There was smashed ceramic all over the floor, holes in the walls and a definite sort of satisfaction that came with each swing of the sledge hammer or each punt of a plate at the wall.

Max's idea of relieving stress and blowing off steam, was to go to a huge warehouse that was separated into dozens of rooms where destruction was the entire idea.

We paid ten dollars each and were given an enormous stack of plates, cups, bowls and ceramic vases that we were allowed to have at.

It was a miracle none of us had injured ourselves considering Max and Abby were half cut. Pun intended.

"How come you've never told us about this place before?" I asked Max as he dropped a mug and kicked it so hard it flew across the room and shattered.

He turned around and wiped his brow which was damp with sweat. The room was humid as fuck. There were no windows. Just a small vent in the ceiling for air conditioning.

"Because I knew you guys would want to come down here," he said and Abby recoiled with offence. "I wanted something that was just for me, alright? We all spend so much time together. It was something that was mine. Just mine."

"I get it," I said.

We did spend a lot of time together and that had a lot to do with me forcing us into group bonding as often as possible.

We shared friends. We partied together. We were in each other's space a lot. So I didn't begrudge him for needing something that he didn't share with us.

We walked back to the car after we were done and I realised this must have been how Max kept his shit together all the time.

I was starting to believe he was adopted. In some form, we'd all taken after Dad and his impulsivity.

Not to mention mom's temper which she managed just fine. It just so happened that when she did get pissed off, you better get the fuck out of her face because she doesn't hold back.

"Home?" I asked as we climbed back into the car.

"Nope," Abby declared, reaching straight for the bottle of Absolut I'd left in the centre console. She unscrewed the cap and settled into the back seat. "You both got to choose something to do. Must be my turn."

I turned in my seat and stared at her as she guzzled the vodka back so fast that one would think she was a seven foot Swedish man.

"What are we doing?" I asked.

I glanced at the clock on the dash when I started the car and noticed it was almost nine.

Max turned in the seat and gestured for the bottle of alcohol which Abby was more than willing to hand over.

I promised I would look after Max and make sure there was no excessive drinking. I had failed. But I could still get him home on time? Not that we were given a curfew.

Ah fuck it. "Where am I going?"

"What the fuck," Max laughed, staring at the front of the bar.

We stood on the footpath and I was beginning to question this idea that the three of us spent too much time together. Clearly, we didn't spend enough time together.

The bar had saloon style doors and a neon sign that flickered as if it was losing its life. "The bull."

"What the hell is this place?" I said to Abby as we walked inside, passing a couple of tall cactus plants. The smell was awful.

If I was pulled over in a car right now, my blood alcohol level would be off the charts from inhaling the air in this place.

Abby waved at an older man behind the bar. He was short, fat and looking at my sister with a predatory stare.

His thin hair was all grease and the missing teeth in his small mouth just made the entire appearance ten times worse.

"This is The Bull," Abby said as though it was obvious and I was an idiot for asking. "Mills and I found it while we were out and about one night. Jabba is really nice and he never asks me for I.D."

"Jabba?" Max said.

"The bartender," she gestured in his direction and he waved again, baring his gums and nicotine stained teeth. "I don't think that's his real name. But that's what everyone calls him."

"Everyone?" I looked around at the vacant bar.

The only people present were a couple of old men who I could slot in with Jabba when it came to appearances.

Max wandered over to the bar and took a seat on a stool. It wasn't long before he and Jabba were chatting. He poured Max a drink and I contemplated grabbing him and leaving.

Mom and Dad would knife me if they found out I was in a bar with their precious daughter and more intelligent son.

"We should get a drink," Abby bounced on the spot with intoxicated excitement. "We don't need—"

"ID. Yeah I know," I interrupted and gripped her elbow before she could run off. "That's because the bartender is a fucking rapist and wants to plug you. What the fuck? I thought you were smarter than to come to a bar where a bunch of old perverts get drunk."

"Jabba is really nice," she defended. "You need to relax. I do this all the time. He doesn't have some ulterior motive. He's just sweet and discounts our drinks. Not that we need a discount. But sssh."

"That's because he wants you to buy more and end up vulnerable so he can shove you into the back of his blacked out van. I bet he never sees females that aren't married, swinging for the other team or more masculine than me. Don't be so naive."

She sighed with boredom. "I'm not stupid Lucas. I understand there are risks. But there's never been an issue. I swear. Besides, you're here tonight. So relax and have some fun with me. We're all going to have a go on that thing once you've had a few to drink."

She pointed at the mechanical bull at the back of the bar.

It was in the middle of a padded pit. The stains and grime on it were obvious from here.

Disgusting.

I was starting to piece the puzzle together. I was almost certain she had the same fears about this place I did. But she wanted the best of both worlds when it came to living in the spotlight.

She loved being adored and having her photograph taken but she also liked to go out and have fun without ending up in a news tabloid or trending on twitter for being an international embarrassment. And there was no one in here that cared to film Abby and out her as the black sheep of the Lahey family.

"I'm driving," I turned back to her. "I can't drink and I'm not going on that fucking thing."

"We can catch a cab," she said, bumping into a chair behind her. "Don't be such a square. Just have some fun with us."

In all fairness, the evening out was my idea and when I looked over at Max who was bopping to the old western music on his barstool, I knew I needed to follow through with the promise I had made.

Which was to ensure he was safe. But I also promised him a good time. So I followed Abby over to the old pine bar which was sticky with spilled alcohol and who knows what else. I sat between the other two and nodded at Jabba as a form of greeting.

"How's it going, son," he grinned, whistling through his missing teeth.

Now that we were closer, I also noticed he was missing the tip of his thumb and he had a thick scar down one side of his nose. He seemed as though he had stories to tell and I was almost certain he would be worth listening to. But before we commenced with a chum chat, he had to be warned.

"If you ever touch my little sister, I will rip off your dick and shove it so far up your own ass that it ends up in your throat and you choke to death on it," I smiled and pointed behind him. "A vodka please."

Abby scolded me under her breath and Max threw an arm around my shoulder. "He means it," he slurred at a volume that felt a little bit excessive. His bar stool toppled but he managed to plant his feet before he ended up on the floor. "He will actually hurt someone. I've seen it. Check out his hand. I will too. Check out my hand."

Max held up his left fist, shoving it in the direction of Jabba who squinted, looking for evidence that wasn't there. I laughed and gave him an encouraging pat on the back.

"Wrong hand brother."

He stared at his fist for a moment but didn't bother correcting his mistake. Instead, he sat down and finished the rest of his drink.

I hadn't seen him in this state. . . ever. He did drink and we did have a good time. But he was stumbling about and slurring his words and shouting sentences that could have been uttered at a reasonable decibel and still have the same effect.

But of course, the more that I had to drink over the course of a few hours, the more amusing I found the entire thing. We threw back several rounds of shots.

We sang - badly - to Sweet Home Alabama. I drunk dialed Amalia. She didn't answer.

The mechanical bull was also a hell of a lot harder than it looked. Abby hung on for a while longer than Max, who was thrown off within the first three seconds.

He wasn't thrown off in a literal sense. The level was low and it had barely moved. He just sort of slid off and laid in the padded pit with his face in the unknown grime for about four minutes until Jabba managed to haul him out and made him drink a glass of water.

That was after he told me I wasn't allowed to dance on the bar to Toxic anymore. He was cool for a while and then he ruined my Britney throwback so I told him to see a fucking dentist. Not nice. I felt bad.

The rest of the patrons in the old bar didn't have as much enthusiasm as my siblings and I.

They cleared out within the first hour and a half. There was grumbling about getting up in the morning and having their quiet hump-day beverage interrupted by unruly youth.

It was a bit uncalled for. We brought spirit to the small joint which needed a thorough sterile hose down. It looked like there was actual cum on the mechanical bulls head and I was certain I did not want to know how the fuck it got there.

Abby managed to find a cowboy hat. From where, I do not know.

But she was leaning on the duke box with it tipped down, her hand in her pocket and a beer in the other hand.

She was tapping her foot to some old country tune I had never heard before. Max was throwing darts at the wall. Not on purpose. He just couldn't seem to aim at the dart board and I had somehow ended up with no shirt on.

It was tied around my head while I sipped on a straw which was inside a glass. The contents of the glass were gone.

Which was a relief because when a hand clamped down on my shoulder, I flinched and the glass hit the floor, smashing into a million little shards.

I turned around, expecting to find Jabba. Instead, I found Mills in her t-shirt and joggers. Her long hair was wrapped in a bun and she looked exhausted.

"Fuck me, woman," I slurred and almost fell off the seat when it started spinning underneath me. "You gave me a hell of a fright. Come to join in? Grab a drink."

"Bugger off Lucas," she slapped me around the back of the head. "I got Abby's phone call. I'm taking the lot of you home. Get off your arse and help me with those two."

I didn't move and I really wanted her to stop moving as well. It was possible I was seeing things. But she was definitely replicated. Her tired scowl gave me a once over and she tilted her head to the side.

"Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

"I am," I hiccuped. "It's on my head."

"Why?"

"I don't fucking know," I shouted. "It's hot."

"When did you get that?" She pointed at the tri-football tattoo on my chest.

"Amalia drew it for me," I said. "So I got it tattoo'd on me. She's talented huh?"

Her brows rose as she slowly nodded. "Yeah. It's nice. Come on. We need to get the hell out of here. I am tired. Gather the crew."

She pointed at the other side of the bar where Max was attempting the bull again.

He waved when he saw us watching. His eyes were half closed and as soon as he lifted his hand, the bull bucked and he flew off. His legs went up in the air and he landed on his stomach, his feet hitting the back of his head.

Abby curled over beside the duke box. It seemed Max's wipeout had snapped her out of her Carrie Underwood moment.

"Always check the difficulty level dude," she shouted.

"No one called you," I stared at Milly with accusation. "We aren't done. We've still got the entire night ahead of us. It's our oyster. Or something."

"She told me to come and get mortal with the three of you," Milly rested her hands on her hips, her thick lips pulled into a tight, frustrated line. "As if it isn't one in the morning and we don't have school tomorrow. I was hoping it wouldn't be as bad as it sounded on the phone. But it is. You're all pissed."

"Mills," Abby screeched from across the bar. "You came. Get some fire in that belly babe. Get on our level."

"Get in my fucking car," Milly snapped back.

"Someone is jealous she didn't get invited," I gave her a poke in the stomach but she swatted my hand and scowled.

"No bloody shit," she said with her accent which made her sound class no matter how vulgar her words were. "Arseholes couldn't even let me tag along. This is our spot."

"Mills," I stood up and towered above her. "Shut the fuck up. This was an evening about sibling bonding and farewells."

Her expression softened. Just for a moment though, because I stumbled into her and stood on her foot.

"Lucas," she hissed and gave me a shove in the bare chest, her hands were warm and lingered for a moment while I found my balance.

She helped me remain upright. "You're bloody wasted. Does anyone need to throw up before we leave? Because if a single drop of chunder touches my interior, I'll kick off."

Max and Abby had stumbled there way towards us and leaned against the bar for support. We all shook our heads. But to be fair, I couldn't promise I wouldn't colour her car with digested food court kebabs.

I just had to hope that all three of us could keep it together. It was getting harder to see straight.

We thanked Jabba for an eventful evening but he didn't seem eager to welcome us back. Sober Lucas would report that man for allowing minors into his bar. Which was more to do with his perverted ass staring at my baby sister.

We slid into Milly's little four wheel drive. It was a two door. So I ushered Max and Abby into the back seat and then climbed into the front so I could hang out of the window if I needed to throw up.

Now she'd mentioned it, I felt sort of nauseous. It would be her own fault if I did lose the contents of my stomach. "Thanks for coming to get us," I said, letting my head rest on the seat.

She rolled her eyes and peered into the rear view mirror so she could see the other two, she grinned and her dimples appeared. Damn, she had a good side profile.

My sister was attempting to read her phone. She had it two inches in front of her face and kept blinking as if that would help to clear her vision.

Milly gave me a tired smile. "Someone had to get you lot home."

"You're a good friend."

"You would have done it for us," her words turned into a yawn. I felt bad for interrupting her sleep.

"Mills," Max called from the back seat with a slur. She peered into the rear view mirror. "Sorry we couldn't bang babe. I know you were keen. I might've if I was single. But yeah. It wasn't you. Sorry. Ya know."

"Max," Abby shouted, the sound of a thump followed and I glanced over at Mills to see she was staring straight out ahead with a vacant stare. "You can't just fucking say things like that!"

Max was going to regret that in the morning.

"I'm sorry," Max shouted with a slurred whine. "I just thought she should know before I leave. You're a gorgeous girl. I'm sorry!"

"Max!" Abby screamed. "You're making it worse!"

"Bloody hell," Milly shouted and slammed the wheel. "What the fuck is with the incessant shouting. This conversation could be had at a normal volume. There's no music. We're all a foot apart. You're a bunch of bellends. And it's fine Max. I don't care!"

The car became dead quiet after that.

"You seem a little more aggressive than usual tonight," I said, stretching my arm out so I could flick Milly's lip up and down with my fingertip. "Smile, Mills. It suits you."

"I'm knackered, Luc," she tried to bite my finger but I retracted it. "It's one in the morning. Forgive me if I don't have the patience of a saint."

"Got it Ma'am," I settled into the seat. "You two back there. Shutthehellup until we get home."