Chapter 3 Leaving Los Angeles
But the Jeep had already driven away by the time he finished speaking.
He sighed.
She was the antidote to what he had been going through.
He walked back to his Kawasaki Ninja, parked on the other side of the road. He twisted the throttle and sped away. The heavy sound reverberated through the quiet streets.
The porch light was still on when she stumbled out of the Jeep, her heels dangling from one hand.
Her dress was wrinkled, and her mind was still fogged by the drinks, the kiss, and everything else the night had thrown at her.
“Be careful, madam,” Andrew warned.
She turned around and shot him a hard glare, before pushing against the towering front door.
The living room light snapped on the second she stepped inside.
“Do you know what time it is?”
Her father's voice cut through the stillness of the night.
He was standing by the couch, arms crossed, still in his suit like he'd been waiting up for hours.
He probably had been waiting for her after sending his guards to pick her up from the café.
“Dad, I…”
“Look at you.”
His eyes scanned her, taking in her smudged makeup, her scraped knees, and the way she was swaying even while standing still.
“You're drunk. You reek of alcohol, Emma!” her father shouted.
“I had a bad night,” she said, covering her mouth as she belched and staggered backward.
“A bad night.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“So you now take to alcohol after work, huh?” he said, looking at her face.
He moved closer to her. Standing in front of her, she stumbled backward a little from his menacing aura.
“So you have now reduced my name to small cafés.
Heavy alcohol. Staying out late in the night.
You now drink, Emma,” he said, his voice roaring through the large parlour.
“The café now calls me to pay your bills and pick you up, Emma.”
He ran his hands through his hair.
“You don't understand, Dad.”
“I don't understand?” His voice rose, sharp enough that she flinched.
“I raised you better than this, Emma. You don't usually run to bottles here and now, partying in the night.”
“That's not what happened.”
“Then tell me what happened, Emma!”
She opened her mouth, then closed it.
How could she even begin to explain?
The firing.
Logan.
Lucy.
The strange man.
There was too much, and none of it would make sense to him, not tonight, not like this.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered instead.
“I didn't mean for it to get this bad,” she said, shaking her head. Her body ached. She hoped he would just let her go.
“You know what? You can go, ’cause right now I see that you are sick.”
He picked up the remote and switched the station.
Emma stumbled into her room. Her head spinning, she dropped onto the bed, her hair spread all over her face.
She fell asleep.
---
The bright morning sun seeped through the translucent curtain, landing across the bed.
Her eyes flew open. She sat up, and memories from the previous night came rushing back.
The café.
The stranger.
Putting her hands on her lips, she remembered the kiss. Then she remembered when Andrew took her away.
She stood up quickly and rushed downstairs.
Looking down from the first floor, she saw Andrew standing in the parlour with two other men, all wearing black suits.
She looked around for her father, but he wasn't there.
Andrew winked at her.
Her stomach churned.
She sighed.
“Andrew, where's Dad?” she asked, stepping down from the stairs.
“He is in his room, ma'am.”
“So you are finally awake, my drunk princess.”
Her father's voice cut through the room.
She stood still and glared at Andrew. He smiled.
Her father wasn't in his room.
Mr. Brooks walked out of the dining room holding his coffee.
He took his seat on the sofa and sighed.
“Dad, I'm sorry,” she muttered.
He looked up from his coffee.
“So, what will that change? The embarrassment you caused me or the fact that you dragged my name in the mud yesterday night?” he asked, his voice loud and infuriating.
Shaking his head, he looked over at Emma.
“Be grateful. This hasn't gotten to the headlines.”
At the mention of headlines, her head spun.
She also had something to lose if her name made it to the headlines for unnecessary reasons.
“Dad, I didn't mean to go that far,” she pleaded.
“Then why?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. He wondered why his dainty daughter would resort to alcohol.
“I found out Logan has been cheating on me,” she said quietly.
“And I lost my job.”
The last words came out heavily.
For a second, something in his face softened.
He was quiet for a long moment, his jaw working like he was chewing on his next words before he let them out.
“You need time away,” he said firmly.
“Away from this city, away from him, away from whatever mess your life has turned into.”
“What are you talking about, Dad?”
“You're going to stay with your grandmother for a while.”
Her stomach dropped.
“What? No. Dad, no, I want to stay here. I have my life here.”
“What life, Emma?” He laughed.
“You just told me you have no job and no boyfriend. There's nothing here for you to hold onto right now.”
“That's not true. My friends are here, my…”
She stopped.
What friend?
She had no friend. Logan was her best friend.
“You're going,” he said, and there was no room in his voice for argument.
“I have called her already. You leave in two days.”
“Dad, please.”
“This isn't a punishment,” he said, softer now, though it didn't feel soft at all.
“I just think you need to breathe somewhere that isn't this city for a while. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere you can think straight.”
“Save yourself the embarrassment of ruining your public image.”
She stood there, frozen, her whole world tilting sideways for the second time.
“I don't want to go,” she whispered.
