Margaritas and Mistakes

Kenny drove me to the address I had forwarded to him. "We're here," he said as the car rolled to a gentle stop.

I peered out the window, spotting a large, glowing sign displaying the name of the restaurant bar — Velvet Ember. Its neon lights flickered stylishly in the evening air, casting a moody red glow across the sidewalk. It looked lively, with chatter and music spilling into the night.

Kenny stepped out and opened the door for me. I smiled and thanked him as I got out. I glanced at my wristwatch — 6:15 PM. Not too late, I hoped. Max and I had agreed to meet at 6. A fifteen-minute delay shouldn't be a big deal, right?

As I stepped toward the entrance, a waitress greeted me. She had a bright, rehearsed smile and wore a fitted black dress with a red apron tied around her waist. Her blonde hair was neatly tied in a high ponytail, and a pen was clipped behind her ear.

"Hi, good evening. Name, please?" she asked, flashing her pearly whites.

"Hi, Mia," I replied.

She frowned slightly, tilting her head as if confused. Maybe my name wasn't on the reservation list?

"Mia Andrews," I quickly added.

At the mention of my full name, her eyes widened — not with recognition, but almost with nervous surprise. "Ms. Andrews, welcome," she said a little too brightly, the smile now feeling forced. She gestured for me to follow her, and I did.

Inside, the restaurant bar was cozy but upscale — dim lighting, rustic wooden beams, and leather booth seating lined the walls. A live band played mellow jazz in the background, blending smoothly with the buzz of people chatting over plates and glasses. There were tall bar stools near the counter, and square wooden tables spaced just enough to give each group some privacy. The scent of grilled meat and citrus cocktails floated in the air.

As we turned a corner, my eyes found Max — and I couldn't help but grin.

There she was, waving excitedly with both hands like a lost kid who'd just spotted her parents at the mall. She stood up from her seat, beaming. Her platinum blonde hair bounced around her shoulders in loose waves, and her outfit was bold but playful — a cropped leather jacket over a red cami top and high-waisted jeans paired with heels. Her eyes were lined with a flirty cat-eye, and her lips wore a teasing shade of berry red.

I rushed over and gave her a tight hug, unable to hide my excitement.

She pulled away and gripped my shoulders, holding me at arm's length. "Why do you look skinnier? Have you been feeling your freedom a little too much?" she said with a laugh.

Typical Max. No "how are you," just straight to teasing.

She dragged me over to the cushioned booth with a tall, plush red backrest and round glass table. I sat across from her, still adjusting to the low lighting.

"Ready for your order?" The same waitress had returned, her pen poised over her notepad.

I reached out for the menu she was handing me, but Max interrupted before I could even touch it. "Two margaritas, please," she said with a mischievous grin.

I gave her a wide-eyed "girl, chill" look, but she just giggled.

Well, I thought. Why not? This would technically be my second time trying alcohol. The first was when we were fifteen, and Max had swiped one of Dad's half-empty whiskey bottles from his office at home. We drank it in my room. We barely had a few sips, but we still woke up with pounding headaches and regret the next day.

Never again, we promised. Yet… here we are.

"So... a lot has happened, huh?" Max said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I looked at her and nodded slowly. I ended up telling her everything — starting with Andreis, then Angelo, and now Mr. Lavigne. She listened, her face cycling through a storm of emotions: surprise, laughter, concern. And even disbelief.

But the best part? She didn't think I was crazy.

"At this point… you're thinking Andreis, Angelo, and Mr. Lavigne might all be the same person?" she asked, sipping her margarita, her lips pressing softly against the salted rim of the glass.

I nodded again.

We were now on our third glass each, and I hadn't even noticed. The night had flown by with all the stories, the laughter, and the unraveling of my tangled thoughts.

The margarita was surprisingly good — a perfect balance of sweet and tangy lime, the sharp bite of tequila smoothed out with a touch of orange liqueur. The salt on the rim tingled against my lips, and the cold glass felt refreshing against my palm. But now, I was starting to feel the effects.

My head was spinning ever so slightly. The room felt a little too warm. I blinked slowly, the buzz kicking in stronger by the minute.

"What time is it?" I suddenly asked, panic trickling in.

Max glanced at her phone. "9:57."

"Shit. I'm only allowed out until 10. We have to follow Dad's rules or this won't ever happen again," I said, anxiety building.

"I agree," Max said, finishing her drink. "But I'll go to the restroom real quick."

She stood and disappeared down the hallway.

I stepped outside the restaurant to find Kenny. I figured I'd wait for Max out front and let Kenny know we were ready to go.

But instead of Kenny, a man in all-black stood nearby, blending in with the shadows. He approached calmly and said, "Kenny had to leave. He asked me to take you home instead."

I blinked, confused. His outfit looked just like Kenny's — black slacks, black shirt, even the same earpiece tucked discreetly in one ear.

I gave him a small nod. Weird, I thought. Why didn't Kenny just call me?

My head was pounding now. The alcohol was hitting me hard. My stomach churned slightly, and my mouth felt dry. My legs were unsteady, as if the ground beneath me had become soft and swaying. It was that uncomfortable mix of dizziness, nausea, and a too-heavy head — the kind of drunk that makes you crave your bed more than anything.

I followed the man toward the parking lot, my steps slow and unsure.

But then I stopped.This isn't the car Kenny drove earlier.

Panic surged through my chest. I turned, intending to run back toward the restaurant — but the man grabbed my arm, pulling me firmly toward the waiting car.

I felt sick. My vision swirled. My knees buckled slightly.

What's happening?

"Got her, sir. We're on the way now," I heard him say into his earpiece as he pushed me into the car.

Then everything went black.