You and Tequila

Chapter Twenty-Four

The next four weeks were a chaotic blur to Emma. She spent her weekdays with Henry and weekends working for Regina. With each passing week, she was struggling with the idea of leaving Regina alone after the weekend was over while dreading a new weekend altogether.

Each time she arrived, it was the same scenario playing out over and over again. She would find Regina a heap of mess on the bathroom floor, intoxicated and passed out. She would spend the next hour or so cleaning the singer up and applying as much war paint as possible to hide away the pain.

What she hated most of all, was the way Regina would become violent and try to fight her and Ruby away at first. It would never last long. Regina would always end up apologizing profusely and wanting to shower Emma with affection and all the emotions flying around always left Emma dizzy and more discombobulated by the second.

Emma had begged and pleaded like a homeless child in search of a few scraps, for Regina to check herself into a real facility. Of course, Cora's manipulative power won, yet again, and in the end Regina was shipped to Maine for her seventh time. Seven times and this woman still has yet to find peace.

"Two, 312's!" The man shouts over the overpopulated bar with his forearms resting on the sticky counter below.

Emma quirks up one eyebrow playfully as she reaches into the cooler below and pulls out the requested beer bottles.

"She's actually letting you buy her a drink?" She teases the man, but he just laughs in return and slaps a crisp twenty down on the bar top.

"She must be pitying my awkward sense of humor and social cues," he chuckles along, accepting his beer and wandering off without his change.

She's been keeping busy at a local bar while Regina's been away. It helps distract her from the worry and wandering thoughts of what if's. It's a nicer sports bar than she's used to and she's not going to deny how much she's enjoying the hefty tips from all the single men desperate for a one-night stand. It's only been two weeks, but she has stashed away every penny for her and her mother's big move.

There's a strong vibration that's been rattling in her back pocket ever since her shift started two hours ago. Discreetly, she checks her back pocket, just barely lifting the phone out of the tight denim before she reads, Jefferson. She groans from the sinking sensation in her chest and shoves the device way down deep.

"Hey, Lacey?" Emma leans into the woman's back while this sexy little brunette with the most adorable Australian accent leans back against her chest. The blue-eyed beauty continues shaking out her martinis while flashing her most flirtatious smile at a group of older gentlemen drooling from across the counter. "I need to make a phone call," Emma whispers into her ear. "Can you handle the bar for five minutes?"

"Does a stripper shake her titties?" Emma's face contorts into painfully dumb, while Lacey's baby blues roll dramatically. "Yes. Yes, I can handle the bar. Now, go," the woman grins wildly and pours out two martinis to perfection without skipping a bit.

"Thanks, you're the best," Emma cheers before she darts out the back door into the dark and bitter cold alley.

She welcomes the sharp fall bite with open arms because she was just suffocating moments ago from the sticky heat of the rambunctious bar. She yanks out her phone, taking one last calming breath and quickly calls Jefferson back, mindlessly pacing the narrow alleyway.

"Swan!"

"H-hey, Jefferson..."

"Listen honey, I need you here in Maine. Like tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Are you insane?" She balks, completely blindsided by the demand that interrupted her job.

"Come on, I'm going to send Regina's private jet and a limo to take you to the airport," he dutifully rambles off, as though they have spoken about this plan time and time again, yet she must have fallen with a bad case of amnesia.