Ocean's Eleven: Narrative Who: Meredith Janssen What: Narrative Where: Ocean's Eleven When: After returning back to the Venetian Warnings/Rating:
It was less than a day later when she returned, just as she promised. She had a fresh face, clean of makeup, her hair freshly washed and pulled back in a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Just as she had promised, she had returned, only to find out that he was going out.
He didn't explain where, precisely, but he told her who he was going to see.
His brother, Louis. And that was fine, really.
But also Sam.
Meredith put on a smile and nodded her head and she told him it was fine, because what else could she say? What kind of person would she be to tell him that he couldn't go see his brother, couldn't go somewhere just because she wanted him home. So she was smiles and nodding heads, at least until he had left, at least until nearly half an hour had passed with the penthouse empty of everyone other than her, and only then did the smile fade.
She didn't stick around in that empty penthouse, not around the opulent wealth that she had become accustomed to since things with Neil had gotten serious. It reminded her of him, and she just couldn't stay there when he was out, living a life that didn't really involve her. So she left, purse over her shoulder, keys in hand, a note left on the counter that she had gone out shopping just in case he happened to return before she did.
Her mouth was dry and her thoughts were thick with everything that had happened since that event in the hotel. She knew that she had done something wrong, that she had hurt him, but what more could she do besides offer her apology? It wasn't something she ever intended on repeating in the future, and nothing that had been a trend in her past. Despite what had happened, Meredith did know the definition of 'no', but in that humid room with the heat so high that you could barely think, she just didn't think, didn't do the right thing. And she had hurt him.
It couldn't have been anyone else, of course. It had to be him, him with the words made of poison that itched beneath her skin. How horrible she was. How she made his skin crawl.
"The best all Neil and Sam's family could do is stay away from you. I been at my job long enough to know what rotten looks like and it's you."
"You made me wanna crawl outta my own skin!"
No attention was paid to where she was going, to where she ended up, not until the dark cool of the bar closed in around her. This wasn't some place on the strip, someplace fancy or posh. This place was dark and quiet, even the jukebox in the corner a low hum that was just enough to fill the background with a little something. She didn't think and she didn't walk out. She just sat her ass down at the bar with her purse between her knees and waited for the barkeep to notice her.
"Gin and tonic," she ordered, and she picked at the pretzels that sat on the bar until her drink arrived, clear and cold and she sipped at that as she thought.
Counseling. Maybe she needed to go find someone to talk to.
Maybe she needed to find a way back home. Back to the life she had ran away from. But that wouldn't work either, would it? Too many wrongs, not enough time to make it right, and she pushed a hand back into her hair, tangling near the ponytail holder that kept the red in check.
"Another, please."
She sat her plastic on the counter, asked for a tab, and when one glass emptied, she ordered another, the minutes slipping by into hours, and she thought.
"Still trouble? You. Not him. He's always trouble."
"Everyone keeps saying I was trouble. I know there were issues, but I think that's a bit of exaggeration."
"I believe the last thing I told Loren was that you'd get someone killed someday. But I wasn't any better, so I've no judging. Just hope we've all mellowed beyond serial killers and rapists."
Rapists.
Meredith laughed into her drink, and in the process got the attention of a man sitting nearby, staring into his own drink. She just waved a hand at him and angled herself away. Not in the mood to be social was what her body language said. Another gin and tonic was sat in front of her and she sighed down into it.
Maybe they had been right. After Nathan and everything that had happened back in Vegas, maybe she was trouble.
And Neil? Didn't he deserve better than trouble?
She wiped at a tear that fell, thumbing it away furiously before she took another drink, her head full of fuzz and alcohol. "One more," she requested, pushing the now-empty glass back towards the edge of the bar.