turned the water on the hottest it could go. Plugging the basin, I let the water fill up.
Scooping up a set fresh set of clothes on my way back through the bedroom, I made a pit stop in my cramped kitchen. Fetching the unopened bottle of whisky, I brought it back to the bathroom with me. By then, the room had filled with steam and the tub was nearly full.
Turning off the faucet, I slipped out of my work clothes and set the liquor bottle onto the edge of the tub. Trying to evade my reflection in the nearby mirror, it was too late. I saw myself standing there, naked and bruised—embarrassed and ashamed. I wanted desperately to look away but I couldn't.
I never considered myself as attractive. I was tall but more curvy then I would have liked. Often, I wished my hair was straighter or my eyes a different shade other than boring brown. If I could change things about myself, I would. But I couldn't and so I settled on the the girl standing in front of me.
Reluctantly, my eyes scanned down to my wrist where I saw the darkening bruises where Owen marked me. It angered me and it reminded me that I didn't have it all figured out. I always thought that I didn't need anyone because I could take care of myself but what happened today only made me see how vulnerable I actually was.
Pushing those thoughts from my mind, I abandoned the self loathing and climbed into the hot water. For a split second, I let my body take in the overwhelming sensation as the heat spread over my skin. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back against the porcelain tub.
After I let myself sink into the water for some time, I opened my eyes again and let the world flood back in. Everything that happened earlier came rushing in, vivid and vicious as I failed to shield myself from the flashbacks. I was forced to replay the whole night back in my head.
Grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the edge of the tub, I broke the seal and wedged the cap off with my teeth. I spit the cap onto the tile floor and took a swig. The first sip was the sharpest but I welcomed the distraction that the burn provided.
Before I knew it, the swigs of whiskey stopped burning my throat as the sensation melted into a numbness. That's when the images of what happened began to blur into the background.
With half the bottle gone then, I let myself step away from the guilt for a moment and reach for a different emotion—one that I couldn't place. This feeling didn't have a name but, it had a face— beautiful, chiseled face that was burned into my memory.
Noah.
Who was he? Something told me that he wasn't whom I expected him to be. There was something so mysterious about him but more than that, there was something magnetic about him. I wasn't sure how or why he was there when I needed him but he was. For whatever reason—and in an oddly comforting way—he was there for me.
By then, I was more than drunk and the bath water was getting cold. Resting my cheek against the tub, I dangled the half empty bottle of whiskey over the floor as it made a clacking sound with each tap. I didn't have the energy to get out of the tub but I couldn't very well pass out there, either.
Or, could I?
Pulling myself back from those self-harming thoughts, I sighed but finished taking a bath before stumbling out of the tub and into my plaid pajamas. Struggling to make it to bed, I teetered the whiskey on the edge of the bedside table and barely got myself onto the queen sized mattress.
I regretted drinking so much as my stomach began to churn and a wave of nausea ran over me like a truck. The room started spinning and even laying flat on my belly, I felt as if I were going to topple over. I closed my eyes to steady the room but it only made me feel worse.
Eventually, I gave up on trying to feel better and let myself sink into the sick feeling overwhelming me. My body felt like lead—heavy and weighed down as I melted into the bed. At least then, despite how terrible I felt, I wasn't obsessing about other things. I decided it was a blessing and I focused solely on feeling physically ill. It was better than the hurt I felt emotionally and mentally, too.
I blinked against the soft bed cover, staring blankly at the wood of the closet doors across the room. After a few minutes, my blinking slowed and my eyelids grew heavy. Eventually, they remained closed as I fell into a deep, drunken sleep.
The downside of using alcohol to numb my pain and put me to sleep was that I had vivid, wonky dreams. It never failed. Every time I'd ever been completely trashed, I recalled having the oddest dreams.
This instance was no different. My drunken dreams played out like a movie reel for what felt like eternity. The usual suspects made an appearance of course because my subconscious was clearly unsettled—all things considered. Owen was there but he was bigger and scarier than he was in real life. Jacob was also in my dream, going toe to toe with Noah just like they really did in the parking lot.
None of my dream actually made sense. It was a jumbled up mix of random people and places. Haley, the cocktail waitress from work even made a cameo in one of the scenes. At first, I was at the club, then the parking lot and the a bizarre place that was a mix of both. Noah didn't speak at all in my dream. He just stood there with a devilish grin.
Even in my dream, I could feel myself desperately trying to erase Owen from memory. I didn't want to remember his face or the way his hand held pressure on my wrist. I didn't want to recall the way he reeked of booze and slurred his words. But, of course those memories flooded in, too.
But, with the bad came some of the good.
Noah.
The tail end of my dream was the weirdest part of all because as I began to stir, the reality of morning bled into the scenarios that played in my sleep. Noah's face was the last thing I saw as the early morning light creeped into my bedroom and woke me slowly.
I stirred, letting the tenderness of my hangover pour over me. Once I began to wake, there was nothing I could do about the massive headache and nausea that attacked me along with the sting of the sun.
Pulling a nearby pillow over my face, I couldn't force myself back to sleep. I needed copious amounts of water, Tylenol and maybe a wastebasket in case all of that whiskey decided to come back up.
How could I do this to myself? If only I had better coping skills. I felt like a semi truck had just run me over multiple times.
Peeling myself out of bed, I practically crawled to the bathroom where I spent a good thirty minutes resting on the floor against the wall nearest the toilet. Eventually, the room had to stop spinning long enough for me to get that Tylenol I needed so badly.
After what felt like forever, I felt that it was safe enough to stand and at least brush my teeth. I grabbed Tylenol from the bathroom cabinet and took a sip of water from the faucet. Even water went down rough.
Returning to the safety of my bed, I groaned as I fell back into the sheets. Looking up at the clock beside the bed, it was already well after nine in the morning and my shift started at noon.
With no idea how I could possible work feeling this hungover, I set an alarm on my phone and went back to sleep for as long as I possibly could. Closing my eyes, I hoped that I would feel better in time for my shift.
Two hours later, after what felt like only a few minutes, the annoying alarm started blaring at me. Swatting it and knocking it to the ground, I felt better but still not ready to go to work.
I couldn't let Jacob down and if I didn't show up, he'd have to cover the bar. At least I would be done at eight and then I could come back home and sleep until class on Monday morning.
Eight o'clock.
Noah.
Having completely forgotten about the drink I promised Noah, I tried not to panic. He would be at the club at eight because I guilted him into meeting me. To be honest, I wasn't sure why I asked him for a drink. I wanted a chance to talk to him under different circumstances. I needed to thoroughly thank him once I got my shit together again.
But did I have my shit together?
Running out of time, I finally got out of bed and got ready for work. I debated if I should splash some makeup on my face, especially considering I probably looked worse thanks to my whiskey nightcap. But what was the point?
Instead, I put on some moisturizer and a single coat of mascara before rummaging through my closet for a clean uniform shirt and my favorite pair of dark denim shorts. Slipping on my usual pair of Converse shoes, I packed up my things hurriedly and rushed out of the house.
As I drove well over the speed limit on the single lane road towards the club, I started to worry about how awkward things would be between Jacob and I. I knew he wasn't happy with me about Noah or about refusing his help multiple times but, he was only upset because he cared. That would make it even harder to look him in the eyes.
Jacob would ask me a million questions. He'd ask me about my wrist and the bruises that were now a dark purple color. He'd coddle me and try to take the hard work off my plate and it would all just be so exhausting. I knew he meant well but it was still hard to deal with.
I also knew that Jacob probably had a lot of questions about Noah. Jacob was already suspicious of Noah, especially about inviting Noah to the club for a drink. It wasn't completely crazy of Jacob to be suspicious. I truly didn't know Noah at all and Jacob was just looking out for me the way he always did.
With a few minutes to spare before I was officially late, I parked in the all too familiar parking lot of the club. This time, I had an earlier shift so I parked as close to the entrance as possible.
Getting myself together, I stared into the rearview mirror and got out of the truck apprehensively. I didn't want to be here but if nothing else, I was reliable. More than that, I needed the money and as many shifts as I could squeeze into my hectic schedule.
Walking slowly into the club, it wasn't open for business yet and only staff were inside. I spotted Haley prepping her tables and Jacob was fussing with the bar, no doubt starting my opening duties for me.
"What ya doing?" I asked nonchalantly as I tied the small apron around my waist and locked my personal belongings in the cabinet under the register.
Jacob stared at me with surprise as he watched me clock in. It almost seemed like he wasn't expecting me to come in today at all. I could tell that he was unsure how to approach me.
"I was just setting up the bar. You should've taken the day off." He said cautiously, finishing what he was doing before I walked in.
"Would you do Haley's work for her?" I said seriously, ignoring his comment about taking the day off. He knew I would be there because I never failed to show up.
"How are you?" He asked, walking on eggshells as he stocked the beer cooler.
How was I? How was I really?
To answer Jacob truthfully, I had to answer myself truthfully and that was a can of worms I couldn't open right now. I'd never be able to put myself back together in time.
Unsure how to reply, and not wanting to lie to him, I only shrugged my shoulders and got to work. I was processing everything and with the help of some whiskey last night, I managed to get through to now. If I kept busy, maybe I wouldn't have to think about it at all?
Reaching up to put clean bar glasses on a high shelf, Jacob's eyes snapped to my wrist and instantly his hand was around mine, bringing it closer to him.
"Jesus, Lena!" He whispered angrily as he tried to be gentle around the bruises. "I couldn't see it in the dark but now?"
Pulling my hand back and using my good hand to stack the glasses, I ignored him. There was nothing I could say about it and taking to Jacob about what Owen did would only make him angrier.
"Please just drop it?" I pleaded, lowering my voice so the staff wouldn't overhear us. Gossip spread like wildfire at the club.
"Owen better not think about coming in here again." Jacob spat as he finished up behind the bar. "I don't care what my dad says or how much money he spends in here."
"I don't think he will." I sighed as I began counting the cash register drawer. "And if he does, I think he's been scared away from me at least."
"You think?" Jacob scoffed leaning in closer to me as he also lowered his voice to a stern whisper. "I thought that chump from last night took care of it?"
I wasn't a fan of how Jacob talked about Noah but I wasn't going to argue about it right now.
"He did. Owen was terrified and he got the message." I assured Jacob.
"Terrified, huh?" Jacob raised his eyebrow at me. "Who is this Noah guy again?"
And there it was.
Shrugging my shoulders, I searched for an acceptable answer that would satisfy Jacob's curiosity.
"He's just a guy that came into the club last night." I explained, which wasn't a total lie. "He came to the bar, we talked for a bit and he left me a good tip. That's it."
"How convenient." Jacob said blankly.
"He stopped Owen from doing a lot worse than this..." I snapped my wrist upward and immediately regretted it when I saw the anger spread on Jacob's face like a bad sunburn.
"Damnit, Lena!" He exploded loudly as he pounded his fists onto the glass bar top. Everyone stopped to look at us as I shielded my face from prying eyes, extremely  embarrassed. This was the exact scene that I didn't want to cause.
It was going to be a long night.