Intoxication

by L. S. Slayford

  “Mother, you’re rambling on,” Tara told her, her tone firm. Something was definitely up now. “Just spit it out.”

  “Carly’s pregnant.”

  Something exploded within her chest, and Tara’s stomach dropped to the floor. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. She gasped as lucid thoughts returned to her mind. “What?” she whispered, unable to comprehend what her mother said.

  “I’m sorry to tell you, Tara, but Carly is pregnant. She was showing off the ultrasound photos to us this morning.”

  Tara listened to the words, but it was as if they were being spoken through a heavily fortified door. It was hard to take it in. “Greg’s knocked Carly up?” she said, her tone flat and heavy.

  “Look, Tara,” her mother said, her words coming out hard and rushed. “I know you loved Greg, and I know what he did to you was unforgivable, but Carly is family, and a new member of the family is coming into the world soon. You’re going to have to deal with this so there’s no awkwardness.”

  “Awkwardness?” Tara laughed. “Me? Awkward? I’m not the one who fucked her cousin’s boyfriend in their bed for the last six months. How could I make it awkward?”

  “You’re not a child, and like it or not, she is family.”

  “You’re my mother!” Tara shouted down the line, unable to hold back the pain and anger washing through her. “You’re my mother, and you’re telling me to make things less awkward for her? Where the hell do you get off telling me things like that?”

  “Tara Benson, do not talk to me like that!”

  “Someone needs to talk to you like this,” Tara hissed, gripping the phone tight within her hand. “Have you told Carly how terrible she is for cheating with Greg? Have you told her that she a disgrace to the family? Have you told her never to speak to you again because she betrayed and hurt your daughter? No! The answer to all of that is no. Do you know why, mother? Because it’s easier to say these things to me than it is to her.”

  “How can you say these things to me? I’m your mother,” the older woman said, her voice low and soft. Tara could hear the tinge of sadness edging her words.

  “How can you say those things to me? I’m your daughter,” Tara exclaimed, then gave a bitter laugh. “Believe it or not, I’m not actually upset over them. I’m more upset over the fact that my own mother has no problem sucking up to the people who hurt me than them getting married and having a baby. This holiday has made me realise that I had fallen out of love with Greg a long time ago, that we were only staying together out of convenience.”

  Silence stretched down the line for a few minutes, with only the heavy breathing of both women filling the space. “I see,” the older woman said, drawing the words out. “When did you realise this?”

  Tara shook her head, even though her mother couldn’t see. “It doesn’t matter. Why are you telling me this while I’m on holiday?”

  A heavy sigh flowed down the line. “Carly put up a post on Facebook this morning. I didn’t want you to find out online.”

  “Thanks for that,” Tara said, the words heavily soaked in bitterness. “That’s so kind of you. Just what I needed today of all days.”

  “Tara,” her mother said, voice firm. “It’s time you do something about your attitude. It’s not nice of you to act like this.”

  “Tell you what, mother. When you tell Carly it’s not nice to sleep with other women’s men, and she shouldn’t make things awkward for me, then I’ll act all nice and sweet. Until then, you know what you can do,” she replied with fake pleasantness. Without waiting for the other woman’s response, Tara hung up, slamming the phone down in its cradle.

  What the hell was wrong with her mother? What the hell was wrong with men? With everyone? Why couldn’t people just act decently in the first place? Why was it that everyone she trusted had no problem hurting her?

  Tara sighed and out of the corner of her eye, spied the mini bar.

  Drinking her weight in vodka sounded just about perfect right then.

  Cong

  Frustration boiled deep in Cong’s veins, hot as lava. It churned within, hungry and impatient, spurring Cong to keep going as he pounded on the treadmill. He’d prefer to go to the gym downstairs, but that would mean having to deal with other people, and there was no way in hell was he doing that.

  No, the further away from people, the better. For them, and for him.

  The pressure building inside him was too much for him to control around others. Since Tara had run out of the building, he’d been treading a destructive path. He’d snap at anyone trying to help, saying things he didn’t mean, or doing things he shouldn’t be doing. No, it was better if he just kept to himself.

  It was common for him to escape his frustrations on the treadmill. When he was younger, he’d go running around the mountains, breathing in the fresh air. By thirteen, he had known every inch of those slopes. When he’d moved to Macau, he had to settle for the parks – when he’d tried jogging on the streets most people thought he was either crazy or running from the police – but these days, it was easier to keep a decent treadmill in his apartment. If he woke up at three in the morning with a woman trying to smother him in her sleep, at least he could escape without having her accuse him of trying to get rid of her.

  Not that he didn’t mind having Tara’s body wrapped around him while she slept. He’d enjoyed it. More than he thought he would. It had never been that way with any other women. Most women it was the same cycle. Fuck, sleep, goodbye, move onto the next one. Wash, rinse, repeat.

  Yeah, he was a jerk alright. At least he admitted it.

  And now Tara thought he was a one, too.

  Damn! And damn Ruomei for ruining everything. That woman was a pain in the arse with her devious schemes and her insistent sexual manipulations. Why the fuck did she have to ruin everything? Cong closed his eyes as he continued to run, his breaths coming in sharp pants, the aftermath of earlier flashing before his eyes.

  “Is that someone new?” Ruomei had whispered, her eyebrows rising upwards. “I suppose she’s pretty, but she doesn’t seem your usual type, lover.”

  “Damnit, Ruomei, I am not your lover. Now get up off the floor, I need to go after her,” Cong told her, the bite of command in his voice, but Ruomei hadn’t listened to him.

  The dark beauty tightened her grip on his trousers, trying to reach inside to grasp his member. The look of determination in her eyes sent chills running through him. “Don’t worry. The timid little ones always come back. Send her a few flowers, maybe a little piece of jewellery, and she’ll be back beneath you in no time. Meanwhile, we can have our fun. I don’t mind sharing as long as I get what I want.”

  Cong snatched her wrists and shoved her away from him, hastily redoing his belt and zipping his fly. “For fuck’s sake, Ruomei, get it through your thick skull. I. Don’t. Want. You. I want her.”

  Dark eyes glistened with tears as she glanced up at him. “But you always wanted me before.”

  Cong turned to her, anger boiling in his eyes. “That was before Tara. Sorry, Ruomei, but you just can’t compete against her. She’s everything you’re not. That’s what I love about her.”

  Ruomei’s lips had started quivering, and the initial shock of disbelief in her eyes had transformed into rage. “You bastard,” she whispered. “You’re meant to love me.”

  Shaking his head, Cong had turned away. Striding to the door, he flung it over. “Get up and get out. I don’t want you coming near me again.”

  Rising to her feet slowly, Ruomei smoothed down her skirt, the hatred in her eyes now blossoming over the rest of her features. It was staggering how quickly her anger had turned into pure rage. “What about the project?”

  “Fuck the project, and fuck you to hell. If Tara doesn’t speak to me again, I promise I’m going to tell both your brother and your father about your little proposition. Now get out.”

  Even now, several hours later, Cong could hear Ruomei’s bitching and swearing as she strode out of his office
. If looks could kill, he’d be on the floor screaming and holding his severed balls in his hands. But it was Tara’s eyes that haunted him. They couldn’t hide the pain and horror of finding another woman on her knees before him, and Cong’s insides twisted at that.

  By the gods, she didn’t deserve that kind of agony. It hadn’t been too long ago that she had found her boyfriend and her cousin in her own bed. Now she found him with Ruomei in a compromising position. He couldn’t blame her for running away. If the roles had been reversed, he sure as hell wouldn’t have stuck around to listen to excuses.

  Not that he had excuses – he wasn’t trying to fuck Ruomei – but Tara had not known that.

  He’d tried to run after her, but she had escaped the building before he could reach her. The last thing he saw was the glimpse of red hair as she flung herself into a taxi. As it sped off, his heart had sank. He’d called the hotel where she was staying several times; the receptionist had informed him after the tenth time that the line was engaged.

  Tara wasn’t picking up.

  The muscles in Cong’s legs were screaming at him to stop and although he desperately tried to ignore them, he couldn’t. Switching off the machine, Cong bent over, the sweat dripping off him, like waterfalls cascading over the tops of the cliffs. How long had he been running now? An hour, two? Debating whether he should try calling Tara again, he glanced at the clock on the mantlepiece, a gift from his grandfather a year before his death. Half past eleven. She’s probably asleep by now, he thought.

  Cong grabbed a towel and swung it around his neck before slowly walking towards the bedroom, the muscles crying out with each step. He knew he was going to pay for the extended workout tomorrow.

  Just as he was passing his desk, his phone rang. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone really, but he couldn’t help but peek at the screen. Zhihuan.

  Sighing heavily, and already regretting the decision before he picked up the phone, Cong hit the answer button. “What do you want, Zhihuan?”

  “Is that any way to greet your oldest friend, my man?” came Zhihuan’s cheery voice.

  “I don’t think you want to hear my reply to that,” Cong told him testily. “Was there a point for your call tonight or do I just have to guess?”

  “Tsk tsk, boss, tsk tsk,” Zhihuan laughed down the line, then muttered something to Melissa but couldn’t make it out. “No, actually, there is a reason I’m calling.”

  Sweat trickled down his temples. “Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow?”

  “I’m not in tomorrow, remember? Hospital appointment with Melissa, and then we’re going baby shopping,” he said, his voice coated in a layer of exasperation.

  “OK, so what can’t wait until the day after that?”

  “Well, Melissa found out that you’ve got a new girl, and she says the fact that you’re going to try and convince her to stay in Macau means that you’re serious about her. Therefore, she demands that – ouch! Fine, fine – she asks that the two of you meet us for dinner after work. Angela has already informed Melissa that you don’t have any late meetings tomorrow, so there’s no excuse.”

  Cong found himself rooted to the spot while an invisible punched him straight in the gut. He sucked in a deep breath, unable to speak. Why the fuck had Zhihuan asked him this now? Something inside him broke a little bit more, the pieces breaking into jagged shards.

  “Cong? Cong? Cong! Where are you?” Zhihuan’s voice thundered down the line, pulling him out of his reverie.

  “Sorry, Zhihuan, it’s been a rough day,” he told him, hearing the weariness and catch in his own voice.

  Zhihuan heard it, too. “Cong, what happened? And don’t try to bullshit me. You know better.”

  Cong sank into his chair, throwing back his head as he kept the phone pressed against his ear. “Ruomei came over to the office today.”

  “So? What did she want?” his friend asked, confusion layering his words.

  “She wanted me to go after her brother’s business. According to her, Lang is on the verge of bankruptcy and needs to sell. Two of his employees embezzled millions out of the business, and they can’t trace the money.”

  A deep chuckled resonated through the phone. “Fuck! That will teach Lang not to protect his assets better. So, she came over and tried to convince you. Did she?”

  “I was thinking about looking into it. She wants a cut out of it, though.”

  “I knew Ruomei had a conniving streak in her, but I didn’t think she’d go so low to fuck her own brother over.”

  “Yeah, but wait. It gets better.”

  “Go on.”

  “Part of the deal was that I fuck her.”

  “Aren’t you the lucky one?” Zhihuan snorted, his voice thick with sarcasm.

  “So lucky that she tried to blow me right in the office.”

  “How come all the women try to do that to you? I don’t remember anyone attempting that when I was single.”

  A visible shudder ran through him. “Tara walked in just as I was trying to get her hands off my fly.”

  Silence extended down the line for a minute, but it felt as if it was an hour. “Shit. Don’t tell me; she ran off before you could explain?”

  A heavy sigh escaped Cong’s lips as he ran a sweaty hand over his eyes. “Yeah. Got into a taxi just as I walked through the doors. She hasn’t been picking up when I ring her either.”

  “Are you surprised?”

  His heart was a slow crawl in his chest. Cong shook his head, heaving another sigh. “Not really.”

  “So, what are you going to do?” Zhihuan asked.

  Arching his spine to help relieve the tension in his aching back, Cong closed his eyes. Tara’s face flashed before them. Instantly, he opened his eyes. “I don’t know,” he replied, honestly.

  “Listen, Cong,” Zhihuan told him, his voice becoming solemn. “How much do you like this woman? Seriously?”

  Cong’s shoulders slumped as the truth poured over his lips before he could pull them back. “I love her.”

  A whistle flooded the line. “I knew it! The great Zheng Cong finally falls in love, and the woman won’t speak to him. Classic.”

  Anger boiled within him. “Glad I could amuse you, Zhihuan. I wonder if your termination contract will amuse you just as much.”

  “Damn, Cong, don’t be like that. I’ve waited for years to see you fall in love,” the other man told him, unfazed by his words. “Anyway, the way I see it, you’ve got two choices. Either you try and work this out with her, explain what was going on – and don’t bullshit her on this, because women can smell out every lie eventually – or else you let her go.”

  Cong felt his stomach twist at the idea of letting Tara go. “I don’t deserve her,” he whispered, a thick layer of sadness coating the words. “Money has been the only thing I’ve been interested in my entire life. Even women have come second to it. Do you know I’ve never been in a relationship for more than a couple of months? I’ve been shitty to every woman I’ve ever been with, just dumping them after a few dates because they couldn’t compare to the rush of closing the next big contract. Hell, I’ve been shitty to women I’ve not even dated. Xue is the perfect example of that!”

  “No one is perfect, Cong,” Zhihuan said, his voice soft and low, the gentlest Cong had ever heard from the lawyer.

  “I’m the least perfect man,” Cong snorted.

  “Does Tara think you’re perfect?”

  Cong shook his head, pressing his full lips thin. “No. She’s all too aware of my reputation. I’ve not hidden it.”

  “Then it didn’t matter to her,” Zhihuan told him, his tone brokering no argument. “If it truly bothered her, she wouldn’t have stuck around. The fact that she did should tell you something.”

  “Maybe,” Cong replied, sucking in a deep breath. His skin started to grow cold. “But it doesn’t matter now. She hates me. All women hate me eventually.”

  “You sound like a whiny old woman, Cong. She’s found you in a compromisi
ng position, yes, but you’ve got time to sort it out. Tomorrow morning, you get down to her hotel and try to explain what actually happened.”

  “What if she won’t see me?”

  “She will,” Zhihuan told him firmly. “You’re the Master of Macau. She will see you, even if you have to break down the door. You own that hotel; it’s not as if they can arrest you for breaking your own property.”

  “But they can arrest me for harassment and stalking,” Cong said, chuckling bitterly.

  “I’ve never heard you talking this way before,” Zhihuan said after a pause. “I don’t like it.”

  “Neither do I,” Cong spat, bitterness lacing the words.

  “Well, do something about it. Either that or let her walk away. And I will tell you this for free, Cong. If you do let her go, you’ll regret it. Tara is the one woman apart from Xue who has made the biggest impact on you and in the least amount of time. You love her, you said so yourself. If you love her, you’ll do everything you can to sort out this mess.”

  Cong listened to Zhihuan’s words, his body stilling under their weight. He was right. He had to do something. “Thanks, my friend.”

  “Thank me by sorting out this mess. Then Melissa can get her dinner date. That woman is determined to meet Tara.” With that, and with the sounds of Melissa swearing at her husband in the background, Zhihuan hung up, leaving nothing but a dial tone ringing in Cong’s ear.

  Slowly, he placed the phone back on the desk and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the edges of the wood. Zhihuan was right; Tara had made the biggest impact in his life. Granted, they had known each other for less than a fortnight, but the idea of her walking away from him was nothing but a knife in his chest. He had to sort this out.

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow Tara would see him. He’d make it happen, no matter what it took. A grand gesture, bribery … whatever it took.

  There was no way he was giving up without a fight. He couldn’t just sit here and suck his thumb waiting for someone to make things better.

  He was the Master of Macau, and a true master would never give up.