TWO

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Mourning.

It drives someone to a lot of possibilities life can't seem to give. Gives us the need to be what we aren't and wonder what it would be like if positions were reversed. If I had the chance to go back in time to change things, I would.

Unfortunately, mourning is something I'm well accustomed with.

The disgusted look I had on my face as my eyes bore the smelly, rotting, bloody head of my father in the sack delivered to me that day replays in my head as I drown another glass of alcohol painfully down my throat.

Anchester, my very close acquaintance and enemy of my father, had no remorse with dismembering my father's body and delivering it to me via my request. Now I have to suffer and live with the guilt of not being there when it happened. Even after months, father’s death plagues my soul.

The fall of the mighty, most feared San Su Li.

I hit my hand on the counter and it makes a loud thud as the tumbler entangled between my fingers came in contact with the pebble counter. "More." I growl to the bartender.

He obeys.

One thing about losing a mighty man whom one grew up knowing while witnessing his escapades is, it changes one's perspective. Even the mighty fall. How soon it will be depends on the man holding the power. He decides how long he'll thrive till it's his turn to crumble. In the end, it's all vanity. How I wish I'm not alive to suffer this unbearable pain in my heart due to his departure. His permanent departure.

It hurts. Saying it out loud makes it hurt even more, thinking about his death is agonising and accepting it is another kind of suffering I resist to let myself dive into but no matter how much I try to avoid the truth, it's cold, hard evidence was delivered to me.

The worst part about his death is. . . we never had a good father-son bond. It was never there and now, I never will have the chance to build one.

My father, San Su Li, creeps on this earth no more and the only thing left to show he ever existed are his ash remains and barely managing businesses.

Dwelling on this fact won't do me good in the long run tonight.

My whole life is crumbling and I'm allowing it because I can't take it anymore. That mighty man is my father! Was my father.

I swig another glass down my throat.

I don't think I want to follow in father's footsteps. The influence so many men seem to worship and gnash their teeth trying to acquire is something I'd love to avoid. Especially now.

But my mind is torn. Growing up, I never wanted to be like my father, now I want to be like him and relive his legacy. While doing things right.

If I actually can.

I drown another half full tumbler and groan. A sharp pain taints my pharynx as the alcohol runs down my throat, pinching my insides. I enjoy the twinge that comes with every swallow. It helps me forget everything bothering me. These days, my drunken state is my best state so I occupy myself with alcohol while visiting different kinds of pubs and clubs.

I love being wasted. I love not being able to think even for a minute. Of course I feel shitty immediately after the alcohol wears off and drinking this much has a toll on my health and body but I won't stop. Not till I'm completely numb to this pain creeping into my head.

"Keep it coming." I say to the bartender. He eyes me carefully for a second before walking back behind the display wall behind the counter to take a tumbler from the rack of glasses. I'm spent but haven't hit the point where I'm not so sober to think.

A buzz in my pocket catches my attention. I dip my hand in my pocket to pick up my phone. Normally, I would ignore the interruption but the caller is Emily. The one woman my heart desired for a long time but couldn’t have.

I stare at my screen long enough to notice my reflection. I look like shit. My dull eyes are swollen and red with eye bags. My hair is still perfectly styled in sharp, thin, blade-like strands shooting out like a mix of curls and wavy spikes. The tip of my nose has the typical feverish pink hue. Funnily, I still look pleasant to behold. More reason why I need to drink more.

The call ends. Before I can dip my phone in my pocket, another call drops, lighting up my screen.

"Halt with the drinks and keep the seat. I'll be back." I say to the bartender. I don't know if keeping seats is allowed but I wasn't requesting. My tone said do not defy me, plus, if this place treats me well, I might become a regular.

I stand and walk to the door. The music is too loud for me to hear anything properly in here so I'm stepping outside.

The moment the cold night's breeze brush my skin, I inhale and stroll to the side then pick the call.

"Hello?" A soft voice resonates in my ears. It's Emily's. I never knew how much I missed hearing her voice till now.

"Emily," I murmur under my breath, trying to sound sane. "I've missed you." What a surprise.

"Me too. As much as I'd love the small talk, I have a hungry man to satisfy and insanely starving hormones while enjoying my honeymoon but someone decides to go rogue as he has been for two months." She blurts. This puts a smile on my face.

"You're keeping tabs on me now? What happened to enjoying your husband?" I chuckle, obviously enjoying the tease. Did I forget to add that she’s married? And to Anchester, the killer of my father. Our history runs deep yet it’s so fucked up but as shocking as any eye would find it, there is no bad blood between either of us.

"Keeping tabs? No." Her voice is cheery. Loud slurps slips into my ears after each word she utters. I'm glad she's having a great time. "However, having random calls and texts from a psycho step sister who's worried about her brother whom she has a crush on during my honeymoon? Yes. And I'd like that to stop."

Anastasia. That’s my half sister.

I thought she lost feelings for me long ago, I guess Emily doesn't know that yet.

"Mm, if I didn't know better, I'd say you sound concerned." I murmur, trying to divert the conversation from Ana.

There's a short pause at her end. Her exhale is audible through the speakers. "I am. Very much." Emily finally says. "I can't help but be, Cameron. Especially when I can't be there."

My throat tightens. Being far from me is the best thing she can do for me because deep down, I know I still have lingering feelings for her and I'd hate her seeing me like this. Maybe I won't even be drunk if she's here. That's a maybe I'd never know.

"I'm fine. I know it doesn't seem that way but it's just a phase." I sniff.

"Lasting for two months?"

That ticked my nerves. "I lost my father, Emily!" I blurt out angrily. "We might not have had the best relationship and he was shitty to you but that doesn't change the fact that I was related to him and he raised me all my life!" She was quiet. I hate that she's quiet. I should take time to breathe before I lash out on her more than I already have. "And I'm sure we both know it took you years to get over yours." That was unnecessary, I shouldn't have said that. Emily’s dad died when she was a child. Due to the trauma that caused her, she relocated out of the country till she was an adult and her relocation was only due to deception her mother made her believe. Now she’s built a life here and healed from his death and every secret intertwined with it. I sigh, remembering this makes it even clearer why I should’ve shut up instead.

I'm fucked up. This is why I don't want to associate with anybody I know right now. I just need some air and my space. No matter how long that may be, I deserve it.

"Cameron," She starts. My throat creases, dryness panging at the depth of it. "I'm not mad at you. I never will be. I know what it's like to lose someone. I just don't want you to handle it the wrong way. I care about you, Cameron and being in your shoes once, I know that trying to meet your father down there won't bring the peace or bond you wish you two had."

Don't you think I know that?! I'm tempted to ask but I don't. I won't make her my assertive anger punch bag.

"I need you to know I'm here for you whenever you need me. Anytime. Anyday." Her voice is soft. Those words are surely comforting. I fancy her effort.

"I'll handle it my way."

"I know. And I'm not saying that you shouldn't. But when you're done doing it your way, I'm just a phone call away."

Fuck this. Why did she have to call me when my emotions are a mess? I can feel my eyes get watery. "Thank you, Emily. I needed that."

I hear a chuckle. "Now, enjoy getting drunk."

I will. "Bye. Have a lovely honeymoon." I say calmly.

I hang up before she could say a word but my mind already guessed her response to that. Probably a 'you bet I will' or 'don't have to tell me twice'. Or not, I can't tell.

I turn off my phone and dip my hand in my pocket. I don't need any more distractions tonight, like I said, I'll handle my grieving my way.

I waltz back into the club. A grin forms on my face when I sight the empty seat I left. It was reserved. I guess this bartender will be tipped well tonight.

"Five glasses of the same thing." I say to him and sit.

"Five shots coming right up." The bartender mutters and leaves to get my order. He returns not long after and serves the tumblers in front of me and fills them all in front of me. I wrap my hand around one and gush it to my mouth.

I wince after swallowing. It's strong. Very strong, just the way I want it. It won't take me long till my head can't distinguish a person from two. For the mean time, I might as well look for something entertaining.

I adjust in my seat to look around. The tired expression on my face didn't leave. I'm surrounded by women yet I feel nothing.

Another glass makes its way to my mouth and I swallow with one shot, examining the place.

My eyes widen.

I can feel my heart stop for a second, monitoring the woman dancing on stage. I don't have to look at my face to know how captivated I am. I can tell I'm amused.

Dancing erotically on a stage is the sexiest woman I've set my eyes upon tonight. I let my eyes soak her presence in that netty dress hugging her skin so tightly that it reveals what she's wearing underneath.

Even from far away, I can tell the material is flimsy. I so desperately want to rip it off her. Her movements are glorious and I can tell by the confidence in her steps that she knows what she's doing. She intends to dance this way. But she seems bored.

That's a look I've had before so I know. Like right now, I know what it's like to fake it. This distant, shared boredom creates a bond that draws me to her more than her body does.

The seductress on stage locks eyes with mine then quickly looks away. I find myself grinning with amusement before I could even notice how my body responded.

I can feel my hardness throb against my zipper.

Has this lady been dancing there the whole night? How the fuck did I not notice?

Her face...., my eyes lower to her neck, then to her tits. They're barely hidden in the thin strap securing only her nipples. My cock hardens even more.

Who is she? I stand and walk closer to get a better view without taking my eyes off her promiscuous body. I want to get a better view. I need to. She dances to capture not only the attention but the heart of her viewers with only one intention in mind. To woo. Entrap their minds into desiring her.

It's working.

I can feel my body intertwine with the movement of her fingers. My attention is drawn to her slutty waist and hips. I want my hands all over her skin. Her legs widens and the woman collapses her upper body on the floor then humps her hips on the ground, grinding into the floor.

I was in this club to clear my head and enjoy the bitter taste of alcohol as it whiles my sorrows away now my tongue wants to linger on something else.

Rather, on someone else. And I'd be damned if I leave here tonight without having to.

I think I've already found my ticket to distraction. All through the time I spent watching her, my head blacked out every other part of the world.

She locks eyes with me again. Unlike the previous time, I can tell this was intentional. Because I caught her searching for me.

Her eyes wandered to the spot I was at in desperation till it landed here and she did not look anywhere else. The smirk she tries to hide didn't pass me by. From the sync of her hips and every part of her body to the music's rhythm while her eyes are on me, I can tell she's curious about me too.

I don't let my eyes off her and she kept hers on mine. Someone walks to my side. "Are you ready to bet, sir?" The man asks.

My brow raises with interest. Without looking at my side, I question. "Bet? For what?"

"The dancer you'd have privately tonight."

Oh? My night keeps getting better.

"Is that lady included?" My fingers cup on my chin and I point a finger at the stage without taking it off.

"Yes, sir."

A grin slowly forms on my face. "What's her name?"

"Her stage name is Cleopatra."

Cleopatra. I can see why.

"How do we claim our prize?"

"By participating in the betting."

You don't say. This man is too dumb for my liking.

"We use chip tags." He quickly adds after my silence. It's hard to keep my attention on two things at once although my focus is solely on her. "Whatever amount you wager will be added to it after it's registered."

"What do I need to be registered?" I'm deprived. A starving man is a dangerous man. In the sea of men, I'd be a fool to assume no one wants her for himself.

"Hold on, sir." I wait, keeping myself entertained by her. The way her silky long hair falls on her wet, oily skin to the way her plum lips and tongue curls strips me of every thing tagging me as a gentleman. Because my dirty thoughts concerning her are anything but gentle. "Name?" The man finally asks.

"C." I say.

"ID number?" It's a number given to every person who walks in the club. It's easier to administer payment that way.

"Forty five."

"Start price you'd like to wager?"

I pause to think. Cleopatra just ripped her dress in front of me. I won't let any man be with her now. Not after I've gotten a graphic glimpse of how she looks nearly naked.

"Whatever the highest bidder wagers on her. Quadruple it."

Cleopatra walks off the stage. The movement of her hips makes my body cave. I won't let there be a chance where someone who's not me spend a night alone with her tonight.

"What are the limitations of going private?"

"Everything will be revisited with you before and once she enters your room."

We're given rooms? Perfect. I just found my early ticket to get high.

We'll be meeting again soon, Cleopatra.