I made my way to a club in Birmingham that night, needing to get my head straight after everything that had happened in my shit-show of a life recently. Walking into Pryzm, I made my way to the bar, ready to get hammered.
Needing to forget.
"Jack Daniels please," I sighed to the barman, exhausted.
"Coming right up."
He poured me the drink, and I slammed down enough money on the table to keep the drinks coming all night. I drank the alcohol, allowing it to burn down my throat, not stopping for a breath.
Wishing that something would numb the empty feeling inside of me.
One shot.
Two shots.
Three shots.
Whole bottles.
My vision getting hazier with every swallow, the loud music roaring in my ears, making every single nerve of mine stand on edge.
Blood pounding throughout my body as I continued to immerse myself in my surroundings.
I thought about my father's pleading face as he died. How the color drained out of his face, as he stopped fighting for his life.
And I blamed myself.
I fucking blamed myself for all of this. For the mess I'd created.
There was no coming back from my countless fuck-up's. I was a fucking monster. I watched my own father die in my arms.
I blinked several times, willing myself to stand up, but I slumped back down in my chair, feeling tears pool in my eyes.
Every memory coming back to haunt me like a form of motherfucking torture.
Just like I knew it would.
I needed it to stop.
I wanted to scream.
To scream until my throat went dry. To scream until my voice-box collapsed on me, and my lungs wouldn't allow me to scream anymore.
I saw a woman on the other side of the bar lock her eyes with mine. She had jet black hair, big blue eyes, a pointed nose, creamy skin, plump, juicy pink lips that would look good wrapped around my fucking cock. Big thighs, big tits, a big ass. Thick and busty, just how I liked my women.
Maybe fucking would be my only solution right now.
Fucking and forgetting.
She walked over to me, in those tall skyscraper fuck-me high-heels, and she was wearing a tiny outfit, leaving little to the imagination. Just thinking about her in her lacy bra and knickers, wearing just her high-heels…
Was enough to push me over the fucking edge.
"Hey," she smiled, pouting, playing around with her hair with her finger.
"Hey," I replied bluntly, looking at her up and down with a predatory regard. My eyes darkening with desire the more I drunk in her big frame, her beautiful fucking face.
"You on your own, too?" she asked, biting her lip.
"What does it look like?" I sneered, folding my arms.
"Want me to keep you company?"
"Look darling, I don't do small talk," I snarled. "We both know full well you only came over here for one thing. So how about you quit the angel act and cut to the fucking chase?"
I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her closer to me, closing the little space we had between us, and a gasp escaped her lips.
"I fuck hard. Rough. Nasty. Fast," I rasped against her ear, causing her to shudder, and goosebumps to rise on her skin. Tracing circles on the small of her back, letting her get ready for me. Allowing her skin to burn underneath my touch. "You live round here, darling?"
"Yeah, my apartment is two blocks away," she moaned.
"You wanna get out of here, then?" I smirked, planting a kiss on her neck.
She gave me a feeble nod, taking my hand in hers, leading me straight out of the club. Hardly able to walk straight after the encounter we'd just had.
Hell, if I'd got her this undone with just a few words, I could only imagine how much she'd moan and scream when we did the real thing.
I continued to walk unsteadily, the alcohol still spinning around my system. As I reached the exit of the club, I was shocked when I saw Fizz standing there with his arms folded, looking at me with a deadly expression on his face.
"What the fuck are you playing at, bro?" Fizz snarled.
"What does it look like? I'm having fun," I sneered.
Fizz's eyes darted towards the lady I had hanging on my arm, and he threw me a look of disgust.
"What do you think you're playing at? You already have a girlfriend and you're out here getting hammered, about to fuck another woman? Is one girl not enough for you?" he seethed.
Fizz was right. I did have a woman in my life, but it was a woman I didn't fucking care for. A woman my father set me up with a long time ago, insisting that it was good for business.
I met her through one of my father's friends – Zane. She was Zane's daughter, and her name was Evelina. She was a pretty woman, I had to admit. Dark brown hair, gorgeous brown skin, brown eyes, arched eyebrows, a slim, petite frame. But I had only been with her for the sake of my Pops.
She was a very materialistic woman. She didn't care that I didn't spend time with her, as long as I bought her shit that she wanted, and kept her sweet at home. And then came home to her bed.
She probably knew that I slept with other women. Hell, she'd probably known for a long time. But she knew she didn't really have a say in the matter. She didn't want this marriage any more than I did. I was sure of it.
But it was the Mafia. Everything we did was for the family's sake – or money's. I didn't love her, heck, I hardly spent any time with her, yet she stayed at home, loyal to me like a little lap dog. I couldn't care less about her.
"Stay out of my business, Fizz. I need this. I'm not feeling right," I hissed in my own defense.
"Like I give a fuck about how you're feeling," Fizz shot back. "Evelina won't be happy about this, and I don't wanna be around to answer to her whining bitch-ass complaining. You're hammered off your face, your Pops has passed away, and a lot of shit has happened. I don't want you going home with this woman, knowing that you're gonna do some shit you're gonna regret later. You need to grieve, Luca. This isn't the fucking solution."
"How the fuck did you find me, anyway?" I asked, narrowing my eyes, because Birmingham was quite a distance away from Manchester.
"I had to track you down, knowing that you were gonna do some stupid shit," Fizz snarled.
"Go home to your wife, Fizz," I sighed, knowing that the woman I was carrying on my arm was getting uncomfortable watching mine and his heated argument. "Let me do whatever the fuck I want. Drunk or not, I know full well what I'm doing. You can't stop me."
Fizz took his head into his hands, exasperated. "You never fucking listen to me, bro, even when you know I'm the only one out here that's got your back when you do stupid shit to fuck up the family. Everyone wants your head for what you did, and I'm the one left keeping it together, cleaning up your mess, picking up the fucking pieces. Making sure nobody puts a bullet in you. Just goes to show how much I really mean to you."
He rattled his fists angrily, before turning on his heel, walking away from me. I could feel my chest burning, as I watched him walk away from me. My only friend – my brother – but my pride and ego was too fucking high and inflated to want to call him back and apologize. I felt terrible that this was the way I made Fizz feel, but I had my own way of dealing with grief, and this was the way I was going to fucking deal with it. When all this shit blew over, I knew that Fizz would come round and understand why I did the shit that I did. But for now, I just needed time and headspace to myself. Away from my family…
And away from Fizz.
"I'm sorry that you had to see all that," I muttered to the lady on my arm.
"It's okay," she mumbled. "If you want me to leave, I can go. We can do this another time."
"No, I want you to stay," I groaned. She gave me a small, appreciative smile. "Carry on leading the way to your apartment."
She nodded, and we continued to walk. I turned around, wanting to see if Fizz was still there. And he was standing there, dithering on the pavement, giving me a disappointed, angry glance, as his eyes burned into my back as I left.
***