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"Whoa, mate, you've surely had you share of booze tonight!"
"Srry, takes ma mind off things."
"Doesn't really helps you to stand upright too." Margo carefully seated a guy, who literally just fell on top of her, on the nearest stool and, still holding him with one hand so he wouldn't fall again, tried to call her friend again.
"Leave the message at the tone"
"Dang it, Liza!" She thrust her phone back into the jean pocket discontentedly.
"D' ya lost ya girlfriend? Me too." Oh, right, she was still holding that drunkard by the shoulder.
"Sorry, mate, I'm in no mood to listen to your sappy break-up story. I need to find this idiot and bring her home, and while I can't really see anything at all, she seems to have ditched her phone somewhere."
"Pity. Want me to help find her?" He swayed slightly trying to get up but was held firmly on the stool.
"Do me a favor and just... sit here, 'kay?" She sighed wearily. There was no point in searching through the dancefloor. People were moving so frantically on it, and instead of Liza she might have easily found more problems with more agressive partygoers. She felt a sudden urge to kill someone. "Fine, tell me your sadstory."
The guy has visibly liven up, griped his glass tighter and began a lengthy and tearful story about how they recently parted with a certain Andy. Margo barely listened to him, continuing her nightclub scanning hoping to see a familiar figure amongst the croud. To no avail.
"Wait. Did you say you've always been away travelling?"
"Yeargh. But that's ma job!"
"You know I understand her. Not gonna justify though."
"W-women sol-... soli-... solidarity."
"Nah, just common sence. Both of you have fucked up, you know?"
"A-agreed."
"Glad to hear this."
She got so distracted at some point that she stopped supporting him and he dived sideways from the stool with a not so happy "woop".
"Fuck!" She reached out just in time to prevent his temple from collidinding with the nearest sharp corner. "No, bro, that's not gonna do it. I'm not adding getting you to hospital on this evening's agenda. Sit back."
"O'right. Hate hospitals."
"Good boi."
A few more failed calls, the number of sent and unread messageses increased up to 30+. Oh fuck it. Margo gloomily nodded to herself and set off to the exit. Liza hasn't taken their car today, so she should get home by cab, pray she wasn't drunk to the extent of getting in a car with someone as drunk as her driving.
"Hey, where're ya goin'? We are not done talkin'!"
She paid no attention to the call out as she made her way through the dancefloor and into the street sending Liza one last angry message letting her know that she was going home all by herself. She lifted her arm up in the air to hail a cab when suddenly someone tightly griped her shoulder. Margo felt an alcohol breath - so distinct in the night air - at the nape of her neck.
"We're not done talking."
God, can't be real? Did he really followed her out of the club? Wonder how he managed not to fall on the way here? So what's next? Would he try something? Like hell she'd even give him a chance. Not in a million years. Margo swatted his hand away and turned around ready to give him a piece of mind.
"And I am pretty sure that we're done, mate. Go keep drowning your pain in alcochol, or, better, go home and sleep it all off." Even though her vision was completely defocused she could see how sad his features became. It seemed like he'd start crying any second. Indeed, he sniffed a few times and... Dived sideways again! Oh shit, what can you do with him! This time his temple missed a few inches from an edge of a parking meter.
"I know that's a stupid question but are you fucking kidding me? You can barely stand and you keep drinking nevertheless!" That's right, through all this falling the guy manadged to save his brim-filled glass, did not spill a single drop and took a huge sip as soon as he got lifted up again - a crucial skill indeed! "Fuck, what's wrong with this evening? Geez, 'kay let's send YOU off back home."
Margo gently pushed him to the taxi and ushered him into it. When she tried to straighten up to close the car's door she realized that the guy has been holding onto her forearm for a while now and kinda didn't intend to let her go.
"Either you let go of me right this instant, either I'll punch you really hard."
"But won't you come with me?" He asked. She was stanned by this question. She managed to get his hand off of her forearm and straightened up blocking the view, propping her hands on her waist.
"The fuck should I?"
"It's just I'm so upset..."
"Boi, not my problem, you know?"
"Pretty please?"
Shit, he did those pup eyes again. Ten minutes later she found herself in the backseat of the taxi, making sure the guy stays consious and wondering why the hell she'd agreed to come along.
The car dropped them at a quite a lux of a LA neighborhood and Margo became even more stressed out. These were no elite villas but normal people would not live here either/ She paid for the ride and dragged the guy out of the car and into the villa he claimed his own. Well, at the very least he had keys so even if he's not the owner he might've as well rented it or something. She helped him to the second floor and to the one of the multiple rooms which was, considering the mess in it, his, got him out of his jaket and shoes, layed him down on his side and immediatly turned to leave.
"Wait..."
Fuck, what's now? She turned back facing him.
"Yeah?"
"Can you stay with me?"
Gods spare her, she's always thought such shit only takes place in cheap novels.
"Gonna upset you even more, but even if I did not have a guy I like, I would've refused. I'm not a fan of spontaneous drunk sex with a complete stranger. Especially when I am sober."
"Jack."
"Pardon?"
"Name's Jack." He lay, resting on his elbow, and looked at her really sadly. Or at least that was how it seemed to her in a room lit only by the flare of passing cars.
"Margo." Did she really need to tell him her name? Oh, to hell with it, this night's already wild enough, no use asking herself questions every five minutes.
"Pretty name."
"Thanks, but my answer is still a 'no'. I want to get home too, for all that counts."
"Um, can't you stay here untill I fall asleep then?"
"Well, that's already better, but..." There she wanted to refuse once more but got interrupted by her phone buzzing. An incoming. Wow, it's Liza! Turns out she's alive?
"Hey. Yup, 've been looking for you for about two hours. No, not home yet. What the fuck d'ya mean by 'can you sleep somewhere else tonight'? Are you nuts? Liza? Liza! Oh for fuck's sake, go to hell!"
She yelled the last sentence to the short tones of the ended call. Margo really wanted to shout at someone. Or kick someone's ass. Or both. And get a drink or two. Shit, where in the world she was supposed to spend a night, pray tell? She was prawling in circles, in front of Jack watching her, and kept sending 'hate you' texts to Liza. Finally, she stopped and looked at Jack.
"You win, I'm staying 'till you're asleep. Mind telling if there's an armchair in this room, I can't see a thing?"
She could've bet that he beamed at her. He waved his hand towards the further corner.
"Move it here?"
"Nope. Not going to move your furniture around."
"But it's nicer to talk face to face!"
"Can't you just roll to the other side of the bed?" She gave him a weary glare.
"Well, that's... Sensible."
"Glad, we're on the same page here. Move your ass."
Margo got to the chair, taking off her own jacket and hanging it on the back. She found a couple of pillows scattered on the floor, put it behind her back and pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Meanwhile Jack obediently moved to the edge of the bed closest to her, facing the window, and grimaced at the beam of headlights that ran through his eyes. The guy was slowly sobering up, which meant that a more meaningful dialogue and fewer jokes could be expected.
"By the way, I did not understand. What are you going to talk about?"
"Well, I told you about my love life..."
"More precisely about it's absence."
"Fuck, yes. Doesn't matter. Tell me about yourself. About the guy you like."
"Wonderful topic, but, hell, why do you want to know that?"
"I want to know how cool a guy should be for a girl to refuse me."
Margo fell into a fit of laughter. Jack turned out to be a very pretentious man.
"God, it's a bit complicated. But why are you so full of youself?"
"Mine?" He propped his head in his hand, burying himself under the covers. "Actually, I'm not cool at all. But I’m, kinda, a star, I play in a band, all that, so usually there’s no problem with chicks.
"You drink too much for a lead singer, so let me guess - guitar?"
"Bingo, miss. Ever heard of All Time Low?"
"If you're about to tell me that you're THE Barakat, I'm not gonna believe it."
"But I really am..."
"And I am Queen of Sheba. No offence, Jack, I don't believe."
"Your loss. Would you tell me you tale already?"
"Fi-i-ine, just, pass out asap."
"Oh, you're so fucking kind, I can't."
"Well, actually, yeah. The faster you fall asleep, the longer you'll sleep before the dawn. So do I start,or you've changed your mind?"
"Spill it."
"Warning: my story might compete with yours on sappiness."
"Do tell. Nothing can beat my love story!"
"We can decide on that later. So. In my case everything is kinda fucked up as hell and... I have a huge fucking crush on a musician. Who is a guitarist too, by the way."
"Do I know him?"
"How do I know that? No names, you'll have to do with that. All my subsequent cries are based purely on all that info that you can dig on the internet, and on a couple of fan meetings.
"Snotty, but not very interesting."
"I thought I warned you?"
"Yeah-yeah..." Well, it seemed like even this little was enough for Jack to grow sleepy.
"So I have one crush here with the possibility of becoming mutual of 0%, because it is unlikely that he remembered me from these m&g's, and why the hell would he want me?"
"..."
He fell asleep. Margo quietly got up from her chair and rustled into the corridor, intending to find some kind of sofa in one of the rooms. She rightfully believed that her overnight stay would be the least she could claim as a payment for the entire trouble. And in the morning, before he wakes up, she will leave for good and go home to beat her girlfriend. The girl was already one foot outside the room, when suddenly:
"You're sweet... And you're a good listener..."
She grinned.
"Thank you, Jack, but that’s not enough. Goodnight."
"Nght."
For some reason, she did not want to occupy one of the guest rooms. So she borrowed some pillows in the living room downstairs, found a plaid and settled down... To watch the dawn on the veranda. Yes, while she was hanging out at the club, driving Jack back home and chatting with him, it began to get light. Midsummer after all. Of all the places where she happened to live, the most beautiful sunrises and sunsets were here, in LA. By the way, they were the main reason for another house moving. This time from Brooklyn to here. Strange, yes, but who cares? The sky gradually brightened, tinged with more delicate tones of blue and pink, silhouettes of palm trees and other villas appeared on its background, birds began to twitter, and the girl fell asleep smoothly.
Margo woke up because of the steps behind her and the rumble in the kitchen. What time is it now? Fuck, where's the phone? She crawled out of the chair and from under the umbrella, wincing from the bright sun, and, still wrapping herself in a plaid, she returned to the living room. By the smell she found the kitchen and ... Got fucking shocked.
“Fuck, you really are THE Barakat.”
The guy, braking around fiddling with the fridge and dishes, turned to face her, and the last doubts melted away without a trace.
“Good morning to you too.”
"Something like that. Where is the bathroom?"
"Upstairs, the third door to the right."
"Thanks."
Margo found the bathroom and put herself and her thoughts in order. Which were not. None. Emptiness and clockwork monkey with plates. Wow. Wow. Wow ... She went back down and couldn't help but stare at Jack again.
"Okay, I'm shocked."
"I'm shocked too. I bet you now regret you passed on the opportunity?"
"Fuck off, now I’m double proud that I refused."
"Yes, yes, I will pretend I believed you."
"Geez, you are so self-confident. But you weren’t like that at night."
He shot her a murderous look, she poked her tongue in response.
"Aren't you curious why I got up so early?"
"Honestly? Not really. By the way, what time is it?"
"Noon."
"Is this in your definition of 'early'?" Okay, they shared that, but why should she let him know?
"After partying? Insanely early. But returning to the reason of me waking up in the first place. Your phone."
"What 'my phone'? Damn, where did i put this thing?" Margo began to rummage through her pockets under the malicious supervision of Barakat.
"In your jacket on my armchair."
"Fuck."
"That is exactly how I put it when half a dozen calls tore me from the bowels of blissful oblivion. Do you have a crush on Helyer?"
Bitch. Where did he get that from? Shitshitshitshitshit!
"Anticipating your question, I had to find your phone to yell at the caller. I think it was your girlfriend. And well, on the screen saver, I saw..."
"Max, yes, you don't have to continue, shut up, please."
The girl rushed to his bedroom with a bullet to return her belongings. Jack heard the lingering “oh my fucking god.”
Half a dozen calls were a drop in the ocean. Lisa has spammed her. Literally. The phone gave out notifications about 99+ missed messages. Maybe Margo should've given any signs of life, but she was not going to do it out of principle . She returned to the kitchen and sat opposite of Jack, who had just set two plates with burnt fried eggs and toast.
"You're not a great cook, I see."
“Fuck off,” he snapped and reluctantly dug into his own portion. "I've got a hangover."
"Okay, let's put it on hangover's account. Thanks."
"Eat up already."
Surprisingly, it was not so bad, and after coffee it got even better. Margo decided that she would not die, and volunteered to wash the dishes. While she was wiping ketchup off the plates, Jack disappeared on the second floor and went down, only after hearing that the girl had raked her things and headed for the door.
"Where're you going?"
"Home, as it were. Need something?"
"Well, first of all, thanks. For not leaving me out there."
"C'mon, you were doing such eyes that I would have been sentenced for animal cruel treatment."
Jack neighed.
"I still don't understand why you didn't recognize me."
"Pf, well. I have pretty bad eyesight. I mean, VERY bad. And yesterday I had a check-up, well, and in the end I had something dripped in my eyes, defocus, such other stuff. And the illumination at the club didn't help at all. I wasn't supposed to pick Liza up in the first place, but ended up there."
"The mystery is solved."
"Satisfied? You said “first,” I am waiting for the second part of your speech to get moving already."
"And secondly... That's about Helyer."
"Hell no."
"Hell yeah."
Jack leaned his shoulder against the wall and twisted his own phone in his hands.
"Do you know that he is in LA?"
"Should I? I have a crush on the guy, but I'm not a stalker. My pride has yet to be gone, to fall so low."
"Anyway, here he is, in LA."
"And what do you want from me?"
She copied his movement and also leaned against the opposite wall, crossing her arms over her chest and sighing in exasperation. So he had to sober up so much that he remembered everything she said? Bummer.
"Well, in general ..."
"Jack, spill it, I'm not going to wait all day for your revelation."
Doorbell. Jack smiled slyly. Oh no.
"We were going to meet up today, and while you were sleeping, I asked if he could arrive a bit earlier than planned. He was positive."
"I'll strangle you..."
Another ring.
"Oh no, honey, you'll be too busy for that."
He walked past her to the door and opened it. Margo did not see who was standing behind it, because she stood with her back turned and her eyes closed in addition, praying that it'd turn out to be a fucking prank and the person at the door was anyone else - a neighbor, a postman, but not Max fucking Helyer.
"I thought you texted me and fell asleep again." - Fuck. There is no God up there.
"No, dude, I just got a little bit caught up in a conversation, come in."
"With who?" The girl slipped a little to the side, hiding behind the corner, and thinking how to get the fuck away from there. The steps of the two guys approached.
"There she is. Meet Margo."
Jack Barakat, you're officially the most rotten bastard in the universe. Max and Jack stopped in front of her. Helyer smiled welcomingly at her, and his eyes flashed with ... recognition?
"Oh, you were at a m&g a couple of months ago?"
Oh God help me. Ah, right, you do not exist, damn it. Margo desperately pretended that she would not fall right into the sprint to the door. Why does he remember her?
"Yeah, and another one ..."
"Last year, I know."
Barakat's smile could've been used as lubricant for the creaking hinges, so greasy and pleased it was.
"Yes, yeah, hi ..."
"Hi. Ginger hair suits you just like the turquoise one did."
She gulped. This is the end of her.