Surrender to Me (22 page)

At
last we are granted entrance, and ride up an elevator to the sixteenth floor,
where the bar is located. Talk about stylish, this place is stunning, and I can
see why it is called Lights Out. The place has a dark ambiance to it, and is
contrasted with deep blue lights, illuminating the long bar. I feel like I’ve
walked into a cocktail wonderland.

The
room is made up of glass panels, so one can look out and admire the skyline of
Los Angeles. The tables are scattered around the venue, and have tiny candles
flickering in the center of them. There are lounges in a sectioned off area
upstairs, which I presume is where the VIP’s hang.

The
bar is massive, and shelf upon shelf is stacked with bottles of numerous
liquors and spirits. I need to get over there and drown my sorrows like now. It
is extremely dark in here, which is exactly what I need.

V
is looking for Lucas, and no doubt Harmony is searching for Jasper. Ugh, enough
of that, I need a drink, pronto. Giving V a heads up that I will be chained to
the bar for the evening, she says she will meet me there when she finds Lucas.
I virtually run to the bar in desperate need of a drink.

Thankfully,
because the bar is so long, there isn’t an extended line of thirsty patrons,
waiting to be served. I stand behind a very tall man, which is not hard
considering my height, but his shoulder span is nearly as long as the bar.
Okay, a slight exaggeration, but he is built like an NFL player.

With
his two drinks in hand he turns around quickly, but due to his humongous size,
he doesn’t see me standing behind him. He treads on my foot and I yelp in pain,
while stumbling backward. He tries to reach forward to help steady me, but
instead he spills both his red cocktails on my ivory dress.

“Holy
shit!” he says, looking mortified at my now ruined dress.

Craning
my neck to look up at my assailant, I gasp because he is an NFL player! I can’t
remember his name, but I remember seeing his face on TV, advertising some fancy
cologne.

“Are
you okay?” he asks, clearly horrified.

I
nod, and then I… laugh.

I laugh
hysterically because it’s either that or cry. That’s how I have been feeling
all night, so fuck it. I am going to laugh until my sides hurt.

Mr.
NFL is looking at me with an odd look on his handsome face, but then he too
breaks out into a chuckle.

“I
guess laughing is better than getting stabbed in the eye with those stilettos.”

Looking
down at my shoes, I start laughing again. I don’t know what the hell is wrong
with me, but after the past few days, I need to laugh.

“After
ruining that pretty dress, the least I can do is buy you a drink.”

After
I stop laughing like a homicidal lunatic, I shake my head. “No, it’s okay,
really,” I say, waving him off when he opens up his wallet.

“I
insist, c’mon.” He grasps my hand, leaving me no choice but to follow him.

We
are walking towards the roped off section, and I’m about to inform him we’re in
the wrong area, when the guard lifts up the rope and lets us through.

Wow,
it must be nice having connections.

Mr.
NFL sits us down at a booth, and then motions for a waitress.

“Hello
Taylor. What can I get for you?” asks the blonde waitress in her tight black
uniform.

“Can
you please get me something, anything, to get this stain out of this poor girls
dress?”

Blondie
looks at me and grins. “Let me see what I can find.”

“Thanks
Phoebe,” he smiles handing her a fifty, which she gracefully tucks into her
apron pocket and races off.

My
eyes widen in alarm. “No, I can’t accept that. You just gave her a fifty. Let
me pay you back,” I say, frantically searching through my purse.

Taylor
stills my hand with his. “No please, it’s the least I can do. Seriously, it’s
fine. My girlfriend would kill me if she knew I ruined a Chanel number.”

I
look down at my dress and smirk. “How do you know it’s Chanel?”

Taylor
runs a hand through his short blonde hair. “With a girlfriend who is obsessed
with fashion, I would be neutered if I didn’t know the difference between
Chanel and Prada.”

I
instantly feel comfortable in his presence, and when Phoebe returns with a
miracle cure for my stain, I start to relax.

“So,
how about that drink then?” Taylor asks, awaiting my response.

I
wonder why he was downstairs getting a drink, when there is a fully stocked bar
up here. And judging by the fancy labels I can read from where I am sitting,
the selection up here is a billion times better than down below.

“Why
were you buying booze downstairs when there is a bar up here?” I question, more
out of curiosity than anything.

Taylor
grins. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.” And he motions for me to come
closer, like he is about to divulge his deepest darkest secrets.

I
comply, shuffling forward, totally hooked.

“I
think the bartender downstairs has a crush on me,” he says with a smile.

I
look at him and laugh.

“Oh
yeah?”

Taylor
nods. “Yup, and she sneaks in a double shot of Jameson when no one is looking.”

Laughing
again, I begin to relax in the presence of this humbled superstar.

“I
can’t offer you a double shot up here, but I can offer you cocktails that are
out of this world. What do you think?” Taylor asks with a hopeful look on his
kind face.

Looking
around the dimly lit bar, wondering which corner Harmony and Jasper are in,
discussing taking things to the next level, I reply, “Sure, why the hell not.”

*****

After
too many delicious cocktails, with names I cannot pronounce, I am seeing double
or maybe triple.  Due to my intoxicated brain, I have bombarded Taylor with my
life dilemmas and bless him, he has been  such a good listener. Why is it
always easier talking to a complete stranger, then it is to someone you know?

My
phone has been beeping incessantly, so I give in. Peeking at the screen, I see
a few dozen missed calls from Harper, a couple of messages from V, and one
message from Jasper.

Closing
one eye to focus on the screen because it has suddenly slanted to the left, I
open up Jasper’s message and see that it was sent two minutes ago.

I
can feel the attitude seeping through my slanted screen, but he can shove it,
because it’s now my turn to be the bumbling drunk.

I
spy with my little eye something beginning with… get your ass down here NOW!!

Letting
out a tiny chuckle, I take pleasure in knowing he has been looking for me. But
that happiness is short lived, as I realize he and Harmony have probably
cemented their bond, and he wants to rub it in my face.

On
that note, I think now is a good time to go find V and avoid Jasper.

“Taylor,
thank you for tonight, but I’ve really gotta go find my friends,” I say,
finishing off my red sickly cocktail.

Taylor
stands up as I exit the booth, (what a gentleman), and I extend my hand, which
is engulfed in his.

“Take
care of yourself Ava.”

I
nod. “You too, thanks again.”

“Hey
Ava?” Taylor says, before I turn to leave.

Looking
at him expectantly, I wonder what he has to say.

“Life
has a funny way of working itself out.”

Nodding,
I give him a quick hug. “Thanks Taylor.”

Slowly
walking down the stairs while watching my feet in case I fall, the guard kindly
raises the rope and it’s time for me to slip back into reality.

And
reality comes crashing down on me as soon as I descend the last step.

Smelling
him before even seeing him, Jasper steps out in front of me. His arms are
crossed behind his back, and I know he has been waiting for me. Judging by the
unimpressed look on his face, he’s been waiting a while.

“Hi,”
I smile lamely.

Jasper
runs both hands through his messy hair, but he doesn’t remove them. He leaves
them sitting on his head, his fingers entangled in his tresses. This results in
his biceps blinding me with their perfection, as they are peeking out from
under his short sleeved blue checkered shirt.

“You’ll
be the death of me,” he breathes through his sinful lips.

I
chew on my lip guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

I
don’t know what I’m apologizing for exactly, because I am sorry for a lot of
things lately. 

Jasper
closes his eyes for a few moments, and I use this opportunity to totally check
him out. He is wearing black jeans and my favorite shirt, which complements his
bluer than blue eyes, over a white tight t-shirt. His navy Converse gives him
an edgy, rockstar look, and my God, I think I just drooled when I see him,
watching me, watching him.

He
takes a step towards me, but I stand my ground because I am afraid he is going
to take me to Harmony, so they can taunt me with their happy, perfect
relationship.

“Come
with me.”

Digging
in my heels is pointless, because I don’t stand a chance against him as he
grabs my hand, pulling me through the masses of people. I stumble more than
once because Jasper is a man on a mission, and the crowd in front of us part
when they see him charging towards the exit.

As
Jasper hauls me out into the foyer, I don’t see Harmony out here, and I wonder
what’s going on.

Huffing
out of breath, I ask, “Where are we going?”

Jasper is
silent as he pushes the down lift button, totally ignoring me, which I don’t
like.

“Hello?”
I ask, stepping in front of him, my back to the lift, but he looks over my head
which infuriates me.

What
the hell is he doing?

“Are
you serious? You’re not going to talk to me? You brought me all the way out
here to not talk. Yeah that makes sense. Not!”

“You’re
drunk and being all...flirty,” he finally replies, but still refuses to make
eye contact with me.

Flirty?
Oh, he must have seen me with Mr. NFL. Little does he know, I was up there,
spilling my heart out about how crazy he is driving me. If I didn’t know
better, I’d say Jasper was jealous. But of course that doesn’t make any sense.
Or does it?

I
decide to test out my theory.

“Yeah.
And?” I prompt, standing on tippy toes, attempting to meet his eyes, which only
results in him moving his head from side to side.

Are
you serious? He has the nerve to talk down to me after he turned up on my
doorstep drunk. And not to mention the copious amounts of mixed signals he’s
been giving me since my return. And then of course there is Harmony, and this
so-called ‘bond’ they share.

This
whole situation is pissing me off!

His
impersonal response reminds me of his impersonal note, and I see red.

“Fuck
you Jasper and your righteous bullshit!” Pushing at his chest, he stumbles
slightly, not expecting me to shove him.

“You
drag me out here to ignore me, and then when you talk to me, you state the
obvious. So what if I was being flirty.” I cringe as I say the word, as there
is no truth in it whatsoever. “Are you going to put my drunken ass in a cab and
send me home like you did with Indie? Do I at least get a kiss like she did?!”

He takes a
step back, and looks at me horrified.

Oops.

The
lift dings and I charge into it, quickly hitting the button to close the door,
which thankfully it does before Jasper can follow me in. As the doors slide
shut, I see a slither of his face, and the look on it is one of pure
frustration. I hear a thud, and I presume he has pounded his fist on the doors
in annoyance.

In
my panic, I pushed random buttons, and now the lift is stopping at almost every
floor. Damn this. If Jasper was to take the stairs or another lift, he will
catch up to me. I need to get off at a floor and try to dodge him. As the lift
stops at floor number seven, I steal a look from left to right. The coast looks
clear, so I step out cautiously, afraid Jasper will pop out at any moment.

Tip
toeing down the hallway, I decide trying to be sneaky in stilettos is not a
feasible idea, so I slip them off and carry them by their heels. I peer around
the long hallway which looks to be inhabited by apartments. But everything is
so quiet, and it is eerie walking around alone, as every noise and creak is
amplified in the silence.

Under
these bright lights, I can see the damage done to my dress and funnily enough,
I don’t care. All I care for is getting the hell out of here. Finally seeing an
exit sign which must mean a stairwell is close by, I breathe out a sigh of
relief as I take a step towards it.

Unfortunately
that is my last step, as a pair of warm hands secure around my waist, lifting
me off the ground, pressing my back to his chest. Convinced I am about to
become a missing person, I fight for dear life, kicking and screaming, but
sadly to no prevail as my captor is headed outside.

“Let
me go you motherfucker. I’m a black belt and I will fuck you up!” I yell,
hoping to infuse some fear into my attacker.

But
this falls on deaf ears as he backs through an open glass door, leading out
onto the balcony. I claw at his hands around my waist, and I try kicking his
shins with my heels. I wish I had on my stilettos, as this would be more
effective if I had left them on.

I
may not be a black belt, but I do remember some self-defense moves I learnt in
gym class. I throw my head back and connect with his nose, and celebrate as I
hear it squish under the force of my strike.

Score!

He
lets out a pained grunt and suddenly loses his footing, which results in him
falling backwards into an in ground swimming pool. Sadly, he doesn’t let me go,
and I too tumble into the freezing water with him. I splutter and frantically
wade around, trying to find my feet, but I keep slipping because of the damn
slick floor. I fall onto my ass, but at least my head is above water, which
allows me to look at my attacker.