His Addiction

Two years ago,  "Advocate Winchester, I was just on my way to the post office." On my way to the subway, my phone vibrated in my bag. Stopping at the side of a busy street in São Paulo, I turned to the side of an alley and picked up the call from my lawyer. She gasped, not believing what I told her, "Y---you got all the certificates? That's great! The next hearing is next week. Your presence here is very much needed, Emily, even if it is your friend's parents taking her custody. Do you want me to book a ticket for you?" "I still need grandpa's signature, ma'am. Mom's share would save my sister. You know that." My eyes welled up the more I thought about it. Bringing the cell close to my mouth, I started walking while I tried hard to keep my voice even. "He knows I am here, but he didn't allow me in his home or even let his butler tell me where they admitted dad this time. I know dad isn't in a good state." My father raised me alone. He was always there for me whenever I needed him. For my happiness, he could give me the whole world. But I couldn't be there. I lost my right to be with my father when I chose to leave my home with my three-year-old sister. I saw the bus leaving that I wanted to catch for the post office. If I had taken off running, I wouldn't have missed that, yet I stood there in my place as it triggered the memory of that day when the authority of children and family development took my sister from my home. I could never explain how much it hurt to see the child I had to raise taken away from me. There was a time I did wrong to her too. My grandparents brought her home when she was not even two, a fruit of one of my parents' extra-marital affairs. The everyday quarrel between my parents made me hate her so much that I tried not to walk past her room. Everything changed that day when I eventually accepted her and prayed to God to make things right between our parents so we could be a happy family. That wish soon took mom from us. . .and dad. We had to admit him to the mental health hospital. Mrs. Winchester sneered. "I wish I could take some legal action against that man, but that would delay the process." My grandpa wasn't someone one should cross. I wouldn't have known how he was until he went to dad's home and asked for Cheryl. To send her back from wherever he found her. "And I don't want my sister to suffer more," I said in a deadpan tone. "I will keep you updated if I get anything we could use to win the case. I might be late, but I will come back soon. Please help my friend's parents to get her custody. That is what I want." "We will win this case, Emily. But you have to give me your word. No matter what happens, you will not remove the locket I gave you." My eyes traveled down from the silk stole around my neck, and I noticed the locket of my chain through my floral shirt. "Keep your phone close to you. Call that number on your speed dial immediately if you feel like you're in danger, alright?" If only you knew why I had to visit my psychiatrist once a month during his lunch break. Yet, I promised my lawyer, "I'll, ma'am." Even the doctor's assistant had to force a smile on her face to hide her irritation whenever she saw me stepping into the clinic. One day the doc would feel the same when he would finally open his eyes and start seeing me as a burden. Of course, he would. Just because he was mom's friend doesn't change the fact that I had been using him since he extended his helping hand to me. He helped me so many times with my mental health, but I couldn't pay him. How could I pay him when I had to save money for the case? I had to wait for another fifteen minutes for the right bus that would drop me near the post office on the way. The envelope in my bag would decide my sister's destiny. It didn't matter to the court that I had dropped my career as a professional swimmer and worked three different places in a day to earn more so I could provide for that girl. Even the one million dollars I saved for her wasn't enough, as money wasn't everything. To them, I was incapable. I wasn't responsible enough to raise a baby. Then for whom would I want to live? A reason I needed to keep this life and go on. Like the bustle of people, I took in my surroundings. Tired eyes even looked lively as if they knew their reasons. Most of them were returning from their workplace with groceries in their hands. . .like they had someone waiting at home, a family for whom they would cook delicious items for dinner. It was another Friday night, after all. A person wouldn't want to waste that time hanging out with a bunch of drunk strangers in a bar. From a distance, I caught a familiar model of the Cadillac XTS coming towards the stoppage where I had been standing for the last couple of minutes. My grandpa usually traveled in that same black car. Could it be him? My mood brightened up instantly when I remembered I still had those papers with me where I wanted his signature to get my mother's share that she had in dad's company. It was shameless of me to demand her assets, but I needed that money desperately to get my sister back in my life. Please let it be him. Please, Lord. Please let it be my grandpa. I started walking toward the car, keeping my eyes on the windshield. I would chase that car if I saw my grandpa in the back seat. The car suddenly slowed down with a jerk as it halted with a screeching sound at a distance, making my heart rate spike up in dreading anticipation. I moved closer to get a better view of the passengers inside, at least as I had seen all of my grandpa's drivers in his mansion in this city, but it killed all my hopes effortlessly when I didn't see any familiar faces in the driver's seat of that car. Maybe he is grandpa's new driver! You know how he changes every worker in his mansion frequently. After reasoning with myself in my mind, I walked by the side of one of the streets of São Paulo and stopped only four feet away from that Cadillac XTS. Though I couldn't see who was sitting in the back seat clear from that distance, I felt in my skin that he was watching me. And that look I got from the bulky person in the passenger seat was enough to have my heart jump in my throat. Yet I didn't step back and check the time on my wristwatch instead. Raising my chin, I put an annoyed scowl on my face and pushed past the travelers or passengers from my way while I pretended to see the vehicles behind that damn car in the middle of the road. Let's have a look, okay? To make sure it wasn't grandpa in the backseat, I thought about walking past the car, and I did it holding my breath. The light in my eyes dimmed again when I saw a suited man in his late twenties on that seat, and my face fell in dismay before I could stop myself. Well. . .we understand you have been struggling with your life to make things right, but why are you so hell-bent on ruining others' day? Do you think only you have problems and others don't? You can't sulk in disappointment in front of a stranger like that! My subconscious mind sneers at me, making me jerk my chin up and see the car to my side. Though that tinted black glass didn't let me notice that man's expression in the backseat that clear, the jaded burn on my face made it quite obvious I pissed him off for good. I muttered a quick apology before walking past that car, hoping he wouldn't take it that I had cursed him or something like that. I left the stoppage far behind me, but I couldn't bring myself to turn around and go back because that car was still there. The driver was outside, checking the tires and the engine, maybe because their car broke down, and then I saw the bus stand become crowded suddenly as the suited man finally stepped out of the car with that scary-looking tall bodybuilder guy in the passenger seat. A frown married on my face when people took out their phones and began taking shots of that platinum blonde-haired man. "OMG! Guys! Look who we have here!" "Bash! Oh, lord. Is that him?" "Argh! I can't believe my luck. May I take a picture with you?" "Can we have your autograph, please? I am so glad to meet you, sir." "I am a great fan of yours, Bash." Some starry-eyed Portuguese beauties even came forward with a pen and pad in their hand, but that man's eyes were not on them but me. And he didn't look pleased to see me at all, yet he ran his gaze boringly on me from head to toe, which was downright creepy. Gulping hard, I looked away from him and hoped my bus would come a little earlier than its scheduled time. I dared not to pray that to God because he considered me his favorite child, who he loved to trouble for entertainment. Once, I prayed to that sweet man in heaven for a peaceful family, and he took both my agitated parents away from my life. I asked him to bless my boyfriend and me to be good parents to Cheryl, and he made me a single parent. I begged him to take my pain away from my heart, and he pushed me to face the hardships a single parent faces in those legal battles to take their child home. Still, I didn't take the hint and again prayed to him for that man to be my grandpa in that damn car, and look how that cold-faced celeb was coming toward me. My knees began to shake in dread. The strap of my bag turned wet from the sweat in my hands. I held my breath, and my desperate eyes looked for a cab, but they were full of passengers, and even if they didn't have one, they wouldn't stop for me. I caught sight of a bus coming which wouldn't pass by the street close to the post office, yet I decided to take it to avoid that possible danger. Waving my hand, I made that bus halt and took the stairs quickly, intending to take my seat close to a group of passengers on both sides. Though the bus wasn't full of travelers, I found only one vacant seat available to sit in, so I took that and thought about taking a lift afterward. I thought I would get away from that man, but my heart dropped in my stomach when he took the bus with that stud. I fixed my gaze on the striped bag in my lap, not wanting him to see me, but I heard footsteps, and he stood just by my seat. My throat went dry in fear. I moved closer to my seatmate in the window seat, even though I knew that lady wouldn't do much help because she was asleep with her headphones on. The messy-haired group before and behind me were uniformed. . .who could not be the students from the private business school nearby because of the heated discussion about who was best at roasting their spitting and sleeping beauty lab teachers for being annoyingly stingy about giving two extra marks and charging money, then and now, for already broken test tubes! But why do they sound oblivious to the presence of this celebrity here? Fluttering my eyelashes, I picked at this man standing by my seat and hiccuped to see him in a black face mask with dark glasses. I looked away and forced myself to act indifferent even when my eyes showed me a red flag. His car broke down, so he had to take that bus. Anyone in his place would have done the same too. To terrorize someone who had no idea about his identity couldn't bring him here, right? I was just an ordinary-looking girl with three sets of dresses she repeated every week. And he looked far more qualified to be the annihilator. Who I had no count of anyway. But I had my hoodie on, so they could only get my side view. . .not my entire face, which only this celeb could see if I let him. He didn't say anything or even react, which was a relief. And I started to let my guard down and turned my gaze towards the window. The ticket collector came toward my seat, and I paid my fare, even though my heart ached to hand him my dinner fees. I hoped my roommate would be kind enough to let me use her induction to boil my water and give me some sugar for my coffee. A few stoppages later, my seatmate stirred from her seat and got up after shoving her headphones in her bag. Quite naturally, I shifted to the window seat, as that one had always been my favorite, well, of course, excluding the flight, as I had a fear of heights, and then, in the meantime, I forgot about that man who now took mine with no good intentions in his eyes. I froze when a hand reached for the window's handle at my side. It nearly brushed my cheek, and I had to press my back tight into my seat. Holding my breath, I watched that man from the corner of my eyes and saw his already on mine, not on the window he was trying to open. The sweat on his forehead and his nose made me feel bad for this man, as the endurance of humidity in the summertime in Brazil didn't look like a cup of tea to him, even if it was average that day. Showing my palm, I waved and hinted at him to move his hand from the window, to which he complied like the good man he was. He had it slippery, the lock, I mean. I pressed my lips in a thin line and opened them for him, much to my dismay. I never liked the odor of burned rubber on the tires. It made me sick, so I ground my teeth and pressed my back more into the seat. "Are you from here?" I choked in my saliva when I heard that from him. Releasing the breath I had to hold for a while, I asked, forcing him a smile, "Why?" "Do you know this area?" That man showed me a written address in red ink on the paper, taking it out of his chest pocket. My throat again went dry when it turned out the bar I worked at night. I felt my palms getting sweaty because that ink was also triggering. My nerve would have given out if he hadn't added the next thing, "I have a friend to meet. Where is the next train station, if I may ask?" He sounded polite, and that was enough to put me at ease. "Oh. . .this bus will take you directly, but you have to wait for nearly two hours as it covers most of the streets of this entire city." Getting a grip on myself, I suggested to him, "Better if you take a cab after seven stoppages from here. . .if you are in a hurry." "Guess I have to take your advice. . ." He sighed and took that note away from me. I didn't think of the need to press the matter more. So as I was about to turn my gaze back to the window, that small smile I had on my face that always appeared when the cool breeze outside touched my face now fell when he said in a deep baritone voice with his mouth very close to mine, "Even though you are the first woman who looked at me in disappointment, I can't be that mean to you now that you have helped me with the address, can I ?" My blood ran cold with fear. After turning my head to his side, I looked at him, speechless. I was petrified of how smooth his voice sounded. Making me crave my favorite dessert, cheesecake, and black coffee in a lush green forest and white sand turquoise blue water beach. Then I noticed his eyes behind those dark shades he had on. The color of his eyes wasn't possible for me to see, but I felt how cold they were as he lingered on my face. In other circumstances, I would have apologized to him. That sorry word was still there on the tip of my tongue, yet I couldn't say that aloud. He could be some Prince of arrogance, but my mother loved to call me the Queen of stubbornness. Judging by how pale my face was from not having a proper meal for the last few days, he mistook that for my fear that I felt intimidated by him, so he chuckled with a scoff and took out his phone while relaxing his tall suited and booted figure in that seat. His brows knitted when he tapped on the screen several times, but it didn't open. Pressing the power button on the side of his iPhone, he tried to unlock it, and again the result was the same. I turned my head to the other side with an expression of oblivion. My eyes enlarged when my cell vibrated in my bag. After a cough, I had to press my thighs together to hide that noise, but I nearly squirmed when that man cursed loudly, groaning in annoyance, "Oh, s**t. My phone is dead now. Can I use yours?" Gripping my bag tight, I looked at him, who sneered at me, "It's my mom I want to call. She is worried about me as she knows how I hate to lose. I lost my deal today to my competitor, you know. So, it can't put me in a good mood, and then your face..., " He let his voice linger, eyes gazing at me disapprovingly. The look he gave me made me feel like I was the one to blame for him having a bad day. And that boiled my blood. I didn't even know him. How could he expect me to fangirl him? If that's what he expected from me, then sorry, I was not good at faking things. Lowering my gaze, I lied through my teeth, "I don't have a phone." "You don't!" He laughed drily. "Then whose phone is vibrating in that handbag on your lap?" I got goosebumps on my skin, feeling his eyes on my bag. My cell phone wasn't vibrating then, but maybe he had heard that sound when I received a message a moment ago. "Outgoing call not available on this number. . .the recharge plan has expired, I mean." "Oh? That's bad!" He sounded concerned about me. Though what I said was the half-truth, it turned things even creepier when he played with his expensive handset, tossing and twisting causally like he wouldn't care if that broke, and then I heard his amused laughter. "How poor can someone be to do monthly recharge on her number." Bringing his face closer, he asked in curiosity, "Or it is your daddy who caught you stalking people like us, so he chose this hard way to put a leash on his little girl?" I would have thought he was talking about the monthly allowance some parents hand to their children, but no, it didn't sound like that. He meant something way too dirty, and an instant disgust rose in my heart for him. I wished those kids were quiet and hadn't lost their calm with their teachers. Their blunt português courses, making even the driver laugh with the rest of their passengers. Glaring at that man, I stood up, "Move, please. My stoppage is here." But he didn't take the hint. I regretted the moment I chose the window seat when I had that creep on my side. "How old are you?" He asked, tilting his head at me. His gaze on my body made me uncomfortable, so I spat, clutching my bag tight, "Old enough to throw a harassment case at you." "So do I. . .for stalking me all the way here, Miss. The footage there with you circling my car would make it obvious." My cheeks turned as white as a sheet after hearing him. His no-nonsense confession screamed I would be in trouble. He could use that street footage to put me behind the bar skillfully, but why did he keep calling me a stalker? He was the one who followed me here on the bus and stood by my seat. He even asked me for my phone! Didn't he have his gym guy here with him? That question made me look up, only to look down, seeing that stud standing a few rows before our seat, watching me like I was some criminal. "But don't worry, lass. I'll not do that," His voice took me out of the trance. Moving his body slightly to the other side, he cleared my way to leave that seat and said huskily, "It is not my thing to punish pretty little girls like you. And. . .do get a real job next time." I stared at him blankly and got out of my seat. My hands ached to tear off his mask and show all who would recognize him as a celebrity like the passengers in that stoppage did. But my parents raised me to be like that. I knew I was better, and this man had no clue who I was, just like I didn't know him. "Thanks for your concern, but I strongly suggest you get a life, sir!" Before getting off that bus, I thought about giving him a reality check. So, I brought my face close to him and smiled genuinely at him as I said, "The universe doesn't revolve around you." His expression darkened behind those dark glasses and black face masks. Those heavy breaths said that all. Before he got a chance to make any snarky remark, the bus halted before a stoppage, and I jogged down the bus. I felt his eyes when I took a non-ac bus to the post office. Turning around, I waved at him and hoped I would never see him again.