Something Special

Chapter 18

Tara was hollow. She didn't feel mad or worried. She didn't feel sad or skittish. She just felt empty. The walk to Ruccardi's was uneventful. Her brain phased out, her feet carrying her numb body. She walked into the staff bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. She still had 10 minutes till her shift began so she redid her makeup. She then leaves and enters the restaurant itself. It was packed. She knew she was gonna be run of her feet. Good. Less time to spare, less time to think about him.

She was on tables. She races back and fro from the kitchen to the table, forcing a grin. She had been working for half an hour when the shouts began. Rolling her eyes, Tara continues her works. Probably some famous twat coming in her and making her life hell. Woo. "So that's the Lasagne with garlic bread and Pizza Marina. Can I get you more wine or are you alright?"
"We're fine." The couple were looking deeply into each others eyes with such love it made Tara want to vomit. She thanks the couple and takes away their menus.

"Hey David! What's going on?" Tara asks the manager.
"Alex Cross." Tara's heart stops.
"Alex Cross." She repeats, her eyes snapping into super clear focus. "Yes Tara. He's at the bar." As if sensing my tension he frown. "But don't go harassing him. Get him whatever he wants, it's on the house. And Tara. Just you. I think you can keep your cool around him." The reality was just the opposite. Another waitress came and took over her table and Tara walks slowly over to the bar.

He was hunched over, his jacket draped over the bar stool. She carefully walks behind the bar, wiping her sweaty hands on her apron. "What can I get you?" She asks quietly. He looks up.
"Tara." He begins but she puts her hand up. "Drinks only." he nods and orders a beer. Tara pours a larger and goes to serve another person. Alex sits brooding at the bar, finishing his drink and ordering another one in rapid succession.

"Jack Daniels and coke." the young girls says, her cherry red lips forming the words precisely. "ID?" Tara asks, feeling Alex's eyes on her. The girls mouth parts and she licks her lips. "Yeh. Um, here it is." She fumbles with her ID. She was 26 apparently. "Sorry. When did you say your birthday was?" Her lips form the words. "1989." She whispers. Tara shakes her head. "Before you use your fake ID. Make sure you know when your birthday is. It would save you from a lot of hassle."
"Hey sweetheart." Alex's voice carried across the bar. Both girls look up. He gesture with a finger. "Blondie. I'll buy you a drink. Get her a vodka lemonade. And make it double." the young girl flutters her clumped eyelashes at him and blushes. "Oh, thanks." She sashays over to him. "Mr Cross." She smiles flirtatiously. Tara snarls. "Watch it Alex." the blond girl covers her moth with her hand.

"How dare you talk to Alex Cross like that?!" She seemed distressed just at the thought. Tara turns her anger towards her. "If you don't leave this restaurant right now, I will call the police and have you down for underage drinking. Do I make myself clear." she was deadly calm. The girl practically ran out of the bar. "Why you got to do that?!" He was slurring his words.
"Alex. Why are you here?" Her voice still held that deadly calm. He waves his now empty beer bottle. "To drink." He says. Tara puffs her breath out and sighs. "Well I can't stop you doing that." and she gets him another drink.

................................................................

She looked beautiful. The dim lights of the bar made the blonde girls hair shimmer like diamonds. Alex had been kicked out if Ruccardis twenty minutes ago and was now sat in a dingy bar, his body guard searching fruitlessly for him outs his usual haunts. Alex raises his hand and the barmaid passed him another jaeger bomb. "Down the hatch." she says in her rough London accent. He does just that, enjoying the burning sensation it gives. He glances at the telly in the corner and watches the rugby match intently, silently cheering on the Glaswegian team. After 3 failed tries, he gave up watching and stared at the barmaids breast. They were beautiful too. "What's your name?" He slurs, taking another swig on his bottle of beer. "Whitney. I know who you are. You're Alex Cross. Me an my friends watched your movie the other day."
"Oh yeh. What did you think?" He frowns when he realises his bottle was empty and signals for another one. The girl bites her lip and smiles sensually. "I think you looked proper fit without your top on." Alex smiles. This was gonna be a fun night.

2 hours later

"WE LIKE TO DRINK WITH ALEX, CUS ALEX IS OUR MATE. HE DRINKS IN MODERATION AND GETS IT DOWN IT 8, 7, 6, 5, 4. WAYYYY!" Alex was on top of a Poole table with a pitcher of larger in his hand and a roughly rolled joint in another. He'd just downed half the hug and was attempting to finish it. Admittedly, half of it was down his front. Once he finished the last drop he threw it down and stumbled down to the floor. "Oi, Whitney. Drinks on me." he throws down a wad of notes and beams. "Drink up faggots!" The crowd cheer and starts a mad frenzy of ordering, all screaming Alex's name. Someone actually picks Alex up and swings him around.

It was well past 2am when Alex stumbled out of the dingy bar, now alive with cheers and rowdy choruses of Queens Bohemian Rhapsody. The young boy fishes his cars keys out and drops them into a puddle. He stands and stares at them for a little while, giggling at his stupidity. He then picks them up and clumsily unlocks his sparkling black Audi. He sits with his hands in the steering wheel for a little while, his brain doing slow circles. There was girl he was supposed to be thinking about. Tara, he thinks. How was she? Maybe he could go see her. She'd want to see him. Wouldn't she? Alex tries to remember what had happened earlier that night. They'd had an argument. Though he couldn't remember what about. Probably something silly. Yes, Alex thinks. I'll go visit her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that de don't know where Tara actually lived. Ah well.

He starts up his car, not bothering with his seatbelt. He pulls onto a main road that in the day was buzzing. Now the only traffic was the odd taxi, hoarding the masses of drunks home. His driving was sloppy, his vision blurred. By a strange sort of miracle he makes it out of the busy city, onto a small winding road. It was a county lane, just on the outskirts of London. There were houses dotted up and down the road, mostly cottages. It was quaint. This was Alex's last thought as closes his eyes. He hadn't seen the bend in the road, nor the upcoming tree. He hadn't realised he was going way too fast. In fact, he was unconscious even before his car hit the tree at 80 mph.