𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞; oscar piastri

PART FOUR

Word count; 3,862

Tomás

With strict instructions to watch me step foot inside the hotel, my driver was reluctant to stop off at the off-license from the night before. Except, I reasoned that it was better now - when he could drop me the hundred-and-fifty metres down the street and follow what Curro had ordered of him - than later, in the dead of the night, resulting in the same outcome as before. Cautiously, he parked up by the shop, and I thudded his shoulder, stepping out onto the street with a stretch.

The cashier - Bilal, I remembered - greeted me with a smile, apologising profusely for broadcasting my visit to the store.

"Good for business?" I asked simply with a smirk.

"Very." He turned, pointing to the back wall where he had framed a picture of me with his daughters.

I beamed, rotating to the aisle of liquors and wines. Picking one at random, I returned to the front desk, where Bilal already had a packet of tobacco on the counter.

"You're going to kill me." I chuckled, pushing the tobacco away with my index finger.

"For the future." He grinned, nudging it back. "I will only charge this."

I prompted my brows, "You drive a hard bargain."

Tossing a few notes onto the counter, I stuffed the tobacco into my pocket and grabbed the liquor, not bothering to wait for change.

Shutting my hotel room door behind me, I cracked open the bottle of brandy, downing a few swigs, wincing at the bitter flavour. It was far from my favourite, but I pushed the taste aside, taking another sip, and another, until my stomach felt as if it might bubble up and explode in my mouth. By then, the horizon had turned black, the sky too plagued by light pollution to reveal any stars. I took a seat on the carpet between my bed and the nightstand, snatching the phone from the surface, fingers hovering over the dial pad. 

It was just after New Years when I last called, and even then I was just as distracted, mellowed by champagne and tequila, unable to ring under other circumstances. I had gone so long without hearing from them - when I first moved to Spain, all those years ago - that now getting back into the habit was like throwing a ball for a dog, despite the fact they were chained to a metal fence.

With a hard swallow, I imput the number.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Click.

"Hola?"

I choked on my words, like a hand had wrapped around my throat, squeezing the air out of me.

"Hola? ¿Quien es?" - Hello? Who is it?

I rubbed my brow with my thumb and index finger, "Ester?"

"Más!" She rejoiced.

I smiled, examining my lap, listening as she beckoned Catalina from across the room.

"It's so late, isn't it? What time is it there?" Ester chimed, her Spanish a blur of words as they reached my ears.

"Near midnight," I answered, head inclining to lean on the mattress behind me. "Busy day."

"Más? Is that you?" Catalina imputted, changing the subject.

"Yes, it's me." I said in a croak, allowing my eyes to flicker shut. "How are you?"