Maxwell swiped at the tiny cut at the edge of his lips.
A cut he could have easily dodged, yet he accepted it to welcome the pain.
The pain fuelled his frustration and he unleashed it on the unfortunate man who had blindly chosen the wrong target that evening.
By the time they were separated, the other man's face was bloodied, and his girlfriend was crying real tears this time.
If Maxwell was in a better mood, he could have admired the dude's resilience in coming for more even as he wobbled on his feet and the power of his punch got lesser and lesser.
But the piercing pain in his heart had been stirred by the barely felt punch of the man, and he kept pummelling him over and over again.
The female bartender's continuous yell of "I will call the police! I am calling the police! The police are on their way!" did nothing to stop Maxwell.
Yet, he stayed his hand when the male bartender grabbed him from behind as he said, "I think he is done now, boss. A few more and he might croak."
The haze of rage that got over him cleared enough for him to really look at the man, who was struggling to get up from where the last punch tossed him.
"Let go of me," Maxwell said to the bartender, and the latter quickly moved away from him as he raised his hands in a sign of peace.
The owner of the bar got to the bar just as Maxwell was looking around to see the damage that had been done from the fight.
"Dios mío. What is going on here?!" the man shouted as he saw the mess everywhere.
As people started getting back to their drinks on the seating arrangements still in good shape, the female bartender explained what happened to the man.
He supposed he was the police officer she had called.
The battered man on the floor was glaring at Maxwell as his girlfriend fluttered around him with her breasts almost popping out of her clothes and mascara running down her face.
Maxwell turned away from the scene with a look of disgust.
Then he passed his card to the male bartender.
"Remove what will be enough for the damage and your trouble," he said as he reached for the scotch in the glass.
The bottle lay wasted on the floor with its contents on the floor and Maxwell's pants.
He withdrew his hand from taking the scotch that had been opened while he was fighting, and he turned to look at the owner who approached him.
The man readjusted his initial intention when the bartender waved Maxwell's card behind him.
The man immediately caught on, quickly collected the machine and punched in the numbers.
Then he directed his anger at the man who had finally stood while his mess of a girlfriend hung on to his arm while asking, "Are you okay? Are you fine?"
In a menacing tone, the bar owner said "You will get out of my bar right now if you know what is good for you! You and your tart are no longer welcome in this bar. If I see you here, I will have you arrested immediately, and you will pay for everything you ruined here today! Cindy! Lou! You hear that?!"
"Yes, boss!" the bartender said as he turned the machine towards Maxwell for him to input his pin again.
"Now scram!" the man boomed at the couple with his boisterous voice and both of them left with shame dogging their heels.
The bar owner offered to help Maxwell replace the wasted scotch, but he declined.
Just as he declined the offer of calling a cab for him too.
Soon enough, his car arrived, and the bar owner escorted him to the door while apologising over and over again.
When the man saw the Maserati he was getting into, he shouted "Please come again next time, sir. Our place is the best in town and what happened today will never happen again!"
The car soon arrived in Bellevue Hill.
The car stopped in front of a wrought iron, automatic sliding gate.
The driver moved into place and waited as the roving camera device atop the gate tilted downward and a flash of light came from it.
The light illuminated the plate number and the gate soundlessly slid open.
Maxwell went straight into the shower. He put on the jet and controlled the temperature with a voice command.
Like a robot, he methodically washed off any hint and smell of the scotch on him.
While the smart mirror automatically defogged the steam behind him, Maxwell left the bathroom.
Then he went into his bedroom to put on his t-shirt, sweatpants and suede house shoes.
He went out of the house through the back door and headed towards the gurgling sound of the babbling brooks.
What he had termed a flaw in the architecture of the whole place worked perfectly fine for him that evening.
As high as the main gate was, the wall that led to the property of the next house was low enough for a determined mind to climb over it.
Maxwell was more than determined that evening.
Though he had wondered if that was the architecture's way of promoting neighbourhood spirit in an environment where neighbours could easily not see each other for ages, Maxwell was more than grateful for whatever philosophy was behind the low wall as he climbed over it that evening.
As the cool water of the brook soaked his shoes and splashed over him as he dropped to the other side, Maxwell figured getting drenched was a fair price for whoever had decided to take the jump anyway.
Still not fully acknowledging what he intended to do, Maxwell entered the oasis and went straight to his favourite spot in the oasis, the lounge chair.
He removed his soaked suede shoes and squeezed them out as best as possible.
Then he leaned back and stared at the darkening sky as he finally allowed his thoughts to intrude.
One thought was prominent in his clearer mind.
He couldn't let her go.
He had been shocked, appalled and scared when she told him she was pregnant.
His reaction was borne of the fear of losing her forever.
He couldn't allow that to happen.
He had to get to her somehow.
He had to explain himself to her.
He had to let her see just how much she meant to him.
He had to make her realise that they belonged together no matter what.
He was certain that she felt something deep in him as well, yet she wouldn't let herself lose control enough to acknowledge that feeling.
He had to convince her to try.
He had waited all his life to feel this way about someone, and he wasn't about to easily let her go because he was being judged based on what another man had done.
He knew he had fucked up too, but that shouldn't ruin everything they could have, right?
He looked away from the sky and straight at the window of the home he had bought after he discovered her address.
For the past couple of days, watching her through that window when she came to the oasis had been the highlight of his day.
She always looked at peace and happy in that spot.
"I can make her happy," he thought to himself in determination. "I want to make her happy. It is not fair that she wouldn't allow me, yet she let some bastard…"
Maxwell ruffled his hand through his hair again as he stood abruptly from the lounge chair.
"Fuck!"
He couldn't even bring himself to think of it. He couldn't!
As he paced around the oasis, a thought occurred to him.
Why had he never seen the motherfucker who impregnated her?
What kind of expectant dad wouldn't always be with his woman at such a time?
Especially if that woman was Reyona?
The thought of Reyona alone in that house with the faceless man infuriated Maxwell further.
Yet he tried to think calmly.
If she really liked this man, and he was around, wouldn't she have at least brought him once to the oasis?
"I would have seen the asshole, right? He…. unless…"
He paused in his stride as his eyes widened when another thought intruded his mind.
What if…
It's not possible, right? She wouldn't do that.
"She was on the pill when…"
He hurriedly dipped his feet into his damp house shoes and hurried towards the house.