Sweet Rush

Nine

"Thanks for the soup, babe." Blair manages to get out under the piles of blankets she's under.

I had made it my mission to visit her apartment and make sure she's fine as she won't be with me for the upcoming nights. Turns out she has a really bad cold. Nothing she can't handle.

"Anything for you." I kiss her temple, risking my life just to show her love. I tuck her in once more and open her blinds just a peep to bring in the morning light into her tiny apartment. "You know apparently there's an interrogation at the bar today for whoever stole that money." 

I had filled Blair in on all the bullshit that went down at the bar as well as last night and had only now just given her the part about the cops coming. I'll be in at four so maybe I'll be the only one there left to question.

"I still can't believe that Mr. Hottie Pants thinks you stole money, you don't even look that desperate." she struggles from under her weighted blankets. 

"That desperate?" I catch on to her words. 

I don't look desperate, do I?

"I'm kidding Malia. How can someone so gorgeous like yourself look desperate?"

I chuckle with her after she has restored my confidence because if she had busted out that "to be honest, Malia" I would have ran down to the deepest part of the New York drains to drown myself in piss water and sorrow. A buzz arises from my back pocket and if it's not Avana, it's one out of two of my parents or maybe both. I pull my phone from my dark washed jeans, and just like I thought it's my mom.

I mouth to Blair that my mom is on, letting her know not to say anything that can sell me out to my parents. It's crazy how a small town girl like me is out in the massive city, as a college dropout. My parents would say failure, I say badass. 

"Hey mama." I smile as I see her gorgeous eyes, still bright even though I know she goes through it every day with babies, fixing their hearts. "What are you up to."

"Nothing at all. Just taking a little rest for the next two days, I've been told I'm not that well." she says, smiling at me as if she hasn't just told me something that could be bad. There's no point in asking because she won't tell me.

They never tell me things that 'hurt' me, they don't know that they're hurting me by keeping me in the dark.  I was sixteen when I found out my dad had fought cancer for five years, they told me when it went away. I was still a child when he had cancer but that didn't mean I didn't understand what it was. I understood a lot when I was young, even mom's profession. 

"Well I hope everything is okay. Do you know why you're not well?" I probe trying to get an answer some way, some how.

"How's school hun?"

"It's school. A lot of work. I'm just over at my friend's dorm." I angle the camera to show Blair and she peeks her arm out ti give a wave. "She's a little sick." I explain before she asks about the situation Blair is in (the tons of blankets)

I'm very certain she doesn't even need to be wrapped up like that but we're hoping that she sweats out the cold so she can hit the road with me again soon. 

"Homecoming is coming up right?" 

"Uhhh, yeah right it is?" It comes out more like a question, as I have no clue when homecoming is at my previous school. "Yeah, it is." I clear my throat before telling the lie. Technically I don't even know if it's a lie, could be, could not. 

"Okay then, just let me know the date and send me pictures. I gotta get going on my jog. Talk later?"

"Talk later mom." I hang up the line before turning and bulging my eyes at Blair. She knows I'm in a deep mess. How am I going to get homecoming pictures when I don't even go to school?

I can always convince her that I'm not going but, I've always been the usual homecoming goer. I've never missed any once. 

Well there is a first time for everything. Haha. 

It's now that time where I get ready to enter the second part of my double life. I'm not phased by Blair's statement earlier in the day about the interrogation. Mainly because I'm not involved in whatever Jane thinks I'm in. As I enter the packed bar I immediately go into autopilot. I run to the locker, put my things away and head straight to the bar to get my shift started. No policemen seem to be around but I suppose they won't be out in plain sight like this or guests would suspect something is up. Like a homocide or zombie apocalypse or whatever these New York hooligans come up with when they see cops. After about an hour of being at the bar serving drinks, I reluctantly do what I wanted to ever since I stepped out into this glorified drinking lounge. I look up to the overhead office, scavenging for those familiar brown eyes.I don't have a clue exactly why I'm doing this but I once heard that God works in mysterious ways. It must be God leading me, right? 

I chuckle a little at my thought, returning to the job that pays me. A customer shouts out an order as if I'm not 3 feet away from him and totally capable of hearing. I take note and let him know that it's coming up. I pour about a teaspoon of vodka to finish off his drink and slide it over to him. He gives me that 'thank you' nod and runs off into the distance. I turn to place the glass bottle back on the shelf but before I can do that I'm met with white. A white T-shirt covering chest. My body awakes as it recognizes who has invaded my personal bubble. I crane my head upwards, having no choice because of my 5'1 disadvantage. I have no problem being petite but it's a disadvantage at this point in time. My eyes meet his and I can tell he's about to let me know that my turn is up for the interrogation. 

"Let me take you to the back, there's something we need to discuss." he says curtly before padding off in the direction of the office. For someone who's 'taking me to the back', he's doing a terrible job at it. Without having a choice I follow behind as closely as I can. My palms begin to sweat as I inch closer and closer to the office. I've never had to be interviewed by the cops. I've never even been pulled over when I used to drive in North Carolina. I'm all around a good citizen who happens to lie to her parents about being in school studying to be a journalist. 

I'm just peachy. 

"Okay Malia." Jane says when we enter the office. No one's here. But him and I. 

Where are the cops? Who's going to interview me? 

"Yes, is there something you wanted to talk to me about?" I inquire, desperate to understand what's happening. I mean I thought I'd at least be seeing a cop or two. Are they late?

"I just want to apologize." He starts, staring into my soul. "You didn't steal that money, one of the bottle girls did." he drops the news as dry as the Sahara. 

"Well I guess he doesn't have a thing anymore. " I say under my breath so lowly that I'm sure he didn't hear a peep. That's not true because the moment I said it, his bland bronze stare becomes engaged. 

"What did you say?"

"You weren't supposed to hear that." I try to avoid this awkward conversation time bomb that's ticking. He stands from the desk he was sitting at. Slowly stalking towards my direction. If my heart stops I wouldn't know because the rush of adrenaline will surely keep me alive. I fail to decipher his next moves as he continues to walk across the room. His eye contact never drops as he settled into a spot. 

"Are you being disrespectful?"

"Did I sound like I was being disrespectful?" I say in the calmest tone even though every part of my body is rupturing from the inside out. His proximity doesn't help the situation at all. It's as if electrical shocks are surging through my insides and he's the source. 

"I think it's time to leave my office Malia. See yourself out. Thanks for not stealing anything." The words barely make it past his lips. Almost like those are not the words he wishes to say. 

"Gladly." I rebut, dying to say more. Am I desperate for wanting the moment to be longer than this? I wish he would put up a fight because as much as I've grown to dislike him I actually find myself not wanting to leave his intoxicatingly tantalizing presence. However, this is his office and I'm an employee. 

Reluctantly, I walk out of his office and back to bar.