You say you want more but can you handle it?

I find myself exposed, naked in vulnerability here as I trace my steps back to a person I no longer associate with. I dig deep within to tell you of an inconceivably wild, crazy, mind-blowing experience I had when I was young, foolish and prone to disaster.

Here I got you hooked on this Netflix-series-like story-line and then I stop dead in my tracks before baring the most unbelievable parts. Kind of like a real TV show huh? 😘

Part of me has a hard time admitting this all publicly but I’m sorry for being a baby- it’s BACK and better than ever because I’m going to lay it all on the line this time!

Buckle up my dears! SEASON TWO IS HERE!😘

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If you haven’t been following this story oh boy hold onto your pant-strings there’s a lot to catch up on. You can check out the links for the previous chapters below.

Let me give you just a little peak into what my little, wild world looked like before I dropped off of the planet and left you with 101 questions.

RECAP:

"I guess we're going out tonight." She said to me, one eye raised with intrigue.

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"Noooo thank you Em. I am not at all down to do that again. No chance."

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"Babe, I hate to say this but you're staying here for free. You haven't had to work. You have to do this, it'll be so easy, that way they can't hate on you for not doing what you said you would... you seriously don't want to piss Kyle off and he's already mad that you haven't been working."

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"Well, Em, I didn't sign up for being drugged every other night so forgive me if I am not so eager to go out into that scene again plus, I would be working if all this damn drama wasn't happening. Has anyone asked me how I like this?"

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"No I know, it's not been ideal and I get you babe but I am just saying from Kyle's perspective you've been a mooch. Well anyways, what if we just pre drink here... that way we will have control over our drinks. We can order a new bottle of rum and have it delivered, then at least it'll be fun when we go. I'm not trying to go to that barf-bag bar sober, I don't know about you."

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I thought about it. Sh*t, she was right. They were technically 'paying' my rent. It was part of my salary which I wasn't making but to be fair I wasn't working. I wonder if them drugging me counted as working... I would love to be working so I could buy myself the first ticket out of here. But even if I did get a ticket out, where would I go? I didn't really have anywhere to go... That was a depressing thought.

I guess her idea made sense. How could they drug me if I didn't have any drinks around them for them to drug? She was definitely right about not going sober to that bar. It was filled with spring breakers and stepping foot in there sober would be a nightmare. Plus, rum... Well, I like it, so, sure.

"Ya, OK. Well, get to it, order the rum then."

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Yeah. That was my harrowing, real life and that party we were supposed to go promote at? Well… there’s a reason I didn’t finish this story until now but it’s a new year, it’s a new me, it’s time to face the music.

You’ve been asking for more, so don’t you ever say I didn’t give you anything ;)

The chime of the doorbell ricocheted off the walls of the shifty little apartment in what was my own personal hell version of Melrose Place. Em’s ears perked up and she excitedly rushed to her wallet, fumbling money from the huge wad she had out of the zipper, dodging baby toys littering the ground to get to the door.

“GRACIASSSSS!”

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She bellowed at the dazed and confused delivery boy on the other side of the door who in response, grinned sheepishly, took the money she was shaking at him and handed her an over-sized bottle of local rum that glistened through the room as it caught the moonlight coming in from the window. He then turned on his heels and was gone down the winding stairwell without another word.

Em flicked the door shut with her foot and spun around gracefully, skipping into the kitchen, bottle in hand, bee-ling for the freezer to get the ice.

”The PARTY HAS ARRIVED BABE!”

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She shouted at me, clearly unaware that I was standing only a couple of steps behind her, coy and nervous about letting my guard down again by allowing that venomous liquid into my body.

”Is this a good idea?” My heart was attempting to get my body’s attention but it wasn’t listening.

I hated introspection. Nothing was worse for me at that time of my life than trying to make sense of anything, especially what I was doing or any possibility of any consequence so I shook it all out of my head, let my worries drop right out of my ears and grabbed the glass she was pushing in my direction. Better to drown it than feel it at this point.

A passing warning floated through my mind “That is A LOT of rum!” But my hand accepted the nearly full ball-glass, pressed it to my opened lips, tilted it back and swallowed it all down. In one gulp.

Here-we-go! I could hear Mario’s catch-line encouraging me as I got caught in a whirlwind suction to another world with no worries, no fears and no consequence.

“Let’s do this then!” I managed to say through the burn of the rum scraping my insides all the way down, weakening my cognition and absolving me of my reason.

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“Oh hell yes!” Em poured more rum into my now empty glass and started blaring dance music as loud as the speaker would allow.

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Before I knew it, we were whirling around in the living room, screaming distorted words at each other in our attempts to sing along, laughing and falling into each other’s trust again.

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In situations like this, it’s funny how alcohol can bond you together with someone like some demented glue. Em and I found these moments sacred. Pour glass full, swallow feelings with each swig. Repeat. Somehow we could find a way to push the fear and worry aside in the fleeting feeling of freedom from the liquid courage- it was our only escape from them and this demented world around us.

Our conversation got deep and emotional as it had been known to in the past during these little ‘trips’ and started turning into a sob fest again. Two women, stuck in a foreign country where their only allies were criminals wanted by the feds… tends to draw out some tears and anger when alcohol is added to the mix.

Em was feeling trapped not just physically but emotionally. She had so much on her shoulders with the baby and her stress levels were through the roof. She seemed to be holding something in. Something she could barely allow to come from her lips. Finally in a summersault from her lungs, a burst of air came with the message… she wanted to leave James.

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That was in no way, no shape, no form, no galaxy among the stars going to go over well with him.

I felt empathy for her in my heart. I know what it's like to feel trapped by an abusive and dangerous situation. That was nothing new to me. However, if she decided to tell James that she wanted to leave him and take his baby back home while this whole fiasco was going on with Chris and the FBI and the club opening up all at the same time... I thought I was afraid before but I hadn't seen anything yet.

Look my friends, you don't need to feel bad but I know how long attention spans last so, I'm going to break this down into 10 minutes or less each chapter so you can keep up ;) If you're looking for more, I'll post what happens next TOMORROW! SO STAY TUNED!

I know I wish I wasn't there for what comes next but when told in a story and not real life- much more entertaining!

If you've yet to read the series, here is the introduction, Welcome to DR, Part 1

Trying to Make Sense of Everything Going Wrong in Part 2
My Confusion and Panic in Part 3
My favourite, The Reveal (of the Terrifying Secret) Part 4.
An Intro to Kat Part 4.5
The More You Know Part 5
Kat Gone Wild Part 6
Kyle's Prisoner, Part 7
Adam's Drunken Incrimination Party, Part 8
Jailbreak, Part 9
Em's Perspective Part 10
They Found Us Part 11
Then That Happened Part 12
Flashback Pt 12.1
Snitches Get Stitches Part 13
Why More Drinking?Part 14

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If you're hanging by a thread and want to know the moment the next part is published, let me know in the comments and I will keep you updated!

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A gypsy life bought to you by @heart-to-heart
From January 2014 I have been what you would call a vagabond, a nomad, even a gypsy by definition of the words. I had what they all have in common: no fixed home...and no fixed income but the wildest stories.

Until next time,

XO,
😘

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