Chapter 22

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After I released the contents of my glass in her stupid face, everything that occurred afterwards was a total blur.

Her pulling me by the hair.

Me elbowing her in the nose.

Savannah trying to break us apart.

The whole club coming to a standstill.

A full-blown cat fight ensuing between the both of us.

Security coming to break the fight.

And finally, both of us being arrested and driven to the NYPD, downtown.

So here I was, sitting in a jail cell feeling awkward as hell. To make matters worse I was seated right next to Tatiana, along with some other delinquent women. Their presence didn't bother me, just hers.

"You know this is your fault, right?" she muttered, examining her broken acrylic nails. Let's just say I had done a lot of damage.

I subconsciously brought my hand up to stroke my aching jaw. Tatiana had somehow caught me off guard, and landed a good ol' upper cut on it. Damn her. However, I countered that with a fist to her eye and nose, giving her a black eye and probably a broken nose.

I was about to reply smarmily, but didn't end up doing it because a police officer came and told us we could each a phone call. Apparently, they were done "rounding up the troublemakers", for the night.

Tatiana shot up fast like cork from a champagne bottle, and raced to the phone. I had a very strong hunch on who she was going to call.

"Bryce," she moaned. And my hunch was painfully correct.

I tuned out her irritating voice, focusing my thoughts on whom I was going to call. I had no relatives that lived in New York. The closest thing I had to a friend was Savannah, but I knew she had run away when the police showed up. I could call Logan, but I didn't have his number. Bryce was definitely not an option.

Everyone else had already called someone to come bail them out by the time I stood up to place my call. I unhooked the receiver, and stared at the buttons. They seemed to stare back at me, slowly mocking me because of the fact that I had no idea who to dial. But that didn't stop my fingers from punching in the phone number that I had known for years now.

The person picked up after exactly 10 seconds. "Hello," came a feminine voice I recognized as my mother's.

I gulped inaudibly. "Hi mom...It's Aubrey." I croaked out, feeling some sort of remorse for bothering her so late at night.

She remained silent for a few seconds. "Why are you calling at such an absurd hour? What's wrong?" she said, not at all withholding the disappointment in her tone.

I laughed nervously. "Well, I'm actually in jail-"

"What?" my mother shrieked. "To be honest, I was expecting you to say you were coming back home with a baby like last time. Jail is certainly not as bad.

I cringed at those words. I knew I hadn't been the best daughter for the last couple of years but she didn't have to be that blunt with me. It wounded me deeply how it seemed she had no regards for my feelings whatsoever.

"Is Israel there? Can I please talk to him?" I asked softly, simultaneously masking my hurt emotions and changing the topic.

"And why would he want to speak to his neglectful mother? When was the last time you even bothered to call him, huh? It's been 2 years, Aubrey. Stop with this mother of the year nonsense. It's a little to late for that." she sliced coldly. I could feel hot tears welling up in my eyes, threatening to spill.

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