Chapter Three

Emily Collins- December 12th 2015

“I thought we had one more week!” I hear a familiar voice screaming as I'm rushed down the long halls and into the maternity ward. “What the fuck!” Again, he screams, confused.

I almost find myself wanting to laugh at my friend's confusion and worried face but the pain from this is way too much and all I can afford to do right now is grimace in his direction, hoping he knows that currently, this is hilarious in my mind because of his constant cursing at everyone.

He is a mess right now and I don't blame him, I'm scared too and Jasmine looks much too happy to focus on her fear. I don't blame her either because I, too, am happy, so goddamn happy.

Another sickening pain pierces through my lower half and I swear, I'm not being dramatic when I cry from the pain of early child birth.

“Don't you dare die on us!” Jasmine snaps, pointing a warning finger at me. “I will kill you if you do.” She adds her threat and I laugh, or cry, I'm not sure but I do make a sound as I'm being prepared to go.

“How does that even work?” I wheeze out, jokingly.

She narrows her eyes at me just as our other friend starts his concerned speech. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Goddamn, Emily, think of something else, maybe it'll ease this pain or something?” He rushes out.

I find myself smiling.

Alex, my very very good friend that is probably more than a friend, I take him as my very own brother! His kind and nice and a bit over dramatic at times and sometimes he likes making jokes about my misery and still, that brings a smile to my face.

F L A S H B A C K

Around eleven, like right now, when it's much too late and still too early, the bar tends to get a little rougher and louder and much more crazy.

With the smell of smoke, tobacco, weed and alcohol mixed into the air, it isn't good, at all. I don't like the mixed smells but I've grown accustomed to it since I've been here, working, for the past week.

The atmosphere here is so different from what I'm normally used and exposed to. It's something I've never experienced before, something I never felt before. It's almost refreshing and I know that sounds completely insane because who in their right minds would think that a bar is refreshing?

Not many people to be honest. Not everyone is my father, he likes to drink and spend his life in these scenes and settings, bars and clubs, basically anything with booze was a yes for him.

Unfortunately for me, I hate this, everything about this- and my hate for alcohol is tenfold. But still, I choose to work here, in this busy and famous bar from five to twelve on weekdays.

I do get weekends off, sometimes.

“Hey, can I get you anything?” I ask the man that leans across the counter, staring at me, weirdly.

“Something strong.” The lanky man mutters.

I smile, it's fake. I learnt it's better to do that rather than having a straight face, customers don't like that. It's offensive, apparently, they think we're angry at them or something.

“Actually, two of your strongest ones.” The man interrupts me, after a short pause, chuckling to himself.

I nod my head in understanding. “That kinda day uh?” I find myself asking, something I never do- make conversation with the customers like the other bartenders but I do it today because I feel in a good mood and I'm feeling much too happy.

His baby blue eyes twinkle, scanning me for a long second before a small smirk forms on his thin lips. “Oh yeah. It's been a very long day.” He chuckles again.

Nodding my head, I smile as I pass over his drinks which he happily takes , much too eagerly, gulping it down faster than I can to blink. I should be shocked at this but really, I've seen females younger than me down their drinks faster than that so it isn't new to me anyway. “Another?” I ask.

He nods his head until his down to his seventh glass of vodka, trying to smooth talk and flirt me up and that doesn't go well at all.

Many men that come here often do this and I'm not the only one, there's two other female workers here that go through this tortuous part of drunk and high, horny men. However sometimes they do entertain the men, after work, if you know what I mean but that's only because they need desperately need the money. Not me though. I hate this part.

Especially if I'm not working behind the bar. It's harder then they have easier access to me, griping and touching doesn't turn out good, for them mostly.

“Oh, c'mon now, sweetheart, I know you want me.” He tries again.

I shake my head no, showing him a disgusted face. I definitely do not want him, or anyone in fact. He could be my goddamn uncle or something similar with how old he looks, give or take forty-nine and over and by the way he dresses, I wouldn't doubt for a second that he could possibly be a farway uncle or something! 

That rich look. . .

That tailor made suit that screams, I am rich, suck it up. And the way his face is trimmed and neat and hair is sleeked backwards, almost too perfectly. I bet he has those nice ass shiny shoes on his feet too.

His whole appearance and the way he speaks says his got money.

I know old man like this and frankly, I think I'm way too familiar with these types of men, so much so that my blood boils at the smugness on them. I have nothing but hatred for old drunken tarts like this and I'm not afraid to show or speak on my hate, in fact I'll be happy to start my preaching about it too because I've been around rich people like him before. I know how they work and what ticks them. I also hate that I remember them and their loud mouths, crude, rude commentary! It's fucking cringe worthy to the dammed bone.

It's actually sad though, that these old perverts do this as if they don't have a family or loved ones waiting at home for their arrival, maybe they're dying for their attention but do these fuckers care? No, absolutely not, they are just utterly stupid and useless really.

They don't give a damn!

I know this because like I said, I've been around people like this before- actually I lived with one too.

“Sir,” I calmly say. “If you aren't going to get anything else then there's a nice little booth vacant over at the back.” I gesture behind him.

He doesn't bother to turn or even acknowledge my words, he just scoffs and that alone tells me that this man is stubborn and isn't going to leave easy which only irritates me further but all I can do right now is control my temper, gritt my teeth and smile tightly at the old man seated before me.

As much as I want to bash the strangers head down on to the marble top, I really can't and have to force myself back because of three reasons.

Number one, I'm hardly ever violent.

Number two, I don't like lashing out on people.

Number three, my boss is going to play the fake angry card.

Although this man deserves every ounce of violent activity I have going on in my head. I know better than that. I don't care if my boss acts tough for his customers because this all his a joke to him.

He always, always has a laugh about it after they leave. And I'm only saying that because it's happened before, a couple of times actually.

Alex is a good guy, his refreshing boss and friend, a very good friend and him being my friend is how I got this job anyway. Otherwise I would definitely be begging on the streets in new york.

He doesn't like me working here though, in his bar. He says my qualifications are higher and I deserve a higher position in one of his other business but I know his being a biased ass. I have to politely decline his constant offers. I want to earn for myself, to experience and live and be independent and anyway his done way too much for me already and I am so fucking thankful for that.

He gave me my own apartment in his building which I accepted!

It's free, obviously, and right now I don't think I could afford any accommodation that this city has to offer, especially with my pay.

Even when he sneakily gives me more than I deserve.

He doesn't even ask questions or try to pry about my past.

“If I wanted another seat, don't you think I would have moved away by now?” He growls, angrily, slapping hard at the counter top and I flinch back. “I would like to have you, how much for a night? You've got a nice piece of ass.”

Oh my god! 

Old fucking cow!

My eyes narrow at him, glaring a death glare and I open my mouth to finally tell him off, having enough of his shit. But a new voice speaks and stops me from saying anything at all when they wrap their arm around my waist, protectively but still, I stiffen in their protective hold.

I should be used to this by now but I'm not. I don't like it when people hold or touch me, friends or not, I always freeze up. I know why it happens, I'm not use to gentleness and kindness and sometimes it makes me uncomfortable, only slightly.

“Any problem here, sir?” A stern yet playful voice questions.

“N- no, not at all.” The man lies and I roll my eyes, yeah sure thing buddy, act as if you didn't just ask me to be your own personal whore for the night.

“Okay, good.” Alex says and I can hear the smugness in his voice. “I'm just going to speak to my girlfriend real quick. There's a booth at the back if you still want to order, I'll send someone over.” He tells the man, excusing us both.

“That's your woman?”

“Yes, actually. Gorgeous isn't she?”

“Hmm,” The man humms, greedily eyeing me up and down with lustful eyes and I nearly gag. “Quite a beautiful piece.”

I turn my head to the side, huffing and notice my friend smirk at him, nodding his head in agreement before pulling me towards a more quiet area where he can properly laugh at my expense, again.

Alex Henderson.

One of New York City's youngest billionaire bachelors, his goofy and funny and so very annoying at times but he is very admirable too!

But I love him as I would a brother.

He is the only family I ever have anymore.

I had befriended him way before running away from my home town. His a friend's, friend's friend. And his helped me a lot when I arrived here. A week ago.

Lucky for me, Alex doesn't really know my family or anything about my old life which is good and refreshing. It's nice being somewhere where nobody knows you and where people don't point fingers in your direction or cause rumors about you- somewhere where I can finally, finally breath and be free, never asking for permission to live life.

“That was. . . fucking hilarious! Oh god! I watched for a whole three minutes!” He burst out.

I fold my arms and roll my eyes, smiling at his laughter and then I playfully shove at his shoulder, expecting this reaction from him.

“It wasn't that funny, relax.”

“You know it was more than funny!”

He starts laughing again, clutching his stomach. “And also when he tried reaching for you over the bar!” He adds afterwards, laughing harder.

I slap hard at his back as he hunches over. “You don't even sound like a twenty one year old. You should like a tween that's currently going through his pube- ow! That hurts.” I pout but a slap at my hand cuts off my obvious teasing.

“Get back to work, peasant!” He playfully orders.

I smirk at him, proudly flashing him my middle finger before strolling back towards my workplace and notice the guy from earlier is long gone and I sigh in relief.

E N D   F L A S H B A C K

I hear voices ringing all around me but I can't focus on any one right now because the painful jabs attacking my insides. It feels like I'm being ripped apart. All these voices urging and screaming for me to push, with Jasmine and an almost fainting Alex by my side, squeezing my hands tightly. . . I push my final and last push.

And then,

I hear it, it takes a few long seconds.

But I hear the faint sounds of a little baby.

“It's a baby, Collins, congratulations!” The doctor beams.

A tired, lazily happy smile graces my face as I hold my arms open for my little bundle of joy that's neatly wrapped up in a warm little blue blanket, sleeping his tiny life away.

I don't realize I'm crying until I look down at him again and notice little water droplets on his blanket and immediately shut up, not wanting to wake my little guy up just yet because he needs all the rest he can get right now.

“This is the cutest little baby I've ever seen in my whole life, aww, look at him.” Jasmine softly coos, excitement and amusement dancing across her pretty features as she stares at the little baby.

My eyes move over to my other bestfriend and I stifle a laugh, “Alex, are you okay buddy?” I ask.

There was so much happening and my mind was a bit fuzzy when I was pushing and in pain but I swear, I saw Alex passing out in the midst of it all.

His eyes are wide. “Y- yeah. It's just. . . his so tiny!” He quietly murmurs, shocked and awed.

I smile, nodding in agreement, I look back at the baby, feeling my heart warming. “He is perfect.” I whisper, gently running my finger across his soft cheek.

Jasmine nudges my head a little. “Have you thought of a name?” She questions, smiling brightly and her eyes twinkle under the low lighting. “I know we've talked about it before but. . . have you?”

Still, smiling widely. I don't remove my eyes from the gorgeous boy in my arms. I slowly nod my head yes, knowing full well what I name him as tears sting my eyes- it's something that I always spoke about to him. “My little prince,” I whisper, lifting him up and bending a little, I press a gentle kiss on his pale forehead before looking back at both of my wide, curious eyed friends.

“Guys, meet my Archer Collins.” I introduce, smiling.