105
I walk down the dark hallway until I get back to the part of the club where all the people are dancing or drinking.
I'm about to head towards the bar to get some alcohol, but before I get there I look at a guy holding a bottle of whiskey in his hands. I walk up to him and without thinking, I snatch the drink from him.
"Hey! What's wrong with you asshole?" he yells, but shuts up abruptly as I pull out a wad of hundred dollar bills and throw them at his chest.
I have no idea how much money was going in there, but I don't care either. All I want to do is get out of here, so I head for the exit in a hurry in search of my car.
"Where's my car?" I ask one of the guards at the entrance.
"In a moment the valet will bring it to you, sir," he let me know.
I enter the vehicle and start it, speeding out of there.
Once I get on the highway, I uncork the bottle of whiskey I have with me, and in one go I put it in my mouth, allowing myself to feel the bitter liquid burning my throat.
With each sip I take, I feel less and less lucid, so much so that I can't even see the highway I'm driving on very well, and I'm not even aware of the speed I'm going, although from the adrenaline I'm feeling, I'm one hundred percent sure that I'm way over the limit.
I go back to ingesting more alcohol from the bottle, and when my eyes fall on the rearview mirror I notice that there is a van at a considerable distance behind me, which I'm almost sure it's them, the damn paparazzi.
I press harder on the accelerator, and in a matter of no time I get away from them.
As I enter the streets of the city center, a traffic light that is about to turn red makes me stop, but when I again turn my eyes to the rearview mirror to make sure I have completely lost the photographers, I notice that in the wait they have again taken advantage and have managed to get close to me again.
"Damn, sons of bi’tches" I spit out, giving the steering wheel a hard thump.
I wiggle my fingers, impatiently, debating between what I should do.
I consecutively shift my eyes from the traffic light, which is still red, to the rearview mirror.
I think about it for a few seconds, until I take another swig from the bottle of alcohol that is already half full, and without further ado, I start to press hard on the accelerator without caring that the light still indicates stop.
I take one last look in the rearview mirror and when I see the truck so close, I don't think twice and accelerate. And as if everything happened in a matter of seconds, when I turn to look at the right side of the street, the loud beeps of a truck less than a meter away from me, break my concentration.
"I never want to see you again in my life", is the last sentence that goes through my mind as I close my eyes and think that I am going to be hit by the truck.
But I wait for the impact and when I open my eyelids, I notice that I have managed to cross the street and the truck has passed me by.
My heart beats like crazy, and it takes me a few seconds to assimilate what has happened. My pulse is racing, I slow the car down and brake abruptly when I realize that I am about to hit the car in front of me.
I receive several honks from the other cars on the street, and doing my best to contain myself and not send them all to hell, I continue my journey until I mysteriously arrive alive in the parking lot of my building.
I turn off my car, take the bottle of liquor and stumble out of the car towards the elevator to go up to my apartment.
The movement of the elevator makes me dizzy, so I have to lean on the metal sheet to keep from falling so I can continue drinking my whiskey.
When the doors open to reveal my apartment, it takes me a while to enter the place. I look around the area and memories of when she was here come to my mind. Now it looks like a dead place, with no life at all, just like me.
With difficulty and on the verge of falling to the floor, I enter the room, which to my luck, is silent.
After bumping into almost every object in the main room, I look for the switch to turn on the lights, and the instant I do so, I notice the blonde-haired woman standing on the island, watching me unperturbed with her sparkling blue eyes.
"Can you tell me where you've been?" she asks annoyed, seeing him walk past her in the direction of the liquor store. "Did you hear what I asked you or are you playing deaf?"
"I'm playing deaf," is my reply, taking the bottle of cognac.
"Answer me already where you came from," she demands.
"Stop fucking around, Alice," I say to get out of there, but she obstructs my exit, leaving me to see her in her robe, in which her belly is showing more and more conspicuously.
I swear that just looking at her makes me want to vomit, and it's not because she disgusts me, but because I was fucking lucky enough to be the one who showed the symptoms of her pregnancy, and every time I look at her, I feel the bile rise in my throat.
"You know?, I've been cooped up all fucking New Year's Eve, waiting for you to deign to show signs of life, and when you come back you come stinking of alcohol and with a
stinking of alcohol and a disgusting whore smell," she reproaches me.