All because I want to see him, because he doesn’t want to see me, because he is sending me to be someone else’s problem and no longer wants anything to do with me, because he is taking what I worked so hard for away. I know this is why this heightened panic has hit me in this way, this sense that tonight is the last chance I will have of seeing him. Getting this out between us!
He is not an easy guy to get time with as he’s always shrouded with his men or moves around a lot. You don’t just bump into someone like Alexi very often if you do not move in his circles, and once I am out of his loop I will probably never find him again, never get to see my club, my baby, ever again.
I don’t quite know how I manage it, being that I can barely see straight, but somehow I get a tube ride downtown and end up two blocks from the club while still slurring every word coming out of my mouth and walking like an injured fawn.
People are avoiding me as the crazy drunk woman who is still sobbing her heart out, and I am more than aware of the pathetic spectacle I am making of myself. Typical New Yorkers avoiding something they deem is none of their business.
I know I am pretty much signing my death certificate by coming here and trying to see him, and I have no idea what to say or what I will do when faced with him, but all rationale has gone out the window and all my blurry stupid head is repeating is ‘’Find Alexi’’ I just need to see him. I have a speech in my head of what I want to say, angry and sad at the same time, my mind turning over a chaos of words and accusations that I know I wouldn’t have the guts to say if I was sober.
I walk the rest of the way as the rain turns to drizzle and I’m soaked through to my underwear. My hair is still tied up in a ponytail and acting as a tap for the water to run down my back and into my boots. I feel like my clothes are stuck to every part of me and I must look like I went swimming while fully clothed. I just have nothing else on my brain than the task I have set myself upon, too stupidly, drunkenly stubborn for my own good.
When I get close to the back alley I start sticking to the shadows and avoiding the street lights. If any of his men catch sight of me then it's game over, and they will stop me before I get to see him. Mico will march my arse right back to the upper side and dump me back in that apartment and probably chain me to a bed.
It’s not lost on me that hours ago I was making a break for it and running away from this man, and yet here I am stalking him stupendously in a bid to see him once more, even if I am planning on telling him a few home truths and where he can go fuck himself when I am done.
This is how crazily fucked up he makes me and I have no idea which way is up anymore. I'm doing dumb arse things in a bid to claw back some sanity.
I get to the street which runs down the side of the club and the secret side entrance and hide behind some bins to watch for security. The door is closed and it’s still only ten p.m., so the club won’t be open just yet. Lately, he has been pushing entry time to eleven and I can guess that the door staff won’t be standing behind it this early. I know the code for the entry pad and I just need to slide in unseen.
I look around for cars back here, the closed off car park they use, and I don’t see Mico’s car or any that Alexi is normally chauffeured around in and start doubting he is even here. Heart sinking with the realisation that maybe I just ‘‘Mission Impossibled’’ it over here for absolutely nothing.
Almost as though fate willed it, I see headlights flash my way and I recoil to hide behind the metal container out of sight as a sleek dark sports car slides into the car park. I recognise it as the one he brought to the Hamptons the night I ran away. Its Alexi’s car for sure, if not his then Gino’s, and I stay concealed while the engine tones down to a hum, signalling he is parking.
I slide out as it manoeuvres to a stop quickly and brush the rain out of my eyes, so I can see who is getting out. He has his back to me and it could be either of them, dressed in dark jeans and a t-shirt under a leather jacket, annoyingly causal. It’s not normally an Alexi outfit, but there’s something about him that screams Alexi rather than Gino and I cannot pinpoint it.
I watch with bated breath, taking in the trainers and casual attire from the back and really doubting this isn’t Gino. When he turns sideways I catch sight of his neck tattoo and my heart elevates to a rapid beat, confirming I was right. This is Alexi, looking very Saturday night rather than workday chic and achingly handsome.
I have to catch the sudden urge to sob and inhale quickly to calm the instant lack of breath and prickle of tears at seeing him again. I already feel frail and close to meltdown but now I have the added palpitations and shaking limbs to go with it, my heart upping its beat and my palms getting clammy, despite being sodden from the rain.