Max
“YOU NEED TO slow down,” Hal urged, reaching for the glass of whiskey in my hand, but I snatched it back before he could take it. “Fine, have it your way, but don’t complain tomorrow when you feel like you’ve been run over by a semi.” He smirked, and if I could’ve moved quickly enough, I would’ve smacked him for reveling in my misery, but my reaction time slowed with each sip of the liquor.
Leaning back, I rested my head on the top of the leather sofa, the room spinning every time I tried to close my eyes. “I do . . . don’t know how to make her hear me,” I slurred, every syllable a struggle.
“Well, you can start by putting down the glass.” My brother was younger, but right then, he was taking on my role, the role of protector. I should’ve listened to him. I should’ve put down the drink, but all I wanted to do was drown myself in my anguish. I’d finally found a woman who intrigued me, someone who gave meaning to my day, someone for whom I wished away all other distractions just so I could see her again, and she’d been taken away from me in the blink of an eye. All over a grave misunderstanding.
“I don’t wanna feel shit right now,” I barked. Slowly picking my head up, it lolled forward before I’d been able to readjust and look at my brother. My vision blurred and I could barely keep my eyes open, but I refused to give in to anything other than the drink. Speaking of which, my glass had slipped from my hand and sloshed all over the hardwood floor below. There wasn’t much of a mess, however, because I’d been skilled at being able to drain the majority of the contents before the spill.
As I faintly heard Hal grumbling, my body gave out, and I fell to the side, plopping not so gracefully onto the cushions and quickly passing out, not a care in the world as the darkness washed over me.
An ear-piercing sound jerked me awake and at first, I thought it was the fire alarm going off, only to realize it was merely my cell, the noise exemplified tenfold due to the abuse I’d put my body through the previous night. Just as it finally silenced, I took a deep breath only to be jolted again when my phone started to ring once more.
I felt around on the floor until my fingertips grazed the device, slowly pulling my arm back until the cell was in front of me, closer to my ear. Without even bothering to check and see who was calling, I swiped the screen.
“Hello,” I mumbled, trying to pry my tongue from the roof of my mouth, the worst case of cotton mouth I’d ever experienced.
“Mr. Colter? Are you not coming in today?” My secretary’s voice bombarded my eardrum, my eyes immediately popping open in search of a clock. It was 9:30 a.m., a couple hours after I usually started my work day. I stumbled to my feet only to fall onto the couch, knocking my head against the wall. “Shit!”
“Are you okay? Is something wrong?” Linda sounded genuinely concerned.
“I’m fine. I’ll be there in an hour.” After I hung up, I realized I no longer had a job, but I’d be damned if I was going to leave any personal items I had in my office for someone from security to meddle over and throw in a cardboard box.
As I ascended the steps, Hal strolled out into the hallway dressed in workout gear, ready to go for a run. He smiled when he saw me struggling to climb toward him.
“Rough night?” He waited for me at the top, grinning widely when he saw the state I was in. “I told you to slow down,” he teased, laughing when I purposely bumped into him with my shoulder.
“You wait until you have a problem and take to the bottle. You’ll get no sympathy from me.” He said something else, but I didn’t hear him, too focused on putting one foot in front of the other so I didn’t fall flat on my face.
I think I’m still drunk.
An hour later and I was feeling a little better, the shower I’d taken earlier doing wonders. How I felt and how I looked were two different things, however. While I was fully alert, with the aid of some strong headache meds and two cups of coffee, I looked disheveled, even though I was impeccably dressed in a dark gray suit and crisp white shirt. I hadn’t bothered to shave for fear my hand would tremble, and I’d end up cutting myself more times than not, so I donned a five o’clock shadow. My hair wasn’t cooperating, a few strands acting wayward, and dark circles shadowed the underneath of my eyes.
As I approached the building, my breath got caught in my lungs when my eyes landed on the one woman I’d been both hoping and dreading to see. Dreading because I hadn’t prepared a good enough explanation, one that would convince her of the truth without hesitancy. Instead, I’d drowned myself in numbing liquor, throwing out any game plan I should have been contemplating.
Alina was too wrapped up in conversation with some woman to notice me drawing closer.
“You need to go to the police and report it, Tanya. He’s not allowed to come near you.” Alina’s hand rested on the woman’s upper arm in concern. I recognized the name, realizing the woman she was talking to was her pro bono client. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but she was not it. Her short black hair was cut into a stylish bob and the clothes she wore shouted class. Tanya was young and attractive, reminding me domestic violence victims didn’t possess a certain type of “look” like many would think.
“It won’t matter,” she cried, tears escaping and sliding down her cheeks. She appeared genuinely scared. “Look at what he did to you? Do you think he’ll pay attention to some piece of paper?”
Alina was set to respond when I sidled up next to her, startling both her and her client.
“What are you doing here?” Alina asked, taking me in from head to toe. “If my father sees you here, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”
Ignoring her attempt to warn me, I brought the topic back to what I’d just heard. “Where is your husband,” I asked Tanya, taking a step closer to her than was necessary. She looked surprised, glancing at her attorney before looking back to me.
“W-what?” she stuttered, nervously fidgeting with the strap of her designer purse. She knew where he was and was protecting him for some reason. My silence prompted her to speak again. “I . . . I do . . . don’t know,” she lied.
“Yes, you do. And my suggestion is you tell the police right now so they can arrest him for assaulting your goddamn lawyer.” The strength in my voice frightened the woman. I hadn’t meant to do so, but my concern lay only with Alina’s well-being, even if she didn’t want to have anything to do with me.
“Max,” Alina warned, turning to glare at me. “Stop it.”
“She needs to turn him in, if not, I’m sure he’ll come after you again.” My heart rammed against my chest, adrenaline coursing through me with the fear if something wasn’t done soon, Alina could meet with a tragic fate.
Reminding her she was still in danger, Alina turned to face her client again. “Tanya, if you know where he is, you have to tell the police. They can protect you from him.”
“I’m scared,” she confessed, burying her head in her hands, her shoulders trembling. Alina pulled her into a hug, doing her best to offer both sympathy and support.
“I know you are, but if you don’t do anything now, he’ll never stop.” After several moments, Tanya Glinn finally agreed to go to the police but only if Alina accompanied her, which meant they were going to have a third wheel, no matter how much protesting happened.