Hey guys! I know, I know, yet another new story? I've run into some cases of writers' block and whatnot, but this is actually a freeflowing idea, not just fluff. You know the drill! Read and Review! I'm posting two chapters, but if I don't get at least three reviews on each, I will not be posting a third.

Love you guys! xoxo Emma

Playlist for this chapter: I Gotta Feeling- Black Eyed Peas; Catastrophe! (Prepare to Defibrilate)- The Fold

Bedlam Inc.

How was Layney Aldridge supposed to know that more excitement than just clubs and hot boys awaited her on her spring break to Miami? She wasn't.
How was Tanner Grayson supposed to know that a seemingly simple, clean job would win him a one-way ticket to couple-dom? He wasn't.
What do these two total strangers have in common besides having absolutely no clue what they've gotten into? They've gotten into it together.

Chapter 1: Layney

"Nikki, I'm going to go out and grab some fresh air with-" I frowned, a giggle bursting through my lips as I glanced back at the dark-haired man gripping my elbow, whose name was escaping me. "This guy. I'll just be right outside. Don't leave without me, biotch."

Nikki raised her eyebrow—four, actually, from the way the room was spinning. "You okay, kiddo?"

I grinned broadly, covering my mouth delicately as a tequila-flavored burp escaped my lips. "I have never been better. This guy, this guy—I think his name's Pedro—bought me a drink. One of those fruity ones, y'know? And it was soo good. I think if I go outside with him, he'll get me another."

Nikki rolled her eyes. "Just be safe, Layne, you hear? I don't wanna have the cops calling me tomorrow saying they found you face down in a ditch," her hand darted out to my shoulder, the contact drawing my eyes to her swimming face. "You're smarter than that, got it?"

"Nikiiii!! It's spring break! Of course I'll be smart!"

She frowned skeptically, eyeing the guy behind me who was checking his watch impatiently. "Alright, if you say so. Use a condom. Make him buy you breakfast. Don't drink anymore! You're done for the night!"

"Yes mom,"

"Hey! I'd like to get you back to Yale without getting your stomach pumped, thank you!"

"Nikki! Unclench. Go slut it up. I'm pretty sure I've seen Ali with three- no! four! Separate guys tonight…" I slurred, pausing and trying to think back to when I had last seen Ali. "Maybe it was one…" I giggled, my arm flopping over Nikki's shoulder. "I don't really know," my voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm drunk."

"Okay kiddo, go get your air. You need it!"

I grinned goofily and planted a wet kiss on her cheek before turning and dragging my guy towards the exit.

"Hold on sweet thing, I want to get you another Daiquiri," tall, dark, and handsome purred in my ear. "And then we can go wherever you like."

I beamed at him, clapping my hands with a childlike squeal. "Oooh!" I squealed as he started to walk towards the bar. "Get some of those pretty shots too!"

He winked at me and disappeared into the masses. I tried to keep my eyes pinned on his bobbing head, but as the alcohol continued to flow through my system, the room began to spin and throb out of sync with the pounding music in my head. I leaned back against the wall and pulled my dress down another half inch, letting my cleavage flow out a bit. I ran a hand through my hair, sticky with gel and humidity, and tried to tussle it sexily around my bare shoulders. As I was doing a smell-check of my armpits to make sure I didn't sweat to much in the club, Pedro reappeared with my lush pink Daiquiri in one hand and two neon tubes in the other.

"Let's go, precious," he leaned in towards my ear as he placed the cool glass firmly into my hand. "Let's find someplace where we can be," he nipped my earlobe with his teeth. "alone."

I giggled and batted my eyelashes at him, looping my arm around his as he led me from the swaying mass of bodies into the staggering humidity of nighttime Miami. His arm snaked around my waist as he led me towards the side of the club, away from the prying eyes of the bouncer and the clubbers waiting in line or having a smoke. I sipped daintily at my drink as he pressed me up against the brick wall, his arms around me as he kissed my collarbone.

I pushed him off, rolling my head back. "Wait, wait,"

Annoyance flicked through his eyes briefly, before he glanced over his shoulder and wiped his hand across his mouth.

I beamed up at him, sticking my tongue flirtatiously through my teeth. "Drinks first!"

He shook his head, chuckling, handing me a fluorescent tube, lifting his in a toast. "To the sexiest girl here tonight."

"Cheers," I murmured, bringing the tube to my lips and gulping the burning liquid. I squeezed my eyes shut, urging my throat to swallow all of it and let the dull fire settle in the pit of my stomach.

"Now where were we?" he asked huskily, taking my drink from my hand and setting it on the ground between us.

He ran his hands up the backs of my legs, his deep brown eyes pinned to mine. They traveled tantalizingly slow up to the hem of my short dress, diving under and cupping my butt through my boy shorts. His lips resumed his hands' progress, running up my stomach through my breasts until his soft lips reached mine. He pressed me passionately against the wall, his hands kneading my butt as he sucked on my lower lip. I groaned deep in my throat, threading my fingers through his soft hair, bringing them down lower until I could rake my nails down the collar of his shirt, feeling him shudder as I scratched his skin. He sucked my bottom lip further into his mouth, drawing it out with his teeth so he could dive his tongue in. He had worked one of his legs in between mine and one of his hands had left my bottom to cradle my head against his tongue's advances. The rough denim of his jeans rubbed against the tender skin of my inner thigh, but I still pressed myself closer to him. The hand still on my butt pulled my leg up around his waist, bringing him flush against me so I could feel his stiff erection in my stomach.

We broke apart, breathless, though he continued to ravish my neck with his lips and teeth. I had the familiar feeling of arousal in the pit of my stomach, though it was mixed with something else: queasiness, the feeling of bile rising in my throat, and dizziness so bad that I couldn't tell if he was standing in front of me or was wobbling away towards the club's entrance. My legs began to feel like jelly and I struggled to keep my arms around his neck to remain standing. I tried to talk, tried to tell him I didn't feel too well and wanted to go back inside or back to my hotel, but my mouth felt as if it was stuffed with cotton and my tongue made out of rubber.

He fiddled with his thumb in and out of my underpants, his breathing growing ragged as he continued to kiss me.

"Let's get these out of the way, shall we?"

"I…" bile rose farther in my throat, and the sound of my own raspy voice grated violently in my head. "I don't feel too good. My head… God, it's killing me."

"Here," he lifted my drink to my lips. "You're probably just dehydrated. It's way too hot."

"No… I don't," I swallowed thickly around my tongue, my words trailing off weakly. "Think so."

"Just drink," he said forcefully, and I did.

He smirked and placed his mouth roughly over mine, yanking down my underwear in one fluent motion.

"Step," he commanded, and like a puppet, I lifted my feet one at a time so he could drag leopard-print material off of me and leave it on the pavement.

His lips returned to mine and he backed me against the wall, his hands running all over me. I clung to him, needing his support lest my legs give way, but so desperately wanted to push him away. Somewhere in the back of my mind, behind all the booze and hormones, was my Yale voice that told me this was bad. I tried to look at him, tried to communicate somehow that this wasn't what I wanted, but he wasn't paying attention and my vision swam so much that trying to see straight just made me feel more ill. So I squeezed my eyes shut against the foggy, spinning ground and instead watched the tie-dye splotches burn across my eyelids as he manipulated my body.

"Marcio Rodriguez?" a deep voice asked from somewhere beyond my range of consciousness.

I opened my eyes, the outside world swimming before me, and tried to locate the speaker, but everything more than two feet away from me had gone dark. Marcio stepped away from me, letting my leg that had been wrapped around him swing back under me. I staggered back without him there to support me and grappled for something to keep me standing. There was nothing. I slid to the ground, landing on my hands and knees. I wanted to know what was going on. Who was there? What did they want? Where was I? I was so confused. I just wanted to go home.

"… a lot of money… financiers aren't happy…"

"Just give me… I've got stuff… falling into place…"

"… not enough… know the deal… what it is…"

My stomach bubbled and I opened my eyes to blackness, though even without seeing, I felt as if I was on the Tilt-a-Whirl that came to my town each summer. I groaned, my hands wrapping around my stomach and I dropped to my side on the ground. The snippets of conversation stopped abruptly and I heard footsteps coming closer, then someone bark out a laugh.

"Unbelievable, Marcio. You don't have enough money to pay back my employers, but you can afford to drug this poor slut,"

My mind raced. Drugs? This revelation seared my mine, my outrage fueling one moment of lucidity through my inebriated state. My vision returned and suddenly the world seemed stable and all too violent. I lifted myself to my feet, tottering wildly on my stilettos and faced Marcio, my hands defiantly on my hips, though my disheveled hair and scrunched dress took away some from my menacing stare.

"Drugs? You… drugged me?" my voice came out raspy and weak. I felt pathetic.

Marcio's eyes hardened and shrugged, his lips one thin straight line.

I turned to the other man, whose teal eyes under thick, dark brows, were bright and clear through my hazy vision.

"And you," I pointed a finger accusingly, though focusing my narrowing field of vision, shook violently as I tried to jab his chest. "How dare you call me a slut. I'm," I swallowed the bile that was returning to my mouth. "Not a slut, you jackass."

He too, only smirked. I was outraged. I had been drugged, and he had the nerve to call me a slut? Who the hell was this guy? I had had enough. I wanted to hurt someone. I wanted to hurt him. I pushed him squared in the chest, but his solid frame was no match for my intoxicated one. I wound up thrusting myself off of him, my heels catching on one another and I flew, head first, into the brick wall of the club.

My head seared as if struck by lightning and stars danced in my vision. I could taste blood on my tongue and the sting of my sinuses ran all the way down the back of my throat.

In my last moment of consciousness, I saw the teal-eyed man turn grimly to Marcio, his hand clenched across his chest.

"Gun!" I croaked, though I doubted anyone besides myself could have heard.

"That was the last time you could screw Mr. Mancini over, Marcio," his voice sounded hollow and distant; I could feel myself fading. "He's done. You're done."

He drew the gun faster than I could blink and in an instant, Marcio was down with one silenced gunshot to his chest.

My breathing grew labored, though my heartbeat roared in my ears. My blinking slowed and I could feel the pain that was radiating from the back of my skull begin to snake its way to envelop my entire head, its burning tendrils creeping down my neck. I tried to keep myself away, tried to move my fingers and pinch myself, but hazy, painful, darkness was encroaching my vision.

Teal eyes appeared in front of my, his heavy breathing whispering across my lips.

"Shit," he muttered. "Danny, go get Phil. We need this chick patched up… Now."

His eyes faded into slits as I succumbed to the warmth of unconsciousness.