The Art of Misconception

A Gin and Tonic to drown your sorrows

*AN- Photo of Tamera (Tammy) attached.  This is a new story I am trying out, hope you all like it.

I come home, drop my keys on the counter and go in to see my mum. She is where she has been for the last few weeks; Sat in her study with her head in her hands. "How bad is it Mum?" I croak. We've been sailing on rocky waters recently. We're basically losing everything we've got.

"We can't afford any of them now, we may even have to sell the house." She sighs.

I curse under my breath, "Is there anything we can do? How much do we owe the bank? Maybe if we lower the price of the mansion again we could sell it. An-and the shop. We can sell grandad's shop." My brain raced, we can't lose the house as well.

"I've already emailed the agent the shop will be on the market by the end of the week. But even if we sell it we can't pay off our debts." Her voice shakes. This house is too important, to both of us.

"Shit. How did we even get here?" I say more to myself than anyone else.

My mum finally turns around to look at me, I can tell she hasn't slept. She looks older. The lines on her face more defined. She pulls her lips tight, "Honestly honey, I don't know."

I snatch my keys from the counter and head back out through the doors. I swing open the door of my car and turn the keys. My mind races on all the possibilities but right now there is nothing I can think of that will be able to keep us afloat to the end of the year. And that scares me. It scares me more than the thought of a zombie apocalypse. The worst thing is there is nothing I can do to help. Nothing I can do to save me and my mother. That powerless feeling scares me more than anything else.

I drive into the city, my mind not really focused on the road. I pull into a quiet bar lit up by a small glowing sign which said 'G ey's bar' because the 'r' was broken. I leave the car parked badly, like really badly. I walk through the double doors and sit on a stool at the bar. Now, I know I am not technically old enough to be in a bar as I am only eighteen, but I know the right people. "Tammy, you know I can't serve you without any ID."

"Sampson, please I am having a really bad day." I say, I know I am basically asking him to put his job on the line for me but I am feeling like shit.

He understands that I am not in the mood to be arguing and he won't win if he tries, "How about I get myself a drink and leave it right over here?" He raises an eyebrow, I smile in return. "Now what do I want to drink?"

I stretch my arm out in front of me, "I think you are looking for something to drown your sorrows in."

He nods, and turns to grab a glass but before he goes to fill it he turns back, "Do you want to talk about it?"

I push my dark hair behind my shoulders, "I really don't."

He gives me a small smile, "Very well." He goes off to make me some sort of concoction.

I look around, there aren't many people here. Two bikers in the corner, a man in his thirties and me. I fiddle with the silver bracelet around my wrist, until Sampson returns with a glass filled with clear liquid with a slice of lime in it. "What is it?" I ask examining the glass.

"It's a gin and tonic. It's pretty strong so you're only having one" I nod. I take a sip and screw my face up. This is gross. Why do people drink this? "Don't give me that look, it is for drowning sorrows."

"I have never heard of anyone ordering a gin and tonic because it was good for drowning their sorrows, from what I've heard vodka does a better job."

"You've obviously been hanging out with the wrong people." He smirked. Sampson was the only one working tonight, so he left to go pick up dirty glasses from the bikers table.

I sculled down the gin and tonic. Afterwards I was a little bit dazed but otherwise completely fine. It was getting late so I decided not to hang around. Carefully I jump of the stool at the bar and wave at Sampson, before going back outside to my car.

I drove home the long way home, through the city then back out towards home. The car drives down a quiet road with no street lamps, I turn up the radio to hear some kind of techno music. I speed up on the straight. Suddenly out of nowhere there is a deer on the road. Hit the brake. But it's too late. I won't stop in time.

I swerve to avoid it. My precious car battles through a white fence onto someone's lawn. I slammed forward and hit my head on the steering wheel. Leaning back I take in my surroundings. How could I be so stupid? I don't move for a moment. It hits me, I am sat in someone's garden.

A group of people hurry out. A woman in a black silk dressing gown swings my door open but is quickly moved by a man in a business suit. I undo my seat-belt and try to get out. "Are you ok?" the woman askes frantic. I nod. I am absolutely fine, I'm more worried about the smoke coming out of the bonnet of my car.

"What's your name?" An older man, with strong eyes and a large birthmark on his neck, askes also wearing a suit.

I answer, "Tamera Reeve." The old man sends two men back into the house. "I am so sorry," I apologize. I run my hand through my hair. This is bad. This is really bad. What if my car is ruined? I can't afford another one. Oh god, what if they sue me? These thoughts bombard my mind.

The lady comes and drags me through the garden, inside. The house is beautiful, everything is red and white and clearly very expensive. She sits me down on a stool in the kitchen and hurries off to get a first aid kit for my head, apparently there is a cut. I sit patiently admiring the kitchen, it's like one of those you would see on an advert.

Behind me I hear people talking in low voices, "What did you find out about her?" the older man in the suit asked one of the men he sent inside. I turn my head back, so I'm no longer looking at them and strain my ears to hear them.

"Eighteen. Grandad died leaving her and her mother with a big net worth, most of which is properties they have sold or are on sale. There is a big debt. It keeps getting bigger and there is no money left. She made it into a lot of colleges some good ones, but didn't go because they couldn't afford it."

"Any criminal record?"

"No, sir"

The older man thanks him and tells him to get somebody. Why are they interested in me? I swallow the lump in my throat and try to keep my composure.

The woman rushes back in and lays her first aid kit on the kitchen counter. "Have you been drinking?" She asks very calmly, I look down and she accepts that as my answer. She cleans up the small cut above my eyebrow, it stings a little but I hardly notice, I am too caught up in worrying about what these people may want with me. "All done," she says, proud of her handiwork. "Make yourself comfortable, do you want a drink or anything?"

"Oh no thank you, I should be getting home."

"No I think you should get comfortable," The old man in the suit says, "I have a proposal for you."