Accent Hussy (It Had 2 B U) (21 page)

I don’t know what to do, so I scream. All I can see is the tree heading straight in our direction. I ball myself up and start praying. I haven’t prayed since I was a little kid, but all I can do is plead that God will take care of me and let me survive this nightmare. That’s the last thing I remember before car meets bark.

An angry horn blares in my ears. The smell of smoke fills my nose, and I feel my body shaking. Carefully, I pry open one of my eyes. Keegan is yelling in my ear to wake up. He has a cut on his forehead and a worried expression on his face.

“Everly, wake up.”

“What happened?” I ask.

I’ve somehow ended up in the driver’s seat of my car. I don’t know how I got here, but I’m quite certain I wasn’t here when we left the bar.

“Oh good, ye be awake,” he breathes. “Ye got us in an accident,” he says a little frantic. “I told youse not to drive tonight.”

What is he talking about? I didn’t drive . . . did I? My head, back, and neck are in pain. Nothing is making sense. He was the one who said he was going to drive. He’s the one who left the pub, so why am I behind my steering wheel? I would never drive drunk. Never. “I didn’t drive.”

“That’s what you’re telling the cops. Sorry, Everly, but I can’t get arrested again. I’ll go to jail and I hate it in there.”

“What? You’ve been in jail.”

“Yes, quite a few times.” He looks around the car and opens the door. A couple passing cars start to slow down. “You’ll be fine. They won’t lock you up for this. If anything they will give you community service. Sorry Love, but I need to go.” He slams my door and before my eyes close again, I see him sprinting up the hill away from me and my accident.

I’m not sure how much time passes by before I feel someone shaking me again. “Miss, are you all right?”

“Where am I?” A bright light shines in my face. It takes me awhile before my eyes focus on the angry, yet concerned, face of a police officer. He frowns when I speak, and I realize I’m slurring my words.

“Have you been drinking tonight, Ma’am?” I nod weakly, slinking back into the chair. I wasn’t driving and yet it looks like I have been. This night was supposed to be perfect. Now I’m sitting in my wrecked car, my entire body feels broken, and I’m pretty sure I’m about to get arrested. Fucking Keegan.

The police officer walks to his vehicle and comes back with something in his hand. I can barely focus on him. When did more cops arrive? Does he have a twin?

He tells me to open my mouth and sticks some kind of machine inside.

“Blow.”

I do as he instructs and the machine beeps. He does a tsking noise with his mouth and tells me to get out of the vehicle. I think I’m moving, but the moment I try to get up from my seat, a shooting pain cripples my neck, making me howl in pain.

He says something into his shoulder and tells me not to move. I close my eyes, and before I know it, I’m passing out again. When I wake up I’m in the hospital and my mother is standing over me.

“Oh thank goodness, Everly. You’re awake!”

I try to sit up, but I’m fastened to a board. My mother smacks my shoulder and I wince.

“What on earth were you thinking, Everly? Drinking and driving? That was stupid and idiotic.” I hate the look of disappointment on her face. My mom has always been my biggest supporter. Even when I was an idiot in high school, she still was understanding and never gave me a look like the one she is giving me right now. She’s got tears in her eyes and she really looks terrified.

“You could have died, Everly. You almost gave me a heart attack!” She blots her eyes with a Kleenex and smears her make-up.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I wasn’t driving. At least, I don’t think I was driving.” I briefly remember Keegan being in the car with me, but everything from before I woke up has been extremely hazy.

“They found you behind the wheel. You totaled your car; wrapped it around a tree. They say you were going almost seventy in a forty-five. Your alcohol levels were off the charts. I don’t even know what to say I’m so angry with you.”

I open my mouth to defend myself when a police officer walks in. He’s tall and stalky with a good build and large shoulders. His hair is cut short to his head and it’s dark, like the color of cherry wood stain. He’s carrying a clipboard with a ticket on top.

“Miss McGowan, do you know what your alcohol consumption was tonight?”

I shake my head. I don’t remember much about tonight. Everything is fuzzy, including my head right now. It’s a dull headache, but one I am desperate to get rid of. “No, sir. I don’t remember anything after I left the bar.”

“The breathalyzer I ran on you came back with an extremely high alcohol content level, a point sixteen, the legal limit in Florida is point eight. You’re double the legal limit. If it wasn’t for your injuries, you would be sitting in jail right now.”

“I have injuries?”

“Yes, a mild concussion and some whiplash. The doctors are sending you home with your mother, but you will be having a court date very soon to determine your sentence. I am hereby charging you with a DUI and releasing you into your mother’s custody. Your license is temporarily revoked until your hearing. You are very lucky, Miss McGowan. Somebody was obviously looking out for your well-being tonight.”

He rips off a piece of paper and hands it to me.
Holy fuck! I can’t pay this. I look at all the zeroes and wince.
“Here’s your ticket. Your court hearing is set for Monday morning at eight o’clock. Please don’t be late.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And Everly,” I look up and meet his eyes. “No more driving while intoxicated, okay?”

“Yes, Sir.” I answer, looking back over at my mom. She won’t hold my gaze. She has to be upset with me.

The doctor comes in a few minutes later, not allowing me a chance to speak with my mother. He informs me of all the precautions I need to take and warning signs I need to look for in case my concussion gets worse. He prescribes me a muscle relaxer, some heavy-duty pain medication, and lots of rest. All of which sound amazing right about now. My mother helps me to the car, but doesn’t say a single word to me. She remains that way up until we pull into our driveway. I see Max’s vehicle out front. I’m about to get the biggest lecture of my life, but nothing is worse than what I’m getting from my mother right now.

I hate the silent treatment.

My mom helps me inside and Max rushes forward grabbing me in too tight of hug. He pulls on my neck and I cry out, causing him to drop his hold on me.

“What the hell, Everly, were you trying to get yourself killed? What were you doing driving drunk like that?”

“I . . . I . . .” I want to say I wasn’t driving, but so far, every single person I’ve said that to doesn’t believe me. So instead, I say, “I wasn’t thinking.” And I wasn’t. My judgment was clouded by a hot Irishman with a record—not to mention, a drinking problem and micro-penis. I should’ve listened to my damn head when it told me not to let him drive in the first place.

“Mom, please talk to me,” I plead.

She gives me a forlorn look and disappears into her bedroom. My father comes out, gives me a hug, looks at me with that same look of a disappointment and follows her back into the bedroom.
Well, congratulations, Everly. Your obsession with accents has officially caused a wedge between you and your family . . . You’re an idiot.

I look up at Max with tears in my eyes. He doesn’t look at me with disappointment like my parents, but he definitely looks concerned. He pulls me into another hug, this time with less squeeze. He kisses the top of my head. “When the police called, all they said was you were driving drunk and got into an accident. They thought you were dead.”

Tears stream down my face. I never wanted to cause my parents worry like that. They mean the world to me. The fact that they actually thought I was dead pretty much cripples me. I made a huge mistake, and I think my consequences might hurt worse than my actions. No amount of whiplash can make up for the pain my parents are feeling right now. It breaks me in two knowing that their sadness is all because of me.

Max helps me to my room and I crawl into my bed. He kisses my head one last time and tells me he loves me before leaving the room. I still don’t understand how I ended up behind that wheel. I’ve never driven drunk before, so I don’t know why I would start tonight.

My phone beeps and I almost ignore the text message. That is until I see Keegan’s name.

Keegan: Thanks for covering for me, Love. I owe you one. How about dinner? ;)

I grip the phone tightly in my hand and allow my tears to fall. Keegan must’ve put me into the driver’s seat of my vehicle. I wouldn’t drive drunk—not in a million years. I close my eyes and try to focus really hard on what happened. Brief snippets of the night play before me: A night of drinking at an Irish Pub. Keegan convincing me he was sober enough to drive. Keegan passing out behind the wheel and me trying to wake him. A tree. It all comes in sporadic movie-type images in my head. It’s like a mixed up puzzle and every piece is another clue to what happened throughout the night. My final memory is of Keegan telling me that he has a record and can’t get caught by the police. How could I miss this crucial piece of information about the guy I am interested in?

Then, I realize it’s all my fault. I’m the one who didn’t run a background check on him. I’m the one who allowed him into my life without caring about the consequences. Now here I am with a concussion, whiplash, a possible record popping up in my future, and I’m still semi-fantasizing about Keegan. After all the douchebag things he did to me tonight, the only think I can think about is that fantastic voice of his and how I want him to make up for the horrible night he showed me.

Yeah, I’m a complete moron!

It’s thoughts like these that got me in trouble in the first place. I know that my only decision now is to push Keegan away. Max and Caleb both told me that they didn’t have a good feeling about Keegan, and like a fool, I didn’t listen. I know I only have one choice left. It’s not going to be easy, or fun, but it’s a necessity if I’m going to redeem all the horribly bad decisions I made tonight. I pick up my phone, swipe the screen and tap out my response.

Me: Feck off, Keegan. I hope you go to hell.

It’s right after the text message that I drift off to sleep.

Monday morning came too quickly. My mother had to drive me to the courthouse, and unfortunately, my case was one of the last to be addressed. I sat through way too many parole violations, a couple domestic disputes, and custody hearings. The judge is a grumpy asshole who seems to get his jollies from being a total dickwad. Not a single person has been sentenced fairly, well, at least in my opinion. When it was finally my turn to get up in front of the grumpy judge, I was sore and feeling a bit grumpy myself.

“Everly McGowan, would you like to tell me why you’re in my court room today,” Judge Anderson asks me.

I do my best to look pristine and proper and give him the impression that I have my shit together. Half the people who came here today are twitching from drugs or dressed like hobos. I really don’t belong here. Why couldn’t I just tell the cop about Keegan when I had a chance? We’ve only been on one date; therefore, I have no reason to cover his ass anymore.

“I was caught driving under the influence and wrapped my car around a tree,” I answer him.

Fuck, I’m covering for him. Why am I covering for him?

“I see this is your first offense. Do you want to tell me what possessed you to drive after a night of drinking?”

“I thought I could make it home okay?” It comes out like a question.

“That’s not a suitable answer. You could’ve killed someone Miss McGowan. There are other people on the road; that’s something you have to think about any time you get behind a vehicle. The fine for driving under the influence is dependent on your alcohol level. The police officer tested you and came up with an alcohol content level of point sixteen, double the legal limit. I have no tolerance when it comes to DUI’s in my courtroom, so you will be given the maximum sentence.”

I take a deep breath.
Just tell him you weren’t driving the car. Tell him Keegan fled the scene of the accident and left you there to take the blame. Don’t let the Irish accent cloud your judgment anymore.
Every single word in my head makes sense, yet when I open my mouth, not a single argument to keep me from getting in trouble comes out.

“No sir,” I reply.

You’re an idiot. You deserve to go to prison.

“Very well, if you have nothing to say in your defense, I will get straight to your punishment. I fine you two-thousand five hundred dollars for driving while intoxicated, another five-hundred dollars for driving thirty-five miles over the speed limit, and six hundred dollars for not wearing a seatbelt.
Holy crap, that’s almost four thousand dollars!

“That seems a little steep, don’t you think? It’s not like I’m going around drinking vodka slurpees and hanging out at the grocery store. I partied a little too hard and made the wrong decision. Can’t we drop this fine down to something I can actually afford?”

I want to take back my words the moment his face turns into a scowl. I guess big bad judge doesn’t like it when someone talks back to him.

“Miss McGowan, last time I checked, this is my courtroom. Since you are hell bent on trying to disrupt my courtroom, I will make this process easy for you. You can either pay your total amount due of three thousand six- hundred dollars, serve community service for a total of five hundred hours, or serve six months in jail.”

Jail? Jail? He wants me to go to jail? What the hell are you doing? Tell him the truth. Tell the judge about Keegan before it’s too late.

“I will take the community service,” I announce.

“Very well. I have just been contacted by Youth Center, an establishment that helps underprivileged kids have a safe place to go after school. They are in need of some volunteers. They work directly with the problem youth around inner Miami. Is that something you think you can handle?”

I’m the world’s best aunt. Other people’s kids should be a cakewalk compared to changing a diaper. “Yes, I’m very good with kids.”

“Excellent, I will contact Trisha at The Youth Center; she’s their HR representative. I’ll let her know you will there bright and early tomorrow morning. The court clerk will give you the address, and Everly, don’t let me see you in here ever again.”

“You won’t. Thank you, Sir.”

The court clerk hands me a piece of paper with an address on it, and another piece of paper with my hours of community service. I grimace at the number. Working full time at the gym is not going to leave me enough time to volunteer. How am I going to get through six months of community service and keep my job at the gym? My mom can still barely look at me. She shakes her head as I walk up to her. Thankfully, she wraps an inviting arm around my shoulder when she sees my tears.

“We’ll get through this, Baby. Your brother will work around this schedule. I’m sure of it. Come on, let’s go get some breakfast. I’m starved.”

I wipe away some tears falling down my face. “Do you hate me, Mom?” I ask her as we get to the parking lot. She comes to a sudden stop and forces my face to look up into hers.

“Everly Ann McGowan, I could never hate you. Did your actions disappointment me? Yes. More so, you scared me. I thought I lost you the other night. I don’t think you understand the severity of what almost happened. No parent should have to bury a child. You’re my baby, and the thought of losing you broke my heart. I was so happy when they told me you were okay, but I also wanted to strangle you for being so stupid. Don’t you ever drive drunk again, you hear me?”

She’s crying now, and I use the pad of my fingers to smear her tears and makeup. She sniffs and hugs me tightly.

“Don’t worry. I plan on never driving drunk again.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I never want to get a phone call like that ever again, you hear me?”

“Yes mother, you won’t. I can promise you that.”

The next day is seriously the worst day ever. When I get to work, Max is waiting for me. His brotherly concern has worn off, and I’m immediately taken into my office where I’m forced into a meeting with him and Dashawn.

“Spill,” Max barks.

“What do you mean?”

“Everly, I’m your brother. I know that you don’t drive drunk, so what the fuck happened that night. Don’t leave anything out. Your job depends on it.” I can tell just by the way he’s looking at me, he’s serious.

I take a deep breath. I try to never lie my brother, but sometimes it’s necessary like with how Leo tried to rape me. Now that he’s threatening to fire me, I know the best thing to do is tell the truth and hope for the best.

“I went on a date with Keegan.”

“You’re not supposed to date the staff,” Dashawn mumbles.

“I know. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Because you’re an accent hussy,” Max says, angrily.

“Yes, I have a problem. I can admit it.”

“The first step to any addiction is admitting it out loud,” Max jokes.

“She’s not an alcoholic, Max,” Dashawn remarks, laughing. “You can’t say shit like that.”

“She might as well be. My sister gets drunk off foreign men. This isn’t the first time it’s gotten her into trouble, well, maybe it’s the first time she’s gotten into trouble with the law.”

Max goes into detail about all my failed relationships. Each time he ticks off another bad affair, I cringe. Hearing all my failures laid out on the table like this really brings some things to light. Maybe Jessi was right. Maybe it’s time to finally change my accent hussy ways. The first step is admitting you have a problem. The second step is coming clean.

“I need to be fired,” I tell them. Both Max and Dashawn look at each other and then back at me. “I fucked up. Not just the drunk driving thing, or the dating Keegan thing. I mean I really fucked up.”

“Go on,” Max prods.

“I never ran a background check on Keegan.” Admitting that out loud makes me feel even worse. I put their business in jeopardy; I’m lucky Keegan didn’t rob the place blind.

“Everly! I told you to run a damn background check on the guy. Why the hell didn’t you do it?”

“I . . . I wanted him to work here. I liked his accent.”

Max runs a frantic hand through his hair. “Okay, so you didn’t run a background check on him. Why are you telling us this if there isn’t more to the story? Why don’t you tell us about last night?

I take a deep breath and just lay it on them. I start with walking into the door and Caleb’s warning. I tell them about all the alcohol Keegan and I both consumed, and then I tell them about the accident, every fucked up detail, including covering for Keegan.

“Everly, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Everything, obviously,” I reply with an incredible amount of sarcasm. Max glares at me. His forehead has a vein sticking out. I swear I can see it throbbing.

“Everly, this is important. Stop joking around. So you covered for this guy. Why on Earth did you do that?” Dashawn asks.

“Because I can’t remember for sure if I wasn’t driving or not. It was hazy; everything about that night is a blur. Well, except being dry humped and waking up to him shaking me. I briefly remember me trying to wake him up behind the steering wheel, but I was so out of it, maybe I made it up.”

“I’m going to overlook the dry-humping remark. One, because it’s absolutely mortifying to think of any guy dry humping my little sister; two, because that will definitely get your ass fired. As much as I hate to admit it, besides you not running a back ground check on Keegan, and the date thing, you’re a damn good human resources manager. Dashawn and I need you. When he comes in next, not only is he going to be fired, but I’m going to kick his ass I the process. Nobody fucks around with my little sister.”

“Max, I don’t need you to protect me. I made a mistake. This is my consequence to deal with not yours. Besides, you have a family to think about,” I scold him.

“Yea, don’t do anything stupid, Max. We will take care of this,” Dashawn pipes in.

“So what now?” I ask them.

“Do your community service. If Dashawn and I have any questions, we will call you. Get your hours done fast so you can get back here and do your job. We’re firing Keegan, immediately. Run the damn background check, so he can’t come back and try to throw the fucking date in our faces and sue us or something. When it pops hot, he’s done for. How long do the backgrounds usually take?”

“Two days,” I reply.

“Good, he’s off for the next couple days anyway. When he gets back, he’s done,” Max instructs. “For now, just file that damn background check, then take some time off. You really need to think about how this accent hussy shit is ruining your life, Everly. Seriously, take the time to think about what you are doing to yourself. Do you want to spend the rest of your life wasting time on losers?”

No. The answer to his question is no, but do I honestly believe I can just quit dating guys with accents cold turkey? Nope, definitely not.

After the meeting, I make quick work of filing Keegan’s background check. I may have taken the blame for the accident, but there’s no way I’m going to let a felon work for my brother. I messed up once; I’m not going to let it happen again.

I’m just about to leave the office when my phone rings. The number says unknown and I’m reluctant to answer it. After the third ring, I pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, may I please speak to Everly McGowan?”

“Yes, this is her.”

“Oh good, I caught you. We don’t normally contact our community service people, but my boss was persistent. Wait, I didn’t introduce myself! Silly me, I’m Trisha, HR representative for The Youth Center. We’re located on Mayberry street. My boss told me to contact you to make sure you were going to be doing your community service with us.”

“That’s where I was assigned, yes,” I answer. This is quite possibly the weirdest conversation ever.

“Okay good, he’d like you to start tomorrow.”

“Who would?”

“My boss, he’s requested your presence. We have a position that just opened up that he needs someone to fill.”

“He doesn’t even know me; why would he want me to fill an actual position?”

“I don’t know. Like I said this is odd. Usually the people have to contact us. This is the first case of community service work that my boss has asked me to contact you directly. Anyway, if you don’t mind showing up around two o’clock tomorrow, we will get you acquainted with the girls.”