by Tasha Fawkes
An hour passes and that turns into two. I slowly become more and more inebriated, my mood worsening with every glass. I’m drinking way more than I should—especially considering my angry and agitated mood, but at this point, I don’t really care. So what if I feel a little sick tomorrow? It will be worth it to forget about her for five minutes. Nearly every drink I’ve consumed has been brought for me and I can’t even enjoy that, because every sip tastes like betrayal. Still, I force it down.
My eyes flicker open as I glance around me. I’m surprised to see it’s only Matt and I sitting there now. He raises his eyebrows at me. I frown at him.
“Where did everyone go?” I mutter.
“They left. You weren’t exactly the life of the party, so everyone lost interest in celebrating with you.” He frowns at me. “I’ve been trying to work out whether you were asleep or passed out. Or dead,” he adds.
“I never asked them to come here in the first place,” I snap, ignoring his dig at me.
“No, but I did.” Matt frowns. “I thought you could use the boost. You won, but you’re acting like you lost the fight of your life. You proved everyone wrong. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
I stare at him in dismay, because he really doesn’t get it.
“Rex, what’s wrong with you?” he asks. I laugh, because he actually has the nerve to sound frustrated at me. “I thought you’d be happy that you did what you insisted to me that you could. You secured this takeover.”
“Sure,” I mutter, staring at my empty glass. “Why wouldn't I be over the fucking moon? I mean, victory tastes wonderful, doesn't it?” I snap.
Matt sighs and leans forward. “Is this your conscious kicking in? Is that what this is? You did what you had to do, so what’s the point in feeling bad about it?”
“Because what I did hurt a lot of people,” I growl. “People who didn't deserve it. All because our grandfather had to settle some score that doesn’t even matter anymore?” I scoff. “It's ridiculous. You fucking know it is.”
I push back my chair and stand up, because I can't sit here and talk about this with him. Not when there’s nothing that either of us can do about it. Sure, I did what was needed. Our inheritance is secure. That was the goal, after all. And the icing on the cake is our grandfather’s score is settled. Everyone's a winner. Except James. Except Shana, and except me. I’m not fucking happy because I lost the only thing I care about. I've lost the woman that I’ve fallen in love with.
Stalking out of the bar, I walk away from where my car is parked—not that I’d even consider driving in this state. I’ve proven I’m stupid, but even I’m not that stupid.
I walk along the street until I come across a park and then I change direction and stumble through that. I can’t go home. Not yet, because I just can’t stand the thought of being alone in that big empty house. There’s nothing like loneliness to fuel depression. I find myself a tree and sit down. I glance around, double vision kicking in from the alcohol. I shiver in the darkness, because I’m fucking freezing. I should've brought a jacket, but pain is good, I guess. Pain means I'm at least feeling something other than the ache in my heart.
God, and I need to get her out of my head.
I pull out my phone and try calling her again, but there's no answer. I hold the phone and just stare at her name, trying to think of a way to undo this mess that I've made for myself. But there’s nothing. There’s no fixing this. I scroll through my recent calls and laugh bitterly as Shana’s name pops up over and over again. She's the only person I’ve spoken to all month. The only other person to call me in the last month is Matt, and he wouldn’t have, given the choice. What does that tell me?
She was the only person who genuinely cared about me, and I fucked it up.
I shove my phone back in my pocket, angry. I get to my feet, swaying in the soft breeze. I feel dizzy, so I hold my hand against the tree stump for support, until I’m steady on my feet. I walk for what feels like hours, until I just can't anymore. I can't take another step, so I slump down onto the edge of the road. A taxi eventually passes me. I half- heartedly wave my hand, not really caring if it stops or not. When it rolls to a stop, it almost feels like an inconvenience for me to get up. I sigh and force myself to my feet and then stumble over to the door and open it. I fall onto the backseat, somehow locking in my belt.
“Where to?” the driver asks.
“Fifteen six ten on fourth,” I mumble as I close my eyes, wrapping my arms around me.
I must've fallen asleep, because the next thing I know the driver is nudging me, telling me that we've arrived. He frowns at me as I fish through my wallet and throw a handful of bills at him. I mumble a thank you as I stumble out of the car.
“You sure you’re okay?” he calls out after me. I wave my hand, not even bothering to turn around.
I walk up my driveway, nearly tripping over my own feet more than once. I eventually make it to the door. I unlock it and walk inside.
Everything is so messed up, and I don't know what to do about it. I've never felt this level of guilt before. I've never cared what my actions did to other people. That has never been me. Until Shana. She's changed me. She's made me grow a goddamned conscience. She's made me care about what I do and what I want.
The fact that my grandfather would be proud of what I've done makes me feel sick. I hate that I’d have his support because of this. Nothing else I ever did was good enough. To think it took something like this to gain his approval?
God help me.
I walk through my empty house, feeling more alone than I ever have. I'm confident that I've lost her for good and that there's nothing I can do to get her back. I need to get her out of my mind, and I don't know how to do that. The only thing remotely helping at the moment is the alcohol, but even then, she’s still there. She’s still in my head, hurting me. She’s still causing me pain.
I find a bottle of whiskey in the back of the cupboard. I twist the cap off and drink it straight from the bottle. I wander around the living room, unsure of what to do now. I turn on the TV and sit there, but nothing has caught my attention, because I don't care about any of it anymore. I don't care about anything.
Everything reminds me of her, even this goddamn sitcom I’m watching. The lead actress kind of looks like Shana. I think it’s her eyes or something. I shake my head and turn off the TV. I drink some more, because drinking is my only friend at the moment. I pour myself another glass after I finish the last one. My stomach is already warning me that I'm going to regret it, but I don't care. I keep drinking until I can't physically lift the glass to my lips anymore. I stumble, falling to the floor, where I eventually pass out.
I wake up and can barely move. Every single part of me aches. I finally manage to shift my head far enough around to see my phone lying a few feet from me. I crawl over and pick it up, examining the time. It's barely five in the morning and I’m passed out in a pile of my own vomit.
Wincing, I somehow get up onto my knees and crawl through the living room toward my bedroom. I make it as far as the bathroom, before the need to be sick overwhelms me. I make it to the toilet, hurling up what feels like everything I've eaten in the past few days. Which granted, isn't much.
I sit there, slumped against the toilet for a while, intermittently throwing up and dozing. I feel so nauseous that I clutch my stomach in an attempt to stop the feeling. I'm not sure if it's the drink or the guilt that’s eating at my stomach. Finally, I'm able to stand long enough to have a shower. While it feels good to get clean, the water is also helping me sober up, which isn’t a good thing.
Sobering up means the events of the last few days are coming back into the forefront of my mind, something I fought so hard to avoid. Shana. God, Shana. I've got to do something. I can't just sit around here and mope over losing her. I need to fight. I need to fight for her. I need to show her how much she means to me. But how can I do that when she won't answer my calls or reply to my texts?
It's barely seven in th
e morning by now, but I decide that's late enough for me to try to call her again. It, of course, goes unanswered, just like the other fifty calls I’ve made to her over the last forty-eight hours. I text her, knowing that she won’t reply, but it still hurts when she doesn’t. How am I going to get her to listen to me?
I sit down on my bed with my laptop and type out an email. I pour everything into those few paragraphs. I just need her to know how sorry I am, even if she doesn't want anything to do with me. I just need her to understand that my feelings for her are real and that I wasn’t trying to play her. Not in the end.
Clicking send, I then send her a text, telling her to check her email. God knows if she will or not, but at least I’ve done something. I lay down in my bed, feeling sick, aware that I should be getting up.
All I can think about is trying to free myself of this crippling headache.
In the end, the pain wins out and I close my eyes, covering my head with a pillow. I drift in and out of sleep for the next few hours as one thought drifts in and out on my mind.
I'm never touching the drink again.
Eighteen
Shana
I clear out my office equipment as quickly as I can, my father's last words still ringing in my ears. He said that I sold myself out to further my career and while I defended my actions black and blue, telling him that, that wasn't how it was, I know that’s exactly how things are.
I slept with Rex to further my career.
God, saying those words make me feel sick. I knew that’s how it was, but to actually admit that to myself? I shake my head. I knew it was a game, yet I still let myself go there. Then I took things even further and fell in love with him. I laugh bitterly. How could I let myself to be played by him like that?
I’m the definition of everything I never wanted to be.
I slump down in my chair and sigh, glancing around the room I’ve called home for so long. All my life, the only thing I’ve wanted was the approval of my father. No matter what I did, it was always just out of my reach. That didn’t matter, though. I told myself next time he’d notice what I’d done for him and how hard I worked for him. There was always a tiny ray of hope that one day he’d see me. His daughter. I just wanted him to be proud of me.
Until now.
I’ve officially squashed the last tiny speck of hope to make sure that my father never sees me as anything more than a disgrace and the traitor who ruined his whole life. Who knows, maybe that's a good thing. I snort. How can it possibly be a good thing? Because being with Rex gave you a glimpse of a life that you never thought was possible. I'd never wanted that life, until I let myself believe I could have it…Sure, things didn't work out, but I think I’ve finally realized that I do deserve more than what my father could never give me.
God, now I’m arguing with myself.
I rub the back of my neck and smile, because I’ve officially lost the plot.
Did I sabotage myself in order for something to change in my life?
Could this be fate's way of making me leave Denton Industries and get out there on my own to make something of myself ? There are so many questions whirling around in my head that I just can’t make sense of.
One thing is for certain. I can finally do what I want.
The realization hits me out of nowhere. For the first time in my life, I can really do whatever I like. I have nobody telling me what I should do, or how I should do it. I can focus on me and what I want.
The only problem is, I have no idea what that is.
I stare down at my phone. The number of missed calls that I have from Rex is impressive. I can’t deny that he’s persistent, if nothing else. I still don't answer, nor do I reply to his texts, because I’m not ready for that yet. I haven't even checked the email that he told me he sent me—mainly because I know how easy it would be for me to break down and give in to him. That’s the biggest reason why I won’t let myself see him. If I do, then it's only a matter of time before he breaks through my barriers and makes his way into my heart. I can't let that happen.
He's hurt me once. I can't let him do it again.
I carry my things out to the car and dump them in the trunk, slamming it shut. Then I sit in the front, my heart pounding, because I don't know where I'm going from here. I can’t even bring myself to start the damn car. I stare down at my hands. God, I’m shaking. My stomach is so churned up that I feel sick. Where am I going? I don't want to go home, I know that much. The one place I do want to go is the one place I know I can't. His place. I decide to call Ash to see if she can meet me for a drink, because if I don’t, then I’m going to crack.
Besides, I think I’ve earned myself a drink or ten.
“Are you busy?” I ask her when she answers. “I thought maybe we could catch up.”
“Right now?” she asks, sounding concerned. “Is anything wrong?”
“Can I explain everything when I see you?” I say, weakly. I rub my head, because the last thing I want to do is go into detail over the phone, or I’ll turn into a blubbering mess.
“Okay, how about you come over to my house?” she offers.
“That would be great,” I say, relieved. Making a scene in the middle of a random bar isn't something I was looking forward to. “I’ll see you soon.”
I head over to Ash’s place, stopping at a liquor store along the way to grab a bottle of wine—I walk out with three. She opens the door and wraps her arms around me, instantly knowing something's wrong when she sees the amount of alcohol I’ve brought with me.
“I take it you and Rex didn't work things out?” she asks with a frown.
“No and thank you for leaving me like that,” I say, frowning at her. I’d almost forgotten the way she’d left me there with him.
“I'm sorry,” she winces. “I swear I thought I was helping you out.”
She takes the wine from me while I sit down at one of the stools that line her kitchen counter. I roll my keys around my fingers and say nothing.
“Tell me what’s going on,” Ash says, frowning at me. “I’ve never seen you this…flat.”
“It's a long story,” I mumble. Now that I’m here, the last thing I want is to talk about it.
“Well, I’ve got the time,” she says, leaning against the counter. “Shana?”
I sigh and lean against the counter too, resting my head against the marble. It feels cool and so nice against my skin. I lift my head and frown at my friend.
“It's just such a mess,” I say with a dejected sigh. “Every single aspect of my life is completely fucked up.”
“Come on,” she says. “It can’t be that bad.”
I snort, because oh yes it can be. She motions for me to follow her into the living room. I do, putting my drink down on the coffee table and then I lay back on the couch and close my eyes.
“Tell me what's going on,” she says.
“This whole thing with Rex just got a thousand times worse,” I say with a sigh. “I just lost everything that I worked so hard for and I could handle it when I thought it was worth it, because I had him, but now I don't even have that.” I laugh and sit forward, resting my head in my hands. “I don't know what to do from here, Ash. I put everything into that company for Dad, and he did nothing. He didn't recognize anything I ever did for him, but now I don't even have that.”
“You’ve got me,” she offers. “And everything that led you to that point in your career,” she says. “Your father will forgive you. He will,” she insists when she sees my expression. “You basically did what he would do. Whatever you needed to do in order to get ahead. He’ll see that eventually, and he’ll forgive you.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” I mutter. “So what am I supposed to do with my life now?” I demand.
“What do you want to do?” she asks.
I shake my head sadly. “That's just it. Everything has always been about getting his attention, and now any chance of that happening has been taken away.” I put my hand up, s
topping her before she can cut in. “I know you’ll say that's a good thing and it probably is, but in my mind, at the moment, everything I know is gone.”
Ash walks over to the couch and kneels in front of me, taking my hand in hers.
“You need to look at this the other way. You need to look at this as a fresh start. As a chance to be you. To do what you want.” She frowns at me. “How long have you been telling me that you want to break free from your father's hold on you, Shana? Well, guess what. Now you have to.”
“But what if I can’t?” I whisper, tears filling my eyes.
“I know you. I know you’re not just going to curl up in a ball and let this win. You’re going to fight. You’ll find a way through this and in the end, you’ll could come out better than you were before.”
I lean forward and wrap my arms around her, tears rolling down my cheeks. I laugh, because she’s crying too. We hug for a long time, until I finally pull away.
“I'm so lucky to have you as a friend, Ash,” I say. “Even though all I ever seem to do is lean on you. You never lean on me,” I say with a laugh.
“Trust me, I've done that plenty of times over the years,” she says with a giggle. “Remember the time Billy Roberts broke up with me and I lived on your couch for like a month?”
I giggle. “How could I forget? I literally had to spoon feed you to get you to eat.”
“Exactly,” she says triumphantly. “So just think of this as payback for that. It doesn't have to be even all of the time. That’s how friendships work. You might go a year needing to lean on me and in the next year, it will even itself out when I do something really stupid and stuff everything up,” she says with a silly grin.
“Speaking of which, how's your new thing going?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes and laughs. “It's going well,” she admits, her cheeks reddening. “I don’t want to jinx it or anything, but he's a good guy. I like him.”