CHAPTER 5

**

By Friday, I attended my interview and was offered an office space at Rodham PR.

I should be happy. Having my own office space to put my shit in and being somewhere 'official' is something to hoot and holler about. But lately, my spirits haven't been easily lifted.

I watched the interview Sebastian did last week this afternoon. And after that broadcast, the media was ballistic about Garrett apparently giving the journal away. Garrett's representatives have been quiet, and that's what scares me. But to think, if I hadn't quit, I most likely would have been putting out a statement on Garrett's behalf. Funny how life works.

Paul and Beth came over an hour after the airing of the interview. They claimed that it was just a surprise visit, but I know that they're worried about me because of Sebastian and I's fallout, and they also know that I'm stressed out of my mind.

"So how did the interview go?" Beth asks, sitting on the couch with a bowl of chips in her hand.

I give her a warning look; she knows how I feel about eating messy foods on my couch. "It went fine. I got the position."

Paul and Beth are ecstatic, but quickly wonder why I'm not feeling the same way.

"Bitch, that's great!" Paul exclaims. "Why aren't you happy?"

"I am."

"No, you're not."

The playfulness in Paul's blue eyes is enough to make me end my façade.

"I'm just...I have a lot on my plate and I don't have the time to just be happy about everything, you know?"

They're worried. And whenever they're worried about me, I know some stupid idea is going to come into their heads. And like clockwork, Beth shoots up from the couch with the widest smile on her face.

"Let's go out tonight!" she shouts excitedly. "A celebratory evening out for you getting the position."

Okay, I admit, that isn't a dumb idea. Dinner out sounds nice, after all. Or a movie. God, when's the last time I've gone to a movie?

"That sounds nice," I reply. "Dinner and a movie?"

Beth laughs, "No, no! Like out-out."

I frown. "Like...clubbing?"

"Yes!" Paul screams at the top of his lungs before dancing against my dining room table. My first thought is a big fat 'no.' Why? Because everyone who knows me even slightly knows that I'm the last person who would want to go out clubbing. Even the mere thought gives me heartburn.

"Beth, do you know the last time I've been clubbing?"

"The stone age?" she says jokingly.

"Exactly. So that's proof enough that I'm not the clubbing type."

"Oh, come on! You've been working your ass off and it's obvious you need something to take the stress off. Plus, you got a position at a firm. That's something to celebrate."

"And I can celebrate here with 'Say Yes to the Dress' reruns, popcorn, and Pedro's company."

Pedro doesn't even look up from his spot on the couch.

Paul scoffs and stands by my side, barely able to contain himself. "Look, look. I have a friend named Patty who is really close to the bouncer at club Pandora. She can get us in easy with front-of-the-line-access."

"Paul, that isn't necessary—"

"She just replied," he smiles cheekily and jumps around. "She says she's in!"

When the hell did he text her?

Their screams of excitement are overpowering my opposition. Secretly, the idea of going out to the club is an entertaining thought. And plus, I could do for going anywhere besides my house. But dancing, drinking, loud music and tight outfits? Not my cup of tea.

"Come on, come on, please Leslie?" Beth begs, giving me the puppy-dog look that works too often.

It takes me a while to give in.

"Fine. But we're taking an uber there, I'm not drinking more than three drinks, and we only stay for an hour!"

"Uber, three drinks, an hour. Got it," Paul says, holding onto every word as if he will abide.

**

I'm sure you remember Paul abiding by my every word when I agreed to go out. I can tell you that the only part Paul and Beth abided to was taking an uber. As for the rest, we didn't follow it at all. In fact, it attributed to the reason why it ended up being one of the craziest nights I've ever been through. And believe me, I've had nights to remember.

Beth and Paul left to get their things, and came back to get ready at my place. Paul asked if Patty could get ready at my apartment, too, and at this point I said yes to keep him happy. Patty, a petite girl like myself with dark hair, dark skin and light hazel eyes, reminded me of a female version of Paul. Rest assured, her and I got along just fine.

At club Pandora, ladies are free before eleven, so Paul urged us to get ready as quickly as we could so we could have time to tipsy up before we did the heavy drinking at the club. And of course, Paul brought Vodka and Hennessey to assist with that, so it wasn't hard for Beth to get drunk first. Me? I consider myself a heavy weight, so I was only tipsy when we left. By the end of the night? Fucking hammered. But I'll explain that mess at the very end.

Paul and Beth insisted on picking out my outfit and doing my makeup. Since I don't have clothes friendly for a night out, they opted for a tight pair of black jeans and a blouse that I haven't worn since I was twenty-one. Beth also forced me to wear a pair of stilettos she brought because all of my heels were "Mommy shoes."

Patty and Beth, I say, looked ridiculously hot. I would say I looked good. Beth forced me to wear my hair down even though I argued against it, and Patty gave me a smokey eye makeup look that paired well with my outfit. Right before we left, Paul undid the buttons on my blouse, exposing an insane amount of cleavage.

"What are you doing?!" I shouted at him, doing up the buttons again as he laughed.

"You have the best rack out of everyone here. I don't know why you're hiding them."

That, I don't think is true. Beth's boobs looked great in her cocktail dress, and Patty has a similar body to mine—fuller figured with huge boobs. But I guess since this night was for me, I had to be the one showing the most.

So after Beth embarrassingly stumbled out of the uber when we arrived to the club, we all got out and made a run for the line when she screamed at us to do so.

"It's 10:54 and girls get in for free before 11!" she shouted, jogging to the front entrance with Patty at her side. Forget the fact that her cocktail dress slipped up enough to show her black thong (courtesy of the fall she took out of the car), but it was pretty obvious that she drank more than she should have back at my apartment.

Club Pandora was a more prestigious club when I first saw the entrance. It also seemed to be popular, since the line outside was extremely long. But Patty guided us to the front amidst angry potential club goers and stood in front of a tall, muscular bouncer, his eyes concealed by sunglasses even though the sun was clearly gone.

"Rojelio?" Patty said, batting her eyelashes. "How are you, amigo?"

"Amigo?" he replied with a dissatisfied look. "Now, that hurts."

Her charm faded a bit. "We already talked about this—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

He unhooked the rope. Groans from everyone in line went off behind us, but we were too tipsy to care. But before we stepped through the front entrance, Rojelio stopped us.

"Woah, whoa." He nodded in Paul's direction. "He's gotta pay."

"C'mon, are you serious?" Patty whined.

"Ladies free before eleven, Patty."

Patty then started cussing him out in Spanish. The only part I got was her saying that he was only doing that because she said no to drinks the one time he asked, in which Rojelio replied in Spanish as well, denying that claim. 

"Patty it's fine. I'll pay it," Paul said, too blitzed to care about the price, but Beth was obviously unhappy that Paul was the odd one out.

"This...this is totally unfair!" she slurred. I wanted to laugh because she sounded like a mom yelling at a store manager.

"Beth, please—"

Her hand covered Paul's mouth, while the index finger of her other hand wagged in Rojelio's face. "No, Paul. Y-you know just...just fuck gender roles, man!"

I don't know why we thought it would be a good idea to bring Beth in knowing that she's a lightweight, because that was embarrassing.

"Look, we can stand out here and argue about him paying until I have to charge all of you to get in."

That shut us up quick. All of us stayed quiet until Beth suddenly grabbed my shirt and yanked the front buttons free. I gasped, but apparently, I drank so much at my apartment that my mind thought I was dreaming.

"Now will you let us in?" Patty asked. Rojelio looked down at me with pouted lips before waving his hand as clear for us to enter. The line started yelling about the prejudice, but we didn't care. What I cared about more was the fact that Beth didn't apologize for unbuttoning my shirt.

When we walked into the club, I could barely hear myself think. The music was so loud it was pounding in my ears, the lights were so bright I could barely see, and the smell of alcohol, perfume and sweat was potent enough to stun my senses.

I knew better than to complain at that point. I was already there, and there was essentially no turning back. So from there, Patty ushered us to the crowded bar and began ordering drinks. She ordered us all shots of tequila to start us off, and for Beth, that was a horrible mistake.

"One more!" she kept screaming; all the guys at the bar were fighting for her attention, and Paul's job was tiresome, fighting them off.

I admit, I started to feel the tequila's affects after the fourth shot. But it did little to lift my mood like I thought it would. All I did was stare at the dancefloor full of people, the DJ, the bright strobe lights, and wish I was anywhere but there.

"What's wrong?" Paul shouted to me.

I shook my head. "Nothing."

"Are you fucking serious?" Paul replied. "We're out here trying to have a good time and...and you're just...you're just..."

"Do you want another shot!?" Beth yelled, sliding her empty shot glass towards me.

"How 'bout something softer?" Patty proposed as she tried to flag the bartender down.

"I think I'm just gonna head home," I said, grabbing my clutch from the counter, "before the uber wait times start getting crazy."

They all met my response, of course, negatively. Especially Beth, who almost started crying.

"Leslie, for real? We just got here!" Paul yelled. And before I could make up some excuse about work, Beth managed to flag down the bartender and ordered something stronger— Bacardi Rum 151 mixed with Cuervo Gold, Jägermeister, and Rumple Minze. Or by its accumulative alcoholic name: "Passed Out Naked on the Bathroom Floor."

"Leslie, you're sitting here sulking when you have...I mean you've got so much to be happy 'bout!" Beth said to me, holding onto Paul's shoulder for balance. "Sebastian doesn't deserve your happy mood. You got the fucking position!"

I was a little embarrassed that "he" was the reason I wasn't enjoying myself. The whole purpose of going out was to make me feel better, but instead it only worsened my mood. But after listening to Beth's words, I came to my senses a little better. Plus, the previous tequila shots I took made the senses come together easier.

"Yeah." I said to her. "Yeah, you're right!"

"I know I'm...I'm fucking right, I'm just so...you, you know what?"

She lifted up her shot glass, and we all followed suit.

"Fuck Sebastian," she announced into the air. "Yeah, he may be really hot and sexy but just fuck him. You're young, and gorgeous and intelligent and you're my bestest friend and I love you. And you shouldn't be all sad like that."

"You're right, Beth."

"Repeat after me: Fuck Sebastian!"

And to my surprise, repeating those words made me feel better. We took the shot at the same time and almost coughed up our lungs.

"Damn, that's strong!" Patty wheezed.

"Another!" Beth screamed. The bartender shook his head at Paul; she was done for the night.

The shot kicked in five minutes later, and from there on out it was safe to say that I was drunk. After laughing with Patty and Paul for a few minutes while Beth was laughing with us for no reason, we all had a spasm attack when "Single Ladies" by Beyoncé came on throughout the club.

Go figure.

"Beyoncé!" Beth cried, jumping out of Paul's hold and running to the dance floor. We found her dancing by herself near the center, and once we joined her, we didn't leave the dance floor until three Beyoncé songs had played. I'm already a horrible dancer while I'm sober, but while I'm drunk? Embarrassing.

At least I was too drunk to care how I looked, and so was everyone else.

I danced until I was sweating and barely able to stand. Beth, Patty and I went back to the bar while Paul stayed behind since he began dancing with another guy two songs before and forgot we even existed. I had to watch Beth to make sure she didn't pass out, and it was hard to keep an eye on her since she kept screaming for tequila shots.

Eventually, I noticed Patty's attention elsewhere. Her eyes were focused on the second floor of the club, where the VIP areas where at.

"Hey, guys," she said, smiling widely. "Look at Papi Chulo up there."

Now this is where everything started to take an entirely different turn. Had I known this before, I would have been prepared. But sadly, I was not.

I had to focus my eyes a bit to make out the man sitting on a lounge couch with a group of other men (and a few other women), but once I realized who it was, my heart felt like it was going to fall out of my ass.

"Oh...my...God," Beth said; that was the quietest thing she said the entire night. "Who is that?"

I should have had an idea that I'd probably see Alejandro there, especially in the VIP section. Though we hadn't exchanged words yet, I knew I would see him again.

"I know him," I blurted out.

"You do!?" Patty and Beth exclaimed in unison.

"Well I...I don't know him, but I've seen him before. His name is Alejandro Quintanilla. His family is in real estate in Colombia, and they've been doing business with Harrison Inc."

"God, I had a feeling he was Colombian," Patty said, proud of her guess.

"How?"

"His swagger just screams Colombian," she took a good look at Alejandro again while he was talking to a friend. "Confident. Cocky. A bit Machista."

"Are you Colombian?"

Patty shook her head. "No. Puerto Rican. But I know a Colombian when I see one."

Alejandro was deep in a conversation with one of his comrades, completely ignoring two girls who were vying for his attention.

"God, he is so sexy," Beth groaned as if it hurt to gaze at him. At this point, her hair was a mess, and her left heel was on the bar counter.

At least her makeup still looked incredible.

I looked down at the counter, because I knew that if I looked at him again, I would stare. Alejandro is the type of man you can't help but stare at; his energy is...different. But in a good way? I feel guilty for saying yes.

"Holy shit, holy shit, he's looking down here," Patty said frantically. I didn't believe her, but at the same time I didn't have the courage to see for myself.

"He is?" Beth drawled out. She proceeded to lay her upper body on the bar, looking up at the second floor with her tongue licking her upper lip. This is the moment that I wanted to die; "mortified" is an understatement

"Beth, stop!" I pulled her off the counter as Patty laughed so hard she started crying. But not only was Patty laughing, Alejandro was laughing, too. I blushed so hard the room shot up one hundred degrees.

"Oh my God, he thinks I'm funny."

"He's laughing at you, not with you," I explained to her. I don't know how I kept my composure while I was drunk, and I also don't know how I kept my composure when one of Alejandro's friends came downstairs to invite the three of us to his VIP section. Beth insisted that it was because of her humor. And honestly, I think she may be right.

Patty quickly grabbed her clutch. "Let's go!"

"Are you serious?" I asked her. "I'm not going up there."

"Why?" Beth and Patty asked, again, in unison.

"That's...it's not right. That's Sebastian's business partner's family member...thing." I don't know how I formed a sentence at all that night. "Anyway, it's unprofessional. It's bad enough he saw me."

"Oh, come on! VIP? Free bottles? You're crazy if you're missing out because of Sebastian."

Again, Beth had a point. But I didn't know Alejandro at all. And was I supposed to sit up there with three to four other women I didn't know? It was obvious that Alejandro had his intentions with them fulfilled, so sitting up there made no sense.

Still, I reluctantly took my clutch and followed Beth, Patty, and Alejandro's friend up the staircase admist the loud music and dark atmosphere. Patty and I had to make sure Beth didn't fall down the stairs by walking behind her. Honestly, I don't know how she survived.

The second floor was, of course, much more refined and 'upper class' than the crowded first floor. We walked past other VIP areas, and I'll be honest when I say that I was a bit nervous. The alcohol in my system was only working stronger as the minutes passed by, and I didn't want to do something stupid.

We arrived at the VIP area, and the moment we came to everyone's attention, the men all whispered about us with seductive looks.

"They like us," Patty said. I thanked her for the 'translation.'

Beth could not stop giggling, and it was obvious the other girls there didn't like it; most of the men were staring at her, while others were staring at Patty. I got wandering eyes, too, but they quickly stopped looking at me when Alejandro got up.

That was the first red flag for me while in the VIP area; Alejandro made it known that I would be 'his' conquest, not anyone else's.

He held his hand out towards the couch, silently gesturing for me to take a seat. Alejandro then gave one look, just one look, and everyone immediately got up and sat on the other couches, giving Alejandro and I the entire couch to ourselves. The attention on me was nerve racking, making me look everywhere but at the eyes on me.

Alejandro sat next to me (awfully close, if I may mention) and laughed when I rolled my eyes at the amount of distance he decided to put between us.

"Sorry." He said to me, giving me more space. That is the first word he ever said to me; I forgot how distinct his voice and accent was until I heard him talk again. His conversation with Sebastian at the Board meeting was where I heard his voice first—smooth, deep, accented Spanish.

"Thanks for sending your friend to invite us up here," I said. I didn't even look at him when I said it.

Alejandro nodded, not catching wind of my sarcasm until a moment later. "You maybe would have preferred that I go down there myself?"

I didn't know to answer his question to get my point across like I wanted to, so I just stayed quiet. My silence was amusing to Alejandro, obviously.

"Can I at least pour you a drink?" He proposed.

I said yes, in which he asked which I would like. I drank too much hard liquor prior, so I opted for a cocktail. Once the drink was in my hand, I thanked him out of courtesy.

"I knew I had seen you somewhere else when I saw you with your friends downstairs," he said to me once he sat back down.

"Maybe I have a familiar face?"

I was casually flirting and I didn't even realize it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him smiling as I sipped my cocktail carefully.

"No, you don't. Your face is very...how do you say...'unique.' Special."

"Thank you."

Gradually, he was close to me again. I could smell the subtle ginger and lavender infused scent of his cologne. But I could also smell alcohol on his breath; I wasn't the only one who drank too much that night.

"What's your name?" he asked me.

"I'm sure you already know my name."

He chuckled at my secrecy, "I don't, actually. I almost asked when I first saw you, but I waited so you could tell me yourself."

I contemplated telling him my name, but decided against it. So when I didn't answer him, he laughed harder than he did before when I rolled my eyes.

"What's so funny?"

That moment, I decided to lock eyes with him, and my heart began beating faster than when Patty pointed out his presence. His thumb glided over his bottom lip as he stared at me, the remnants of his laughter still apparent in his smile. I tried not to look at the tattoos on his hands like I did when I first "met" him, but it was hard avoiding the ravaging wolf on his left hand and a cursive testament written in Spanish on his right hand.

"It's funny because you're like a little mouse," he replied.

"How?"

"Because you're so quiet. You don't say a word. Are you always so shy?"

"Nope. I'm just...I'm not comfortable."

The smile left his face immediately, replaced with what I assumed to be genuine concern. "No?"

"Because you work with my client, and this just seems unprofessional."

"What client—"

He knew who I was talking about, and a spurt of irritation overcame him when he figured out that Sebastian was the client I meant.

"Oh. That client."

"I just don't want any issues to...to surface."

I tried to hide the fact that I was drunk, but failed horribly; he saw right through me.

"How much did you have to drink?" he then asked me, changing the subject.

"Why does it matter?" I answered, because in reality I didn't remember.

"I was just asking." His hands were held up at his sides in playful defense. "I didn't mean to offend you."

This is the part where I started to feel bad. Alejandro was just trying to conjure up conversation with me because he has seen me before, and I was being a bit rude. So after thinking over my recent replies, I sighed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

"No, don't apologize."

Like an idiot, I began to ramble on drunkenly about how stressful work has been which has led to me going out with my friends to take the stress off. And a part of me thought that he would be listening to me. But the other part? The other part expected him to be staring at my chest the entire time I spoke. And that's exactly what he was doing. Only when I shut up is when he shifted his gaze up away from my breasts.

"My eyes are up here," I told him.

"I know." He chuckled a bit. "Perdoname. It's just...you're very beautiful. I can't stop trying to take you all in, you know?"

Alejandro told me this as his eyes slowly retreated to my chest, but he caught himself and held eye contact again. I felt chilled under his watch in the hot room. Regardless of how handsome he was, I couldn't help but want to get away from him.

Or slap him.

"Do you dress like this all the time or just on special days?" he asked me.

"What do you mean?"

"You know it's just...the last time I saw you, you were very...very..."

His hands moved about around his body, meaning that I was very "covered up" and "conservative."

"Well I was working," I answered slowly, showing him that he was making me angry.

"I know. But maybe you should think to dress something like how you're dressed now."

His hand slowly but surely landed onto my thigh, rubbing back and forth as if I wouldn't notice.

"Why, because my tits are about to pop out of my shirt and my ass can barely breathe in these jeans?"

Alejandro wore a deep look of disbelief at me. The sudden quiet around the VIP area was indication that everyone had heard me. And the scared looks on everyone's faces (everyone besides Beth and Patty) was also indication that I had absolutely no idea who I just pissed off.

"Shit. I thought American girls were supposed to be easier," he said a little too loudly under his breath.

"Excuse me?"

And then I realized what it was that he wanted. I couldn't help but laugh. Usually I'm much smarter.

"So this is what this is?" I say aloud for everyone to hear.

"C'mon, I-I just." Alejandro rubs his eyes, then leans in to whisper: "Look. I'm drunk, you're drunk. Maybe if we just...start over somewhere quiet, we could maybe—"

That's when I threw my drink in his face.

I was a bit upset, because the cocktail was pretty good and I wished to finish it. But the satisfaction of watching the beverage drench Alejandro's hair and deep burgundy button up shirt made up for that. I got up, tried not to lose my balance, and descended the staircase as best as I could. Beth and Patty followed, and so did Paul once he spotted me angrily leaving the club. I felt bad for cutting their fun short, but I needed to get away from that asshole.

The minute I got outside, I ordered a pickup from uber.

"What the hell just happened?" Paul asked. He was drenched in sweat from dancing so much.

"Alfredo is what happened," Beth answered. If I weren't so piss drunk, I would have laughed at her butchering Alejandro's name.

Paul sighed. "Leslie, c'mon let's just go back inside and—"

"You guys can go back inside. I'm going home; I knew this was a horrible idea!"

I was swaying in my heels at this point and yelling loud enough for everyone outside to look at me.

Not even five seconds later, Alejandro came outside with his glam squad following close behind. The atmosphere outside grew cold and tense when everyone saw them exit the club. Admittedly, they weren't the most welcoming-looking group of men—all tall, mean, and covered in black clothing. Alejandro was the only one who had color in his outfit.

"I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to say that."

Alejandro could barely get his words together from him trying not to laugh. Paired with Paul's shocked reaction at Alejandro's presence, I was so over this man being around me and my friends.

"Don't apologize, just leave me alone."

"Come on, I—"

"Look, Nacho Libre!" I yelled at him. "I don't know how you talk to other girls where you're from, but here? To me? Shit doesn't work like that."

Patty and Beth were on the sidelines while Paul tried to calm me down. Frankly, I was making a fool out of myself for a man I didn't even know, which increased my anger.

I just wanted my uber to arrive.

Alejandro kept apologizing, and for one second as I was nearing the curb, I turned around and gave him my undivided attention. He was close to me, but not close enough to be in the range of impact. If I wouldn't have turned around to face Alejandro, I would have seen the car behind me. And not only would I have seen the car behind me, but I would have seen that the driver was obviously drunk, swerving out of control towards me and in no way stopping until it would have hit the light pole in its way, pinning me against it.

I heard Beth screaming my name and telling me to look out, but I was drunk, angry, a little hungry, and delusional, so I thought her voice was in my head. Therefore, by the time I actually decided to turn around, all I saw were the bright headlights of the car. And honestly, I thought I was going to die; I thought I was going to die with so much that I would have left unfinished. And then after that, I remember everything going black. I thought I was dead by then. I still heard everything; the car hitting the pole, the glass shattering, the car alarm going off, people screaming. And then I felt someone's arms around me. I opened my eyes—it was the man I called Nacho Libre moments before. We were both laying on the street, my body close to his, with his hands gripping my arms. I was stunned so deeply my body was as hard as a rock.

"Are you okay?" Alejandro asked me repeatedly with short breaths. I couldn't speak, but I wanted to tell him that I was fine. Physically, at least.

Alejandro helped me to my feet, continuously asking if I was alright. I managed a nod, but my eyes kept staring at the car in disbelief. The front of the car was wrapped around the pole, and the windows were cracked and shattered. If I hadn't moved; if Alejandro didn't grab me...

The driver climbed out and tried to run. I still don't know how he even made it out alive, but he did, yet didn't make it far until the bouncers grabbed him and pinned him down onto the concrete.

"Is she okay?" I heard someone yell. Now, I'm sure it was the club promoter who ran outside when someone told him what happened. But then? All the voices sounded the same to me.

"I...I'm fine, I'm fine." I couldn't stop staring at the car and reminding myself that I was almost crushed. Literally. But Alejandro saved my life. Goddamnit, that douche bag actually saved my life.

The club promoter left to check on the lucky people who jumped out of the way on the sidewalk. I was still so terrified, I couldn't let go of Alejandro. My nails dug into his arm for a moment, but suddenly he was peeling away from me. His "posse" or whoever those men were, ushered Alejandro away from the scene. And in three seconds, I had no idea where he was.

He was gone.

**