Tortured - Jaele

C H A P T E R | O N E

                                 • R I E L E  •

"Okay bitches, we need an Uber so who's it gonna be?"

Maeve slurred when she rummaged through the bottom of her clutch for lipgloss. We were standing outside the club in the alleyway Ella just had to pee in.

"Not Miss. Corporate USA who only dates the richest most unattainable in New York asking for a handout.  You just hated to see me getting all the good ones tonight... huh?"

Ella shot back, her voice laced with tipsy revenge as she walked back over to us.

"Better the richest most handsome than the brokest and most homeless looking..."

Maeve retorted with a sugary smile. Their words sloshed together as I scrolled through my phone, the buzz of alcohol making my movements clumsy and whimsical. Missed call from mom. A robotic happy birthday text from Reiya. Several apology text from Tyson. I swiped past them and buried the note of sadness they carried deep down into my chest. Not tonight. Tonight was about me, and I wanted forget. Everything. Everything but the party, the dancing, the music throbbing through the soles of my feet and my friends drunk rendition of "Happy Birthday".

"I don't have enough on my card for a Big Mac, so I'm definitely out."

Ella hiccuped, swaying slightly. She clutched a half-empty Corona bottle in one hand and a lemon drop vape in the other.

"Didn't expect you to put up anything anyways per usual, El."

Maeve snapped, leaning down to readjust the strap of her heel. Her gaze was sharper than steel when she looked up. I tried to block out the carnage but I was somewhere between blissfully ignorant and extremely exhausted.

"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean? I have plenty of money- Maliboob. It's just... in flux."

Ella's voice shifted cautiously as she took a threatening step towards Maeve, who bristled at the use of the hated nickname Ella gave her when a wardrobe malfunction caused nips lips and chaos inside the club. A dozen shots later and I sensed they were about to be at each other's throats. Bacardi and these bitches just don't mix.

"Oh yeah, where is it? Show me!"

Maeve reached over to yank at her pockets and Jimmy Choo purse.

"Don't worry your perky little tits about that babe."

Ella tossed a balled up napkin at her, swatting her hands away.

"Aren't you tired of being poor?"

Maeve asked in a low voice after she dodged the napkin and titled her head.

"Aren't you tired of being a jealous money hungry slut?"

"Okayyy, Ella don't call her a slut and Maeve lay off of her financial choices. Let's just calm down, please. Come on."

I moaned, stepping between them as they exchanged death stares, I saw the beginning of their claws come out towards each other and if I didn't step in things were about to get ugly. The last thing I wanted was to end up wrenching them apart in my new birthday dress and these painful heels.

"She's not worth it."

Ella cut her Tiffany-box blue eyes away from Maeve and forced a smile for me.

"Don't worry about the ride, I've got it. There will be no blood shed tonight it's only my birthday weekend."

I said, quickly ordering an uber before someone ended up dead on the side of the street. I tucked my phone under my arm to give Ella and Maeve a warning look.