❀Azalea❀

I stumble up onto the sidewalk of town square. I'm back where I started; on my way to get my parents alcohol.

A twenty dollar bill rests firmly in my hand and I don't think I could give it away to the nice homeless man even if I wanted to. The threat my father sent me was enough to make me do anything.

I wish I would just kick him in his nuts.

They wouldn't even let me drive here. I had to walk a full thirty-five minutes from my house to town square.

After the crash, every ounce of activeness I had went out the window. Now, I can't even get out of bed without being out of breath.

After walking for what feels like another three years, I make it to the front of Danny/Donny's shop, whatever his name is. All the lights in the shop are off. Gathering my last little bit of hope, I take a closer look at the door.

Hours: Wed-Fri 12pm-10pm
Sat-Sun 2pm-10pm

I back away from the door and try not to lose my cool. I have been set up for failure. It's actually not like he knew the hours, he's too drunk to remember.

Tears of frustration build in my eyes but I don't let them fall. I take deep breaths and close my eyes envisioning a big red velvet cupcake.

I'm not fixing to go home without anything. Last time I did that, I could hardly move my back for a week.

I decide on Red Street. There are bars all over Red Street so unfortunately, that's my best bet.

I tug on the bottoms of my admittedly kinda short shorts and hug my torso. Clouds circle over my head and my mostly bare arms begin to get chilly. I should've worn a jacket over my t-shirt.

Why is it that none of these little trips ever work out?

The first bar I see, I decide it's good enough. That is until I open the door and see a couple of women on poles. I jump out that place so quick.

God forgive me of my sins.

This is going to be harder than I thought.

I walk a little further down the street and finally I come to a place that actually doesn't look bad. Or like there are strippers inside.

I open the door and faint music and loud talking reach my ears. There are a lot out on the floor with drinks in their hands and the rest are piled up around the actual drink bar, or whatever it's called.

It reminds me of the movie Coyote Ugly to be honest. Except without the women dancing on the bar and all.

The closer I look around, the more I see the drunken people. One guy is tripping over himself and another is leaned up against the wall with his friend holding him up.

I don't even have an ID and I'm not twenty-one, what am I trying to get away with here? I look seven years old.

Maybe they'll see the desperation in my eyes and think 'wow she must be having a hard day, let me give her some moonshine, preferably the closest thing to cherry pie or heck, even peach.'

I feel eyes on me and notice and guy staring directly at me. He's obviously drunk. He sits at the bar, a drink in his hand that is currently being poured out because he's too drunk to keep it up straight.

It doesn't help that he looks at least thirty-five.

I ignore his gaze and just walk up the closest near-empty spot on the bar. I feel my heart pound as I stop at the bar.

I've never even been in a bar and now I'm going to order things? How? What do I do? 'Hello, I'd like some cherry pie moonshine!'

'Hey bartender guy, give me some peach moonshine!"

I'm screwed.

Knowing my luck, they wouldn't even have peach or cherry pie. They'll have something like White Lightning and from what my parents said, that's the nastiest kind.

"Shout em out!" A loud voice shouts over everyone and voices flow into the bar. My eyes fall upon the bartender who works at a nearly impossible speed, all while a smile stays on his face.

His light hair flops over his forehead as he bends under the bar, retrieving a brand new bottle of goodness knows what type of alcohol.

Just as quickly as people call out drinks, he's serving them. Just looking at him makes my head hurt.

"Ya haven't said a word pretty lady; what'd you like?" he speaks loudly, his eyes darting up to mine for a split second. My heart beats even louder as I look around me at any other person but I don't think there are any other girls in my general area.

"Peach moonshine," I speak quickly, getting it over with as fast as I can. The craze around the bar simmers down and now he's only making drinks every ten or so seconds.

When I finally raise my eyes from my hands, he's looking right at me, a slightly confuzzled look on his face.

"Strong drink for such a small person," he chides and I hold back from jumping over the counter and showing him just how a 'small person' like me can break out CIA/karate moves on him.

"Cherry pie could work too," I bite my lip. I don't think cherry pie is any less strong than peach but hey, maybe it is? I don't know, I'm not a scientist.

"You have an ID?" a small smirk now rests on his face and I swear if it weren't for this tall counter, he'd wish he wasn't smirking.

Like really? Who makes a counter this tall? It's up to my chest.

I look down at my feet and notice a step right underneath the counter. Ohhh. Duh.

I step up and now it's not as tall anymore.

"My ID is in my wig that I left a home," I blurt out and internally remind myself to punch myself in the face later.

"No ID?" he chuckles. He's pretty darn good. If he can see past my trained lying, he must've been bartending for a while now. Or he works for the CIA too.

"How old do I look?" I narrow my eyes and his face lights up with a smile. Aw, he's cute. What an anus cake.

"I'll be nice and give you eighteen," he tilts his head and I flick him off under the counter.

"Newsflash, I'm thirty-one," I deadpan.

"Damn, at first I was going to say thirty, but I decided against it," he slaps the table, and I bite the inside of my lip to keep from smiling.

"I guess I can give you something as long as you don't tell other people about my mistake," he shakes his head like he's embarrassed.

"I won't tell anyone," I nod and he shakes his head as he bends, grabbing something from under the counter.

He pulls out a cup filled with peach colored moonshine. I stare at it for a couple of seconds.

"Can I get a top for it," I question and he laughs.

"What, you want to drink moonshine from a sippy cup now?" he replies. One more comment from him and I swear.

How the freak am I going to walk all the way home with an open cup? I know for a fact that I'll forget it's in my hand and it'll tip over.

"Fine," I give him the twenty dollars and say freak it. I'm probably still going to get punished for only bringing a cup home but whatever, it's better than nothing.

"I don't think so," the recognizable voice that I haven't heard in a couple of days says.

I look up and see Grey in all his gorgeous glory. He lifts the drink away from me and he pours it in the sink.

"Grey," I grumble and he turns to me.

"What are you doing Lilah? You're nineteen," his dark eyebrows furrow angrily and I sigh.

"I was close," the bartender guy murmurs and I hold myself back from attacking him.

"I'm not nineteen," I mumble stubbornly even though I am and he raises an eyebrow at me, placing his arms on the counter in front of me. Does he work here?

"Not what you told me," he says lowly.

"Can I get a scotch?" A guy slurs from behind me. His hand curls around my back and I flinch forward in shock, a slight gasp leaving my lips.

Grey throws his forearm forward, slamming it into the guy's chest. My eyes go wide.

"You wanna get handsy, go get a fuckin' hooker," he sneers and the guys eyes widen in fear. I'm pretty sure mine do too.

Without getting his drink, the guy makes his way back out into the large crowd.

"This is why you don't come to places like this," Grey growls out and I bite the inside of my cheek.

He doesn't understand.

"I need moonshine," I tell him strongly. I decide against crossing my arms, figuring it'd make me look less like a cool person.

"You're not getting any," he seemingly grows more frustrated.

"I will climb over this counter and get it myself if you don't give me it," I warn and the closest thing to a smirk takes over his face.

He leans forward and I nearly swoon but I hold myself back.

"Try me."

I'll pull out my CIA moves so quick, he won't know what hit him.

Instead, I lay my head on my arms and hide my face from him, trying to think of an adequate plan.

A slight push on my back gets my attention and I raise my head from my arms. I turn around to see who did it only to be met with a big man's elbow right in the face as he gets into a bar fight with another guy.

My head flies back so fast I could've gotten whiplash if I wasn't so CIA trained.

Good God almighty, that hurts like a mother trucker.

Large hands grab under my arms and lift me back. I feel my butt slide across the counter until I'm on the other side.

What a strong guy.

The taste of blood seeps into my mouth and I cringe. My nose and top lip feel numb at the moment but I know that in the morning, I'll definitely be feeling the pain.

Unfortunately, I can't even smell Grey due to the blood filling my nose. What a shame. He turns me toward him, and I blink rapidly keeping my eyes from watering up.

I can't even think clearly right now. Is he being nice or am I hallucinating?

"Lilah-" the bartender from before starts but Grey cuts him off with a glare. And, he's back.

"Her name's Azalea."

"Azalea, are you okay?" he winces, handing me a stack of napkins. I shove them on my nose and give him a little nod.

Grey stands in between my legs and I'm glad I have napkins over my face because I'm blushing like a mother-frigger right now.

I pull the napkins away and look up at him. 

"This is what you get for not giving me moonshine. A bloody counter," I narrow my eyes. He rolls his dark eyes and grabs my hand, putting it back up to my nose.

He lifts me down from the counter and I look down at all the drink selections under the counter. I spot the moonshine. I go for it.

I grab the one labeled 'Peach'. Then I put it back realizing that it's missing some because of the glass I was given. I grab the one beside it, thankfully, it's peach too.

Before I can put it under my shirt or even make a run for it, Grey's pressed up against my back. His arms come around my frame and he takes it from my hands.

"I told you no," he says lowly down at me. He sits it on the counter and begins leading me into the back of the place where no one can see.

He pushed me lightly into the bathroom, following behind me and shutting the door. I'm not even worried anymore, if he wanted to kill me, he would've already done it. Plus, I could take him in a fight.

I remove the napkin from my face and look in the mirror, having to slightly stand on my tippy toes to see myself. Who even makes these tall mirrors?

I cringe at myself. Good heavens, I look like I've been brutally beaten with a baseball bat. Or just elbowed in the face, the same thing.

The pain sets in and I sigh. I turn on the water, putting my hair up to not get it wet. I already look beaten up, I don't want to look like a wet dog on top of that.

Grey just stands there silently, with his eyes on me. What a great help he is.

"Exactly why you should just stay where you belong," he grumbles and I pull away from the water.

I belong wherever I want to belong. CIA headquarters? Dang right. Pimp central? Yep. A bar? Sure, why not?

"How many time are you going to tell me that I shouldn't come here?"

"As many times as it takes to get it through your thick fucking skull," he sneers and I hold back my fists that want to go swinging.

"As many times as it takes," I mimic him, only feeling his glare on the side of my head.

"Go ahead, glare at me all you want. Glare at the girl with a busted lip and broken-in-half-nose," I jump at him to scare him but he doesn't move.

"I will if she's being an immature little shit," he glares harder, stepping up to me, admittedly making me feel smaller.

Big girl britches; activated.

"Well guess what? You're a big crap," bam, suck on that.

He grabs another napkin off the sink and he places it on my nose. I take hold of it and sigh. I thought it had stopped but I guess not.

"Thank you," I say softly.

"So, do you work here?" I question, just to get a conversation going while I try to fix my nose.

"I own it."

Woah, what a big boy he is.

"You didn't seem like the bartender type," I ramble, "I figured you were like security or something because hello, your arms are as big as me. Then I was like, well, maybe he's not. Maybe he's a janitor. But, you didn't seem like a janitor either. Do bars have janitors?"

"Close your mouth," he grumbles and I give him a pretty darn good glare.

"How old are you anyway? Please don't tell me you're fifty. You look young to be fifty but nowadays, who knows. Wait, don't say it," I hold my hand up.

"Let me guess," I look up at him as he stares down at me. I let my eyes fall over all of his features. No gray hairs, that's a good sign. No wrinkles, that's also a good sign. Strong build, that's a wonderful sign.

"Seventy-four."

"Nope, just kidding. I'm gonna say," I pull on my lip, fully noticing how his eyes fall down to my mouth, "twenty-three."

"Twenty-four," he clears his throat. He's in his prime of many years to come, I can see it right in front of me. Hot dang.

"Let me have the moonshine," I stress, "please, it's all I want. I'll give you whatever you want."

He glances at me, his eyes swirling in mischievousness.

"I have this blanket at home, it's really, really soft. It's gray, it reminds me of you. I'll give it to you if you give me the jar of peach moonshine," I admit.

He doesn't look as open to the idea of the blanket as I am.

"What about...oh! What about I give you a free book at Mr. Terrip's store? You forgot to get a book when you went there," I smile brightly up at him.

I'll give you a free lap dance.

Where the heck did that come from?!

I sigh and lean back up against the sink.

Grey's wonderful scent envelops my nose but that hardly does anything at the moment. I keep my eyes locked on his tattooed arm, not looking anywhere else.

Up close, the tattoos are absolutely amazing. His entire arm, as far as I can see, is covered with ink. Just under the bottom of his shirt sleeve, scary, dark figures sit. Grim reaper-like figures are the closest thing I can think of.

They're just dark and deadly. It gives me the shivers.

In the background, it's covered with shading and dark colors that accentuate the figures.

Did Pablo Picasso do these tattoos? Goodness. That tattoo artist should win awards or something.

There's smoke that travels from one of the figures and it wraps all throughout the rest of the tattoos on his arm.

A tree goes up and dead branches spread out along his arm, and the back of it, although I can't see it, I wish I could. Around the tree, crows fly in the air.

The bottom of the tree stops at his wrist where there are roots sticking up and no greenery or bushes at all. Everything's dead.

In the background of the tree, words fill up the rest of his skin. Except for the symbol-like tattoo beside the tree.

I try to read what it says but his arm moves behind me before I can. That brings me back to reality.

With both his arms on either side of me, my heart speeds up.

"Tell me why you want it," he says lowly and I gulp as he stands so close to me.

Why is it now that my brain can't think of anything? Any other time I'd come up with at least something.

His hand moves to rest on my side. It explodes with tingles. Not actually, because that would be like impossible unless I'm like allergic to him or something but, it makes butterflies go off in my stomach.

"I want to get away from everything," I whisper.

Never would I ever become like my parents. I would never take a sip of alcohol after seeing what it does to them.

I want to get away from them. I want to get away from the constant reminder of being the cause of Jake's passing, but I would never actually do that by drinking.

"I want to escape for a minute," I add, not going far into an explanation.

I don't want to go home.

I peek up at him only to see his head cast down at the ground, looking at the floor. His head only stays down for a few seconds before he looks back directly at me. His dark eyes craze the butterflies further.

"You shouldn't be drinking that shit," he grumbles, his eyebrows furrowed into a small glare.

"I know," I reply softly.

His thumb rubs a single circle on my waist before he pulls away.

~~~

"What's your last name?" I question, swinging my feet back and forth while sitting on the counter he oh-so-graciously planted me on.

I hardly know anything about him, and I think it's time I do.

"Kingston," his dark voice travels to me as he looks through the stock of their alcohol for my cherry pie moonshine.

"Mine's Carson," I inform him and he stops, turning back toward me.

"You've told me, Lilah."

Noise reaches my ears and I freeze.

"I think there's a ghost, Grey," I whisper. My training didn't teach me how to defeat ghosts. And Ghostbusters only goes so far.

"How long have you lived here?" I change the subject although still keeping a close watch to my surroundings.

"Why?" his voice turns deeper and I look up to see him glaring darkly at me.

"I just want to know," I shrug, "I want to know more about you."

"You think I care about what you want?" he sneers and I hold back the world's loudest groan. Why does he change so quickly? He was just being nice.

"You think I care about what you think?" I shoot back, frustration building up in me.

"And you wonder why I want to drink," I grumble, adding to my imaginary list of reasons why I want to drink.

"Fuck you,"  his voice turns deadly and I regret my last words. No one's told me that before and I don't really like it.

"Is that all you've got?" I grit out. If he thinks he's gonna get to me by just that, he's got a whole storm coming.

He takes long strides toward me and I stare up at him as he does. He grasps my chin in a firm but not painful grip, lifting my head so that I'm looking straight at him.

"Why do you do that?" he clenches his jaw.

"Do what?" I question softly.

"Get me all riled up," his grip softens and so do his features.

"You're the one who started it," I give him a little shrug, biting my lip to keep a smile off my lips. His eyes dart down to them.

"Don't do that," he glares at my lips.

"Why," I crinkle my nose up at him.

"It turns me the fuck on, now quit it," he clenches his jaw and I release my lip as I feel my cheeks heat up.

Well, at least we have something in common. He turns me on with one look. Turn on? Goodness, I need a vacation.

He picks up the cherry moonshine and the peach one, handing them both to me.

"Leave," he grumbles, lifting me off the counter and setting me down on my feet.

Strong man, I like that.

I peek out the little window only to see it raining cats and dogs outside. That was the ghost I thought I heard, duh.

What a great time to not have my car, how fun is that?

"Um," I start, not knowing where to go from there.

"So like, you're just gonna love this, I don't have my car. Do you have a jacket or something I could borrow maybe?" I question.

He sends me a glare.

"No," he gives me a slight push out of the room and I'm back in the main part of the bar.

I let out a big sigh and head toward the door. This sucks major nuts.

I hold the cherry pie and peach moonshine close to me as I finally exit the bar.

The freezing rain hits my skin and I nearly go into shock.

I'm actually going to get hypothermia. Then, I'm going to blame it on Grey. And the next time he sees me, he'll hear all about it. If I make it out alive.

I begin my trek walking down Redstreet. I make it about five stores down from Grey's bar when I feel someone grab onto my shoulders.

I thought I was seriously being kidnapped for point three seconds, but it's all good.

He puts a sweatshirt over my head that smells exactly like him and I swoon into it. He lifts the hood over my head and pulls the bottom of it down as far as it will go to cover my bare legs.

I look up beside me and there is the one and only Grey Kingston. Darn if that rain doesn't make him look real nice.

"What are yo-"

"Just shut up," he grunts out and I do.

He leads me out to the parking lot and to the passenger side of a really nice tall, shiny, black Jeep Wrangler.

He opens the door for me and I climb inside with the help of a little push from him. After closing my door, he goes around to his side.

The time it takes him to do so, I take in the smell of him, which is the most greatest thing ever, and the overall cleanliness of the car.

He opens his side and my eyes catch sight of the shirt that oh-so-heavenly clings to his torso.

Good Lord Jesus. That's very nice. That's just, wow.

"Grey," I say quietly and he looks over at me, water dripping off his gorgeous entire being.

"Thank you," I give him a little smile.

He doesn't say anything, which is to be expected. He starts the car and I begin panicking. I close my eyes to calm myself as I feel the car beginning to move.

I try to keep the memories of the events before the crash out of my head but some surface through.

"Lilah."

His voice brings me back to reality and my eyes snap back open, darting over to him. He looks at me almost worriedly.

Worriedly? No, I must be dreaming.

"Huh?"

"What's wrong with you?" he questions, his eyebrows furrowing. I just shake my head.

"What? Oh, nothing," I blow it off with a wave of my hand although I'm still completely freaking out.

"Tell me where to go," he urges and I follow his orders as best as I can with a calm voice.

♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦

'It's raining men, hallelujah it's raining men, amen' -The Weather Girls

if you don't know that song, I highly suggest looking it up, it's quite perfect. Anywho, these finals are kicking my whole entire ass. Not looking forward to getting these scores but hey, let's just hope I don't have to retake any.

Thanks for reading!

Word count: 4300

-Ashlyn Montgomery