Author's Note:Thank you upfront for your patience as you waited for this update. I took an unscheduled but much-needed mental hiatus. Do not fret though, because I am back in full force and ready to continue on with this story. Lots will happen so buckle your seatbelt and keep an open mind!
Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 17)
I've fallen out of favour
And I've fallen from grace
Fallen out of trees
And I've fallen on my face
Fallen out of taxis
Out of windows too
Fell in your opinion
When I fell in love with you…
Sometimes I wish for falling
Wish for the release
Wish for falling through the air
To give me some relief,
Because falling's not the problem
When I'm falling, I'm at peace
It's only when I hit the ground
It causes all the grief…
This is a song for a scribbled out name
And my love keeps writing again and again
This is a song for a scribbled out name
And my love keeps writing again and again and again and again and again and again and again…
I dance myself up
Drunk myself down
Found people to love
Left people to drown
I'm not scared to jump
I'm not scared to fall
If there was nowhere to land,
I wouldn't be scared at all…
Sometimes I wish for falling
Wish for the release
Wish for falling through the air
To give me some relief,
Because falling's not the problem
When I'm falling I'm at peace
It's only when I hit the ground
It causes all the grief….
(Falling ~ Florence + the Machine)
Friday, October 21, 2022
9:38 PM
"Another drink?"
Santana Lopez was too lost in thought to hear the question. She had been sitting on the end stool, nearest the door, steadily numbing her senses for the past hour and a half. As she sat there, she absentmindedly poked at the ice in her glass with a tiny straw.
"Hello in there," a cute girl with short and spiky, magenta hair said as she knocked on the large wooden bar, "Want a fresh one?"
Santana finally looked up, her glazed eyes slowly focusing on the older face of the bartender, and nodded.
"Sticking with Jack and Coke?" the bartender gestured toward Santana whose face lacked any expression.
"Double Jack…," the Latina answered quickly, her words were garbled when she added, "…hold the Coke this time."
The bartender smiled knowingly, having seen Santana in the bar several times over the past few weeks, agreeing, "Sure thing."
Santana set the straw on the damp, white napkin under her glass then picked it up and drained the last bit of liquid, spitting an ice cube back in the glass before setting it down.
She rubbed her palms on the legs of her jeans to wipe off moisture before she reached into the front pocket and pulled out some folded cash. The Latina looked back over her shoulder toward the door as it opened and a group of younger girls entered. Her gaze followed them as they laughed and playfully elbowed each other, walking over toward an oversized, round booth in the corner of the bar and all pushing in to sit down.
The buzz Santana had going was rather strong but was still not enough to anesthetize her from the tug in her chest at the sight of seemingly-happy people…happy people who were out on a Friday night to have fun. She swallowed hard and turned back around as the bartender returned in front of her.
"Double Jack, no Coke," the girl confirmed with a wink, setting the fresh drink in front of Santana, "That'll be $14."
The friendly bartender paused as the younger brunette counted the money in her hand. Santana had a wad of cash in her pocket when she first walked around the corner and into the neighborhood lesbian bar, but she was now down to a five and three ones. The brunette fanned out the last bit of money she had, looking up at the older girl.
"Maybe you should've kept it a single," the bartender joked to cover Santana's obvious uneasiness.
"No…no," Santana fidgeted on the round seat under her, setting the money on the counter and assuring the woman, "I can cover it."
She reached back into her pocket to pull out a plastic card, handing it over hesitantly, "Here…just run a tab."
The debit card was the only method of payment Santana had available since Brittany left two weeks ago, and she had been shrewd about when and where she used it. She only used it when she went by the grocery store or the coffee shop or at the pharmacy, drawing cash back from each transaction. The Latina was convinced her method was solid and Brittany would never find out about her taking the cash immediately to the liquor store or the bar each time.
The bartender smiled again and took the card from Santana, "Gotcha. Be right back."
Santana looked back over her shoulder at the booth of young lesbians, and she swallowed hard at the paired-off couples who were cuddling and kissing each other. The last thing Santana wanted tonight was to confirm with a debit charge that she was out drinking at the bar even though, ever since her wife walked out, drinking at the bar was her main activity other than drinking alone in the darkness of her apartment.
Santana took the small straw out of the glass and calmed herself with a long sip of the strong drink, enjoying the heat from the smooth liquid as it coated her throat on its way down, her troubles quickly washing away.
"Bad news, love…it was declined," the bartender grimaced as she laid the blue plastic card on the dark wood of the bar, "Enjoy that one on me…then you better call it a night."
"But…I don't understand…," the dark-haired beauty mentally scrambled, "I…I used it yesterday…at the store."
The bartender shrugged and wiped at her work station with a white cloth, "Call your bank in the morning, I guess. Sometimes they place weird holds."
"Thanks," Santana remembered to say to her, taking another sip of the hard liquor.
"No problem," the older girl smiled sympathetically then turned away.
Santana suddenly felt very jittery, the exact opposite of how she anticipated feeling by this point in the evening. Would Brittany cut me off…just like that, she thought to herself…Why would she do that?
She pulled out her cell phone and laid it on the top of the bar, her hand hovering nervously over the screen as she tried to decide if she should call her wife.
The Latina heard the bartender say to another customer, "What can I get you?"
"Bud Light," a light-haired girl responded, leaning into the wood of the bar.
"You got it," the bartender acknowledged and tossed the white cloth over her left shoulder as she walked to the other end.
The girl drummed her fingertips on the countertop as she waited, glancing casually over at Santana who happen to look up at the same time, making eye contact.
"Hi," the girl said in a friendly manner.
Santana forced a half-smile and gave a small nod of her head before taking a long swallow to finish her drink.
The girl was around the same age as Santana and was equally attractive. She wore a t-shirt with a v-neck that showed off her cleavage and a rope necklace with a cool silver pendant. Her smile widened and her hazel-colored eyes lit up as her gaze moved subtly from Santana's face down her shapely form to her brown-skinned hands which were still wrapped tightly around her glass.
The bartender returned momentarily and set a brown bottle in front of the girl, "Anything else?"
The girl handed over some cash and motioned toward Santana's empty glass, "A refill?"
"Sure," the bartender chuckled, shaking her head as she put the money in the cash register behind her before picking up the bottle of whisky.
"Thank you," Santana replied with a bigger smile toward the girl when the bartender poured more alcohol in her glass.
"No worries. You look like you're having a rough day," the girl said casually, raising the volume of her voice to speak over the music playing in the background.
"Yeah…rotten," Santana confirmed with a slight laugh, picking up her glass and taking another sip.
"I'm sorry," the girl frowned, taking a seat on the stool next to the brunette, "Mind if I join you?"
The Latina hesitated a second, instinctively reaching to twist the wedding band on her left ring finger before remembering she had not worn it in weeks. She sighed and said, "Sure."
"I'm Charlotte," she told Santana, lifting the beer bottle to her lips for a swallow.
"Santana," the dark-haired beauty reciprocated the introduction, appreciative to the girl for supplying a distraction as much as for supplying the drink. The Latina took a deep breath and stuffed her phone back inside the pocket of her jeans, taking another sip and feeling somewhat more composed.
"Well, Santana…I have a rule that I won't let anyone drink alone when they're having a rotten day," Charlotte informed her, clicking her bottle against Santana's glass.
Santana took another sip and smiled back at the girl.
Saturday, October 22, 2022
12:23 AM
"Thanks, man," Grayson Knox handed cash to the cab driver before pushing out and shutting the yellow door behind him.
The moon was bright overhead as he stepped around a parked car and up onto the sidewalk near his apartment building, pulling his keys from his side pocket and pausing on the front steps.
"Santana?" he acknowledged one of the two females who were trying to unlock the front door of the building.
The darker-haired female turned toward the sound of his voice. "Heeey, Gray!" she responded loudly, reaching up to pat his shoulder.
"Hey back," Grayson put an arm out to steady the Latina's stance.
"This is Grayson…my neighbor…neighbor, neighbro…he's my neighbro," Santana laughed hysterically at her own joke, falling further into Grayson's muscular form, hugging him, "We're bros…right, Gray? Best buds."
"Right," he responded, "Best buds for sure." He could smell the alcohol on Santana's breath if her words and mannerisms were not enough of an indication of how drunk she was.
"This is…," the brunette tried to introduce the other girl, "…um…sorry, what did you say your name is?"
"Charlotte," the light-haired girl responded in a much-less drunken manner.
"Yeah, Charlotte," Santana repeated with a pause, not recalling that being the name of the girl she just spent the last three hours with, "Charlotte was helping me home. Isn't that nice of her, Gray?"
"Very," Grayson answered, leaning forward to put his key in the lock, "Thank you, Charlotte. I've got it from here though. Goodnight."
The tall blond finished unlocking and opening the entry door, stepping past the other girl and pulling Santana up the remaining step and into the building.
"Goodnight, Charlotte," the Latina waived back at the attractive girl.
"Oh, here's your phone. I saved my number in it," Charlotte said and handed the phone to Santana with a smile, "Give me a call sometime."
"Oops need that," Santana giggled, tripping over the raised portion of the doorframe.
"Goodnight," Grayson repeated toward the disappointed girl, shutting the door quickly.
"She's nice," Santana slurred, "And pretty…huh?"
"Let's get you upstairs," Grayson put his strong arm around Santana's slim waist and lifted her up the first couple of steps.
As they climbed, Santana rambled, "She looks a little like Britt, huh? Her hair kinda…not her eyes though. Britt's eyes are sooo blue…such a beautiful blue…like the ocean…on a warm day. Beautiful…like her."
"I know you miss her," Grayson tightened his grip around Santana, trying to keep the two of them moving up the long climb to the sixth floor.
"She left me," Santana's tone changed instantly to anger, "I needed her, and she left me."
"Call her and tell her that," he suggested.
"She knows she left, Grayson," Santana snapped.
"Does she know that you need her?"
Santana stopped moving and pulled away from him. "She hates me now. Do you know what she did?"
Grayson stopped too and looked down at the angry brunette. "What did she do?"
"She cut me off. She cut off my debit card," the alcohol was inciting Santana's bitterness, "She wants me to suffer."
"I doubt that," he sighed heavily, knowing Brittany would never intentionally hurt her wife, then got them moving again up the next flight of stairs.
"I have no money, Gray," Santana stated, tripping every two or three steps, "I have no way to pay for anything."
Grayson helped her keep her balance.
"What about when I need food?" she asked, her rising voice echoing in the open stairwell.
"Then I'll take you shopping. We'll get you whatever you need," Grayson assured her calmly.
"I need money," she stopped abruptly in front of him, specifying, "Cash."
"Then get a job. You're self-sufficient…and talented as hell," he said adamantly, "Call your agent. Go on some auditions."
"It's not that easy," Santana protested, gesturing broadly.
"True…you'd have to sober up first," he retorted.
Santana turned in a huff and stumbled up the next couple of stairs before Grayson caught her by the arm, keeping her from falling to the floor of the fifth floor landing.
"San, stop…I'm sorry," he told her.
She faced him again, her words still slurring, "Fuck you, Grayson. The doors don't just open for girls like me. I'm not Rachel Berry."
"You're right, you're not. You are Santana Lopez-Pierce," he reminded, "I've seen you perform on stage…and you were absolutely amazing."
Santana looked at him, his words of encouragement filtering through the haze of liquor in her head. The expression on her face changed from irritation to opportunity as she enticed, "Then you pay me."
"What?" he said in confusion.
"You…pay…me," she moved closer to him, running a finger down the center of his chest, beguiling, "I'll dance and sing for you, and you pay me…cash."
Grayson let out an awkward laugh, pulling her hand away from his belt. "Uhh…no."
"Geez, Gray…lighten up," Santana turned, moving toward the front door of the apartment, "How about a drink then?"
He walked up behind her and took her hand off the doorknob, "That's not my door, dear…and you've had plenty to drink tonight."
"Come on, Grayson," she turned into his body and looked up at him, "One little drink. I won't leave you disappointed."
"No," he said firmly, pulling her toward the staircase that led to her apartment on the next floor.
"Why not? I'm very sexy, I'll have you know!"
"I know you are, Santana. I also know you are very drunk…and very married," Grayson confirmed as he bent slightly and hoisted the Latina over his broad shoulder, adding, "…and so very, very gay."
Grayson walked up the remaining flight of stairs holding tightly to a feisty, kicking Latina. When he reached the door to apartment 6C, he used Santana's keys to unlock it.
He moved across the darken interior, pausing to turn on the living room lamp, then tossed Santana butt-first onto her bed.
"You need sleep," he told her with a paternal tone, "and tomorrow, instead of getting shit-faced all over again…how about you clean up this place a little. It smells like a frat house during rush week in here."
As he spoke, he moved around the small apartment, picking up a couple of moldy, white Chinese take-out containers from the coffee table and tossing them into the silver garbage can.
He then set up on the kitchen counter a large pizza box he found in the middle of the floor. He took an empty wine bottle from the kitchen table and two empty liquor bottles from the sink and threw those away too before he opened the refrigerator to see what food Santana had available.
"First you reject me…refuse to be a fucking gentleman and offer me a goddamn drink…then you insult my housekeeping?" Santana yelled from the far side of the room.
Grayson did not see much of anything edible but removed a carton of milk from the fridge and smelled it. "Ugh," he involuntarily reacted then poured out the soured milk in the sink, washing it away with fresh water from the tap, "When is the last time you ate real food?"
"I eat real food, you ass," she shouted, throwing one of her black boots across at him as he moved toward the front door, "Don't talk to me like I'm some child."
He opened the front door then stepped out in the hallway, hiding a half-empty liquor bottle behind his leg, before turning back toward her and saying, "Go ahead and get rid of all your frustration tonight, Santana…then put on your pajamas, brush your teeth, and go to sleep."
"Get out!" she demanded.
"Goodnight, Santana," he said, shutting the door as her other black boot hit it. He locked the two deadbolts from the outside and put her key ring in his pocket then walked down the stairs to his apartment.
Author's Note: I also wanted to thank so many of you for your reviews and words of support after my AN at the end of the last chapter. You have no idea what it means to me as an author to have the faith of my readers, especially when the subject matter is difficult and dark. I wish I could hug each and every one of y'all. I do promise you this story will come full-circle in one form or another. Thanks, Kim