Chapter 1

 Pure rage fills my veins while I'm looking at her emotionless face. My vision is blurred by the tears stinging in my eyes and the lump in my throat is stuck so deep, the lack of oxygen is making me dizzy.

"It's over! I'm tired of this!" I shout at her in anger and my heart sinks into my feet. 'It's over.'

"Why?! Because I want to pursue a career?! Honestly, James, this is such a coward's move."

I'm this close to losing my shit and doing something I might regret, so instead, I turn my back at her and lean on the wall before I can collapse.

"Leyla, I'm tired of this. I'm tired of explaining why. I'm tired of you." A tear rolls down my face. Fuck it! 

"James, don't be so childish. I thought we went past this." I feel her from behind me, placing her hand on my shoulder as if she believes she can calm me down.

"Don't touch me! Just don't! You lost that privilege!" I turn back at her with face cold like a stone. At this point, I hate her more than I love her.

"Privilege?! What privilege?! Who do you think you are?!" She laughs at my face, her tender voice now feeling like a stab in the chest. So much lost time.

"Get out," I say in low voice, but the heartache makes it break. "Get the fuck out of here and never come back! Go pursue your career!"

"Are you really gonna be so misogynistic?! You can't put me in a golden cage! News flash, darling! It's twenty-fucking-first century! You can't expect me to ditch everything for your old-timed understanding of the perfect family!" She shouts back at me and what she says confuses me. 

"Golden cage?! Old-timed understanding?! Are you seriously going to be so ungrateful and selfish, Leyla?! Tell me, when the fuck I stopped you from doing whatever you want?! When?! Tell me, because I can't remember! Or you know what? Maybe that was my mistake! Leaving you to have such freedom! Maybe if I didn't, we wouldn't have been having this conversation! Because maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't have aborted before talking to me!"

My heart is hammering so fast in my chest, my ribs start to hurt. And her audacity is disgusting me. It's not just the betrayal of doing what she did, taking away from me the possibility of being a father, without even discussing it with me. It's the fact that she has zero regrets.

"Babe, I have a body for millions. I'm not ruining it for carrying babies! My body is not created for that."

"Shut up! Shut the hell up and leave! Screw you! Go live your dream and in two years when you're too old for the modelling industry, don't you dare to call me!"

"Oh James, I'll be an icon. I'll never get too old." She grabs her bag and leaves, walking like we just didn't break up. She walked out like she just won, with her nose pointed so high, clicking with her high heels in perfect tact. 

"Fuck you!" I shout after her and break down, drowning in tears and sorrow.

                                 ***

                       One year later. 

"Listen, Regina, all I want is ten minutes with Miss Kingsley." I arch an eyebrow in annoyance. Is it so hard to understand what I want?! The typical casual music playing in the background is making me even more nervous.

"Mr. Reagan, I fear this is not possible. Miss Kingsley doesn't accept being interrupted while having her coffee."

"And I don't accept rejection. Ten minutes. Just call her."

"But... Mr. Reagan, this is not how it happens here. You can speak to the staff manager." The cute girl on reception keeps redirecting me to talk to someone else. Goddammit! 

"For fucks sake! I'm not seeking a job. I have a business offer for your boss."

"You can send an email and after she reviews your offer, she will eventually call you."

"I'm not moving a step back until I speak to her."

"Ugh, you're like a donkey on ice!" She rolls her eyes and shouts to the waitress who's passing by. 

"I'm a what?" I burst into laughter. What a colourful staff Miss Kingsley has.

I check my phone while waiting for an answer. A few emails from partners to preorder whiskey. I briefly read them and send the generated answer.

"Mr. Reagan, please follow me." I lift my head to see a tall man standing in front of me. In a black suit, with carefully put hair and perfectly shaved face. Is she really having a bodyguard? 

I do as he says and I follow him to a little elevator behind the reception. I guess it's used by the staff.

A few floors up and the door opens in front of me, revealing such a wonderful view. The cafe, placed on the rooftop is one of a kind. No wonder Miss Kingsley wants to have her coffee in peace. Direct view of the ocean, the blue mixing with the shades of the sky, the sounds of waves crashing into the shore mixed with low music and of course, the strong scent of coffee. I look around me before my eyes can focus on the woman I'm looking for.

And there she is. Lost in reading something on her phone and taking a sip of the coffee. I step forward to her and the closer I get, the more beautiful she becomes. Lightly tanned skin, looking like tender silk. Beautiful chestnut hair, diligently put in a bun, a deep red top, revealing her appealing curves and her collarbone and black denim pants in a combo with red heels, giving the illusion of her legs being endlessly long. I nervously greet her and a pair of deep blue eyes look at me, followed by her full lips opening and saying something I am not able to understand. I'm astonished. She's one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen.

"I guess it's Mr. Reagan?" She crosses her arms, but she looks relaxed.

Authority and respect are radiating from her otherwise frail nature. And no wonder, she's on top of a multimillion-dollar business, she must look respectful. I realise I took a longer pause than I should and I open my mouth to say something.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Kingsley." And damn yes, it is. She's a sight for sore eyes.

I see her facial expression changing for a moment and I even catch an almost unnoticeable smile, then she hurries to hide it.

"Is this seat taken?" I ask, pointing to the fluffy grey sofa on my left side.

"Does it look like it is?" She shoots a rhetorical question and I try to not laugh at her pretended sarcasm and instead I only roll my eyes while taking a seat.

"Mr. Reagan, I didn't expect you to be so..."

"Black?" I cock my eyebrows up, interrupting her, as I already know what is she about to say. I've heard it a lot.

"...Young." She finishes her sentence with clear confusion written on her face. "Why would I bother to judge your skin tone or background?"

"Sorry, it's just..." I awkwardly mumble, obviously ashamed of the situation I've gotten myself into. "It's just it's twenty-first century and some people are still shocked to discover a black man can be successful."

"Oookay, whatever," she brushes it off and continues. "On what do I owe this sudden interest in a meeting with me, Mr. Reagan? If you knew any better you would know I'm not the best company for useless small talks." She changes the topic and I'm glad for it.

"I am deeply sorry for any discomfort this might have caused, Miss Kingsley. And please, you can call me James." I apologize for interrupting her but damn, maybe I shouldn't have come this early. God helps the person who lives with her.

"Riiiight. I'll stick to Mr. Reagan. Can you answer my question?"

"I'm here only for business. Have you ever heard of Reagan's whiskey house?"

"Should I have?" She indifferently asks and although it's not a surprise to me, I'm getting a little annoyed at how infamous our whiskey is here.

"I'm actually not surprised. Your ignorance can be excused with its a little... odd politics. Reagan's whiskey house is a big and prosperous bourbon distillery set in Nashville, Tennessee, but while under the leadership of the men before me, the distillery produced bourbon only for export to countries like France and Australia. Now I took after my father, I want to make it famous in the States as well since it's the best whiskey and its place is here. To quickly explain the process of producing: we're using only carefully selected corn from our own fields spread across The States and then leave the drink to age in smoked oak tree barrels, which results in it having a deep and pleasant taste." I take a deep breath after quickly blurting the same explanation for what felt the hundredth time now.

"And I needed to know this because..?"

"Because, Miss Kingsley... Actually, can I call you Abigail?" I try to short the distance between us and be more friendly, but I guess she's not in the mood for making friends.

"No, it's Miss Kingsley for you. I don't allow anyone to call me Abigail. After all, I didn't build this name for nothing." She clicks with tongue and shoots me a challenging look.

"Oookay, whatever. I told you this, Miss Kingsley because I want to work with you. I think we can be in each other's favour."

I watch her placing her index finger on her fluffy lips and making a questionable expression. Bingo! I got her interested.

"If you haven't noticed, judging by the luxurious building you've stepped into, I don't need anyone's help. And why would I want to work with you, Mr Reagan? I work with a wide range of distributors and producers. Tell me, why would I want to work with you?" 

So much for growing interest.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath so I can carefully select my next words. Or more likely, words that can bring back her interest.

"I want to work with you because a classy place with classy guests deserves a classy drink as well. Kingsley resort is famous for its good location, the type of... selected guests and the annual charity ball 'Hope'."

"Mr. Reagan, can you get to the point? Thank you for the quick reminder of my success, but I still cannot see a good reason to start a business with you." 

Ah, damn it. I somehow relied on my charms too. I guess nothing will work, but let's do one last try.

"It's simple, Miss Kingsley. If you allow me to make quick math, you'll see you will get profit from selling the golden line of my bourbon. I offer it as a limited series. The drink is left to age 30 years before selling and whoever tried it was never disappointed. It's pretty famous on the outside markets, but as I said, I need to be present on the States' ground. I'm selling each bottle for 200$. The type of business you have and taking into consideration its location will allow you to sell with at least a 45-50% surplus charge. And that makes 100$ profit per bottle. It's a pretty good deal if you ask me." I try to sound as confident as I can but hell, my hammering heart and sweating palms are making it harder. Her piercing ocean deep eyes are making me shift in the otherwise comfortable sofa. 

What's in her that makes me so nervous? I've talked to hundreds of people before, but no one made me feel like this. Maybe it's because of her appealing appearances? Or the pair of deep oceans staring directly through me? 

"I can make quick maths too, but let me enlighten you on something. You couldn't know if I'll get profit because you can't know if your bourbon will be selling. As a start, I can offer you work on consignment. I'll pay whatever I have sold."

"I was never a fan of this kind of business relationships, Miss Kingsley."

"And I'm not a fan of losses, Mr. Reagan. Consignment is my final offer. Take it or leave."

"I'll say once again that I'm not interested in this type of business relationship."

Work on consignment is one of my biggest mistakes. I did it once and it cost me thousands. I understand where she comes from though, the chance of her being tricked and led into a trap is big. After all, I'm just one stranger.

"And I'm not interested at all in your product. In fact, I don't really need it either. And to be honest, I was willing to agree to this only to help you out. With or without your whiskey, my resort will keep working. And if I remember correctly, you needed presenting on the States' market. Shall I remind you what types of people come here?"

What the fuck is her point? Simple 'no' would've worked! Although I wouldn't accept it, but still. What she doing is basically blackmailing me!

"This borders on extortion, Miss Kingsley."

"Understand it however you like, Mr. Reagan. Now, if that's all, I would like to be alone."

"Actually, I wondered if you would like to share your morning coffee with me?" Bold of me to ask, but I can't give up until I've tried everything.

"I'm sorry, what? Did I give you any sign of wanting that?!" She chokes on the coffee and raises her voice at me.

"Well no, but I thought--"

"Exactly, no."

"Well, I just thought we can talk further into this for a little more."

"Mr. Reagan, if I was drinking coffee with every potential business partner, I wouldn't be able to sleep at night. Plus, going for a quick walk might make you rethink your decisions."

How impolite! Or maybe she's just waiting for her boyfriend and doesn't want him to see her with another man? The last I've read about her was some gossip article about money and real love and how she balances it with some guy named Conard. Who knows. Yet, what she said comes too harsh in my opinion and I choose to give her back a taste of her own audacity.

"Has anyone ever told you how cold you're?!"

"I hear it at least twice a day. Now, I would really appreciate it if I can get my coffee in silence. Apparently, it got colder than me," she shoos me away and takes the coffee cup in hand.

I chuckle, I can't keep my laugh anymore. She makes me both annoyed and wanting to laugh. Ugh, it's confusing!

"It wasn't a joke," she only says, making a sad grimace.

"Alright, Miss Kingsley. See you around." I get up from the sofa and check her from head to toe once again, then impulsively strike a wink in her direction. Realising what I just did, I leave before she can make another sassy comment.

                         ***

I lie on the king-sized bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking what should I do next. I feel both lazy and refreshed after the shower I just took. The walk that Miss Audacity so kindly suggested me to take didn't help at all. Maybe because it was more like a run than a walk and while I jog my mind becomes blank as an empty sheet. 

Or it was the pair of narrowing blue oceans that I see every time I close my eyes? Damn it, she got me interested. And how could she not? Her almost innocent beauty doesn't match her cold behaviour. No, not at all. Or maybe I'm just not used to a woman rejecting me so fast?

Narcissistic or not, I'm far from bad looking and I know how my features can affect a woman. Especially when in a suit. But hell, I've put my best suit for today's meeting and she didn't crack.

I try to stop my mind from fantasizing any further and jump from the bed to get dressed. If I pay 400$ for staying here, lets at least use all services that Kingsley resort provides. I hop into black jeans and put on a semi-casual shirt. I heard Kingsley resort's club is one of the best, let's try it out.

I close the massive door behind me and walk down the hall to the nearest elevator. "Ah, fuck!" I think to myself as I see the doors are closing.

"Hold the elevator!" I shout and run to there, almost bumping into the beautiful blonde inside it. "Thank you. I'm going to the club," I say and take a closer look.

Fuck it, she reminds me so much of Leyla. I swear if it wasn't for the pitch-black eyes, I would've easily mistaken the girl for my ex. The same thick blonde curls falling on both her shoulders, the same fair skin and the same deep red lip gloss on the otherwise a bit thin lips. Hell, she is even as tall as Leyla.

I turn my back at the girl as I realize I'm staring for more than it's appropriate and I look in the big mirror wall of the elevator. Two amber eyes, now becoming darker and darker, full of anger and sadness look back at me from under the thick black brows. I bow my head down.

"What would you say?" I hear a little rough voice behind me.

"Huh?"

"A group of girlfriends is awaiting me in the club. Do you want to join us?"

"Sure, why not," I respond almost immediately, not giving much thought to it. After all, I would look like an outsider all alone in that so famous club.

"Okay, this way," the petite blondie says and leads the way through another hell of a long corridor.

I hear pumping music, the sound getting closer and clearer with every step.

"Your IDs and reservation cards." A man as big as a gorilla stands in front of a huge black door.

"Come on, Roy. We were here yesterday," the girl chirps and passes the two documents to the guard and I do the same.

"Enjoy your stay," the man wishes and opens the door for us.

"What's this about?" I grumble.

"Safety. Always carry your reservation card with you. I saw it's one of the blue ones, you've booked an apartment?"

"I did, so what?" I ask, clearly confused with this.

"Blue reservation cards are for the most expensive apartments and as a guest who booked such one, your stay in the club, using the restaurant, the spa and other services are for free for you."

"I see. Are you working here?"

"No, silly!" The girl giggles. "It's my fourth vacation here."

"I catch a British accent?" I flirt with her.

"I'm from Manchester."

"I never caught your name though?"

"Vanessa."

"James, nice to meet you."

"If you're lucky enough tonight James, you'll catch more than my name." I see her tilting her head back to me to wink and I see her lips moving to say something more but I can't hear her as the wave of pumping music hits me the moment she opens the door. 

A red-haired girl runs towards us and hugs Vanessa and I just take a look at the surroundings. Dim green lights and pink lasers are the only sources of light. The place itself is big and spacious, separated into sectors, furnished with taste in dark colours.

I feel Vanessa catching my hand and pulling me excitedly to the table where her friends are, all seem to be a little surprised to see her with me.

One of the girls pushes a glass in my hand and gives me cheers. I take a sip and a thought passes my mind. I imagine my whiskey being sold here. Of course, Reagan's whiskey house is quite famous and profitable but if I get the chance to extend the selling and get its name to the top inside the States, that will be the peak of the distillery.

I pour myself a second glass, as the first one is already dried. I want to lose my shit tonight.

"Let's dance!" I hear the blondie I just met shouting at me, then she catches my hand pulling me aside and I spill my drink over my shirt.

"Sorry!" She giggles and takes a napkin to try to take up the whiskey.

"I got it, don't worry. Where's the restroom?"

She points with her finger and I focus the door on the other side of the dancefloor.

"Be right back." I hurry to the bathroom as I feel the spilt drink is already making my shirt stick to my body and this is not a pleasant feeling.

I take off my clothing and push it under the hand dryer. It's not like I can't go to my room and change but hell, if I have to walk through this labyrinth of a hotel one more time I'll get lost and pissed off. After several minutes I check my shirt and it's dry so I quickly wear it. "This has to do."

I walk outside while buttoning up and not watching where I step, I bump into someone.

"Hey! Watch where you're walking!" An obviously drunk man faces me and I hear him shout.

Not willing to get into this, I briefly apologize and look around myself for the table with the petite girls I was invited to. Instead, in one of the furthest corners of the club, my eyes stop on a familiar face. As one of the pink lasers lights in that direction, I see her! Abigail Kingsley!

"It's a sign," I think to myself and start walking towards her. But what a sign, for fucks sake? She owns the place, it's not unnatural to see her here. But as the exhaustion and the glass of whiskey I fastly chugged kick in, I feel bolder now.

As I step closer to her I see her holding tight a tumbler with a yellow liquid, her eyes focused on something, or more like someone. I follow the line where her eyes stop and I see a man by the bar, just drinking his drink. 

I'm a few steps away from her now and I can see the clear fury written on her face.

"Good thing looks can't kill," I joke and slide on the couch next to her.

"Jesus Christ, James!" I startle her and she drops the crystal glass on the floor.

"Good to know you know I have a first name," I joke again and chuckle.

"What are you doing here?! And why are you sneaking on me like that?!" She crosses her arms and lifts an eyebrow, then I notice the little vein on her forehead popping up. I guess whatever has happened really pissed her off.

"You looked like you need some company. All alone on this big table," I point to the big and empty glass table in front of her.

"I was perfectly fine, thanks."

"Is that so? You looked like you want to rip that poor boy's head."

"It's none of your business!" 

And true, it's not. I guess I just tried to start a conversation.

"Judging by your face you either have lost money because of him... Or your time with him."

I watch how her facial expression changes. Her clenched jaw changes into more... sad face, her eyes shift from my face to her hands, now just put loose in her lap.

"Hey, I didn't intend to sadden you."

"I'm not sad."

"You know... it's okay to be sad."

So that was the reason for her over the top harsh behaviour. She was hurt. I can recognize that kind of pain in her eyes. 

"That 'poor guy' is my ex," she quotes me, emphasising on the epithet 'poor' I used to describe him. "Long story short, he cheated on me and now he acts as if I did something. The irony."

"Did you... did you love him?" I ask but I already know she did. Hell, maybe she still does, judging by how easily his presence can get her angry.

"Of course, I did... We were together for four years. That's four fucking years! And to thank me he threw everything in the trash. But whatever. Everything is forgotten."

"It seems like you're still hurt..."

"I said whatever!" She cuts and I respect her privacy and don't ask anything else. "You didn't answer my question."

"Hmm, I just decided to stay for a little more. I'm not a man to give up on something so easily. And after the walk I took, that you so kindly suggested I booked a room here and spent my afternoon preparing a speech."

"A- speech?!"

"Yes, a speech," I nod. What a lie. I didn't prepare a shit. Except making the plan for getting totally hammered tonight. "I'm not willing to give up until I have tried everything. I want to work with you, Miss Kingsley."

I see her furrowed brows now arching in curiosity and she mumbles something that only she can understand.

"Actually, can I order a drink?"

"Sure, just move to another table," she indifferently shrugs, trying to make me go away but instead I wave to the waitress passing by. "You're a pain in the ass," she sighs defeated then.

"I prefer the term determined."

"Good evening! How can I help?" The woman in a bright purple dress greets. 

"I want a drink. Whatever you choose," I purr and wink. It wasn't my intention to flirt with the waitress, but it seems like I have this effect on people. I notice she blushes then spins on her heels, right about to leave.

"I would like to get a drink too!" Abigail cuts angrily and I laugh at the fact that her own worker forgot her.

"I'm-I'm sorry miss. What can I get you?"

"John Brandon's green label." Abigail's bossy voice snakes around my ears, then she looks at me with tilted head and provoking eyes.

Ah yes, John Brandon. My biggest obstacle to becoming whiskey producer No1. And she had to order exactly that one.

"Yes, miss."

"Seriously, you had to order that?" I complain, internally facepalming myself, but then I hear Abigail giggle and fuck, what a chirpy laugh it is! 

"That's the best whiskey we can offer at the moment, Mr. Reagan. And I will kindly ask you to not flirt with my staff."

"Why? Does that bother you?" I tease her a little as I notice she has relaxed a bit.

"Not even close. I just have strong politics against any kind of relationships between clients and staff."

"We'll see that," I wink at her and this time it was fully intentional.

"Can we get back to the topic?"

"Sure. I guess," I shrug my shoulders, a little disappointed with the sharp topic change. "I just want to work with you."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"Just why? My resort is not the only one in the States. And although I consider it the best one, it's not the only one. So I must ask why. Why do you insist on working with me?"

"Can I be entirely honest with you?" I scratch my arm, realising I have no idea what I am talking about. My mind went completely blank when I heard Abigail laughs! "I've read about you and your path to the top. Not many people remember where they've started from. I know you've created this whole place on your own. I know you haven't inherited it. I appreciate hard work. And if I get the chance to be a part of this, I'll be infinitely happy." I collect my thoughts and say what I expect to be liked by her. Who doesn't like it when you flatter them?

"I want to see the distillery."

"You do?" I answer surprised. At least. I didn't expect her to want that.

"I do," she shortly nods to my surprise and takes a sip from the glass that the waitress just left. Then she looks me dead in the eyes with the most provocative look I've ever seen and licks the edge of the glass! Hell, either my eyes are lying to me or she just flirted with me! 

I take a deep breath to try and calm myself, this sudden act of hers got me excited at least!

"You can't imagine how happy this makes me," I murmur with head tossed back and eyes glued to the ceiling. 

I am indeed happy, but right now I can't express it properly, after little Miss Provocation's quick flirting.

"And I'm ha--" Abigail doesn't finish the sentence as the man from the bar earlier walks to us and interrupts her!

"Good evening, lovely couple. Mind if I sit?"

''Screw you, dude! I was here first!'' I shout to him in my head and cross my arms. I don't even know him and he already annoys me!

"Um yes, actually. What do you want, Conard?!"

I catch his name and see him making himself comfortable in the chair in front of me while saying something and now studying his face more closely I realize it's the same man I bumped into on my way out of the bathroom! Then another thing rings a bell! It's the same man I read about in that article! So if he's Abigail's ex, this means she's single! Which means she just didn't want me this morning. My thoughts fly to a completely different direction then suddenly stop, as I get startled by quite a weird question.

"Are you her new fucker?" He faces me and what he asks makes my blood boil immediately. "I think we didn't meet officially. I'm Conard. The one who put Abigail into use. You know what I mean," he continues the disgusting presentation of himself and finishes with a nasty wink. 

"I'm James. The one who will break your nose," I hiss through teeth. I try to remain calm but at this point, I'm straight pissed off at his attitude and I'm this close to hitting his head on the table.

"What do you want, Conard?! Why do you feel the need to ruin everything for me?!" I hear Abigail shouts at him and I can't help but wonder what the fuck did she see in him in order to date him.

"Tut, tut, tut, Abi," he shakes his head and clicks with his tongue before facing her. "Now, why would I want such a thing, hmm? Maybe because you kicked me out of our home?"

"You cheated, Conard! You fucking cheated on me! What did you expect me to do, huh?! Forgive you and move on? You disgust me, Conard. You better go crawl back to the whatever shithole you came from."

"Your words are hurting me, Abi," he only mockingly laughs at her face and I can barely hold myself from jumping at him!

"Listen, buddy. I'm taught manners. But this doesn't mean I can't kick your ass," I decide to interfere and stop him from joking with Abigail any further.

"And what a fearsome pitbull has Abi found this time. Calm down, cowboy," he laughs again. "I'll leave you two lovebirds in peace."

"You better do or I'll call the security to kick you out!" Abigail hisses at him.

"Okay, okay. I didn't mean trouble. I just wanted to say hi, but you two are so impolite," he raises his hands in defence and gets up from the chair. Thank Goodness!

"Oof, this was intense..." I sigh in an attempt to start a dialogue after that moron already left.

"I'm so sorry you had to witness this."

"Never be sorry for someone else's behaviour. It's not your fault."

"Thank you... I guess," she only awkwardly says and takes a moment to calm down. "Listen, I need to go, it's getting pretty late. When can we go to see your distillery?"

"We can do it tomorrow?" I suggest with the hope she will agree. I want to take her out from here for a day or two.

"Great! When?" She excitedly claps with hands! God help me, she has the most awesome smile I've ever seen.

"Let's say tomorrow morning, maybe around ten? I'll wait for you at the airport."

"Sounds like a plan! Good night, Mr. Reagan." She cuts it short and leaves me all alone on the table. I guess it's time to go back to the girl with whom I first came.

                          ***

"James! What took you so long!" Vanessa shouts in my ear and pushes a small glass with something red in my hand. I can smell her alcoholic breath and it makes my stomach flips a little.

"What's this?" I ask, but take the glass she just shoved in my hand anyways.

"A shot!" She shouts again and takes one in her hand.

"A shot but what shot?"

"Who cares! Just drink!"

I am a little skeptical at first but once I taste the drink, I order another round of them! They taste like cherries and I love cherries.

I had maybe a dozen of the shots. And after the first two or three I felt a wave of energy kicking in. I danced like I've never did but now I feel like I should call it a night. I face Vanessa to tell her I'm tired and leaving, but everything suddenly goes blurry. I feel my legs go numb and I stagger but the blondie catches me, bending back under the weight of my body.

"Maybe it really is time for you to leave," she says and shouts something to her friends then helps me outside the club. I make a few steps and then everything goes black.