Chapter 3

For the middle of the night I felt that this dinner was the most boring thing that could be. 

He was in the auction part, where they were fighting to see which one of them could win a trip to Scotland, which surely they could easily afford, but it wasn't fun if they didn't have to bid on it, was it? It wasn't entertaining unless it was snatched from someone else's hands. 

In my search away from those pretentious piece of shit, I heard a curse in the ladies' room. The door was half open, I could just walk in, but I wasn't going to risk seeing something I couldn't erase from my memory so I waited patiently until I found out it was the woman who came with Jones. 

At that point I had serious trouble remembering her name, but I wasn't sure why Chelsea's name popped into my head after a few seconds. A black-haired girl accidentally crossed my mind. However, I let it slide when Jones's escort gave me a suspicious look. 

I looked at her, looking for the reason for her curse, however, everything was in place. She didn't have a single hair outside of her bun, although when I stopped at her face I noticed that her countenance did not show anything other than despair. I didn't see any traces of tears, but I didn't rule out the possibility that she was crying. 

I immediately thought of Dona. A sister who was a crybaby most of the time and who made me empathize with women with tears. 

She froze looking like a cornered animal. The girl was waiting to be devoured like any other guy from that dinner would. She wasn't an idiot, she wore the word prostitute on her forehead. She, though, seemed to be one of those classy ones: well-groomed hair, manicured nails, expensive perfume, designer clothes. In social circles, everyone knows the wife of the members, and if you are not the mistress or the wife, you are the escort of her. Maybe if she hadn't come hand in hand with Jones she would have thought differently of her. 

-All good? I inquired. My mother tried to raise a gentleman. She screwed up a few times, but most of the time she tried to be a decent person. I liked to think that one day she would come out of a bathroom and someone with good intentions would ask her the same question. 

For a moment I thought he was going to tell me to go to hell, but he just muttered, "Jones." No, she didn't hide the displeasure in her voice, although if we're honest, it was something she brought on herself. She wanted to say it, but she wouldn't help; most likely the girl had found out who Patrick Jones was. 

I just nodded at his answer. 

"Can I do something for you?" 

Again, I thought about my sister and how I would like her to be treated. Yes, the woman in front of me may have been a whore, but she was a woman in the end. Her profession did not take away her right to be treated with respect. 

He frowned, perhaps my kindness taking him by surprise. 

I forgot my phone. Can you call me a taxi please? Her voice was soft, like a scared girl in the middle of a bunch of lizards. 

-Of course. He wasn't going to argue if she wanted to leave. She was an adult, and she would know how to face the consequences with Jones. 

"Here you are, Claire!"

The woman cringed at the voice. I felt sorry for her. The truth was that this man took anyone's good humor away.

»Get your ass here. We missed the trip to Scotland,” she grumbled, letting out the true pig that she was. Jones was always a fake smile in front of others, but alone, it was just that, a piece of shit. 

He took the girl by the arm and she turned to see me as they walked away pleading for help with their eyes. All I could do was deny. She chose that life. She agreed to be with that guy. There was a part of me that reminded me that she made her choice, yet no one deserved the Jones crap in her life.

The times she told me, I still didn't believe it, because, once again, I kept hoping that her love for that boy was temporary. Ours was solid, but Dona told me the news she had about Allyson at a restaurant. Apparently, she went to Las Vegas and got married in a quick wedding with some guy. My Allie, married to an FBI agent? What was special about that man?

"Well, he's very handsome," Dona replied as if that explained everything. I frowned at her, and she added, “Besides that, he speaks three languages. Three university degrees. I think he has a couple of decorations… And he was very close to leaving her job for her. He went to London looking for her, can you imagine? That someone loves you so much to leave her job dreamed of her, for you? Her excited tone of hers didn't make me feel good. Yes, I wanted the best for Allie, but I always thought that after so many years I would be the best for her.

"Are you really happy, Dona?" I asked, unable to believe it. All those nights we spent together, the promises, the looks, were about to become memories of things we would never have from each other.

Dona, oblivious to my thoughts, nodded, giving me a pitying look. “It is, Brad. Allie is happy. They both waited eleven years to finally be together. I think that's true love. It's time to let her go, Brad. Let her go. The corner of her lip wrinkled in disgust, adding, "That's why Gerard still holds a grudge against you; he knows you're not over his sister. He sees you as the man who hurt him. Gerard idolizes that Ashton guy. He does not stop talking about the marvelous husband that his sister got. And I think he knows I'm telling you everything, because he gives me more details than I ask for,” she murmured listlessly.

"How can I forget her, Dona?" I growled, feeling cornered by a feeling that wasn't reciprocated. Did you see how beautiful she is? How the years don't seem to fall on her? His white coat of hers? She ruined me! -I complained. He was being very sincere. He had the feeling that no one could measure up to Allyson. They all looked little compared to her. She was smart; strong; ambitious; but very tender in the background. Where would he find a woman like Allie?

Sigh. Her countenance showed that she was feeling sadness for seeing me like this. "I'm sorry, little brother. Allie isn't the right one,” she whispered, squeezing my hand across the table in support. We were each in silence for a while. Feeling that seeing her was everything I didn't dream of.

I wasn't sure when I hit rock bottom like that. My life was about travel, outfits for social events, work I didn't even enjoy, smiling at fake people.

I was at a new event. This time to reward the best businessmen in the country, in Texas; a place far from home… and not at all lively. You were aware that it was a huge opportunity for the firm if we won the category of best legal representatives of the year, but honestly, I didn't care. I would have liked to be at home, sharing with my son.

—Do you know how many people a year die from that? asked a woman next to me. I turned to look at her, acknowledging that she was the girl who attended a charity dinner with Jones. I didn't remember how long it had been since then, because my life was about endless parades of social events.

"We must die of something," I muttered not wanting to be rude, but no one asked his opinion anyway.

"Yes, it seems so," he whispered, dropping into the vacated chair.

I finished that cigarette, however I still had an anxiety vibe so I went for another. It had been a week since Dona told me that Allie had been secretly married in Vegas. Not enough with a lightning wedding, she confessed to me that Gerardo made the comment that she returned to London to continue her career. That haunted me for days. She had tried everything to let her go. But she got so into me that I felt like a miracle would have to happen for her to stop thinking about Allie.

-Bad day? I listened to the woman with a hint of curiosity in her tone of voice.

I had forgotten it was there. For a moment she wanted to answer that it was none of her business, but she had to admit that it wasn't her fault that during that week I was being a bastard with others.

"Bad week," I agreed, giving the cigar a light tap to remove the ash. I took a deep drag and added: Bad life.

He was exaggerating a bit, he knew. However, I was overwhelmed by that discomfort that my world did not make sense. There were reasons why I should be grateful, like my son was alive, right? But besides that, what else did he have? A job I didn't ask for, responsibilities that didn't interest me, events I hated going to, bad decisions in love. What was good in my life? He was a person who reached the top, but he felt that that same height took his breath away.