Chapter Fifty-Four
Mind y
As I sit here, struggling to collect my racing thoughts, I suddenly feel a presence. I look up to see Maurice looming over me, holding a drink in his hand.
Great.
So much for avoiding him, Mindy.
"Mindy," he slurs, reaching for my hand. Without thinking, I pull away.
"Hey, Maurice, how are you?" I ask with forced politeness.
"Good, good,” he mumbles. “I just had to come and see you," he adds with a sly grin.
My stomach churns. This can't be good. What's even more unsettling is that he's clearly been drinking, despite this being an alcohol-free event. I don’t even know where he got the booze from. The entire hotel has a strict no-alcohol policy tonight and Maron made it clear to everyone that mixing Tramoxine with alcohol could be lethal.
I give him a stern look. "Maurice, you do realize this is supposed to be a sober gathering, right?"
He rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on, Mindy. I'm the one who organized this event after all."
I frown, confused. "So...?"
"So, no one’s going to tell me what I can and can’t do here," he says with a wave of his hand. "I'm one of the hosts, tonight!"
I raise an eyebrow. "What about Maron? He's not going be happy about this, Maurice."
"He won't find out," Maurice insists, "because you’re not gonna tell him, right?" For a moment he looks like he's about to start drunk-bawling, which only makes my discomfort grow. From a distance, Maurice may look like he has it all together, but I know better now. It’s clear that he’s still not in a good place. "I need to talk to you, Mindy."
"About what?" I ask, desperately searching for an alibi to escape this conversation.
Maurice leans in close, slurring his words. "So, you and my brother are fucking after all, huh?" His breath smells like a rundown bar and I internally cringe. "Come on, Mindy, don’t take me for a fool."
Shit.
So, he knows.
I struggle to find the words. How am I supposed to respond to that? Maron and I agreed to sit down with him and come clean, but only after the event. Maron didn’t want him to be distracted while they were working on the launch. So, I keep quiet and Maurice takes my silence as confirmation.
"So, it’s true! What's it like, hooking up with Maron then, huh?" he grins, clearly enjoying making me squirm. "Do you guys fuck every night?"
"I'm not having this conversation, Maurice," I try brushing off his comments.
But he doesn’t back down. He places a hand on my arm, desperation gleaming in his eyes. "Mindy, I need you to listen to me." I really don’t want to listen. All I want to do is stand up, find Maron, and warn him that his brother is drunk and may pose a threat to the entire launch party. But Maurice is blocking my way, pleading for my attention. "Look, I’m really sorry for your loss."
This catches me off guard. "Thank you," I tell him. I assume he is referring to my mother. I just hope he hasn’t heard about my miscarriage.
He pauses before responding, "Alexis told me about your mom."
“Alexis?” I raise an eyebrow in surprise. "Since when do you know my sister?"
"Oh… we text sometimes," he admits. "She's a nice girl."
I can feel my eyebrows shooting even further up. "You and Alexis text sometimes? What do you mean, Maurice?"
He hesitates. "Well, we have some mutual friends…"
"Like mutual drug dealer friends?" I finish his sentence.
He doesn't reply. He just takes a step closer and reaches for me again, in an attempt to pull me close. "Your sister may be nice, but it's you I love, Mindy." I back away, repulsed by the stench of booze on his breath. "I'm sorry for all the dumb shit I did. If you could just forgive me-"
"Stop it, Maurice," I snap, my voice sharp with growing unease. "You're obviously drunk." Suddenly, a sickening realization hits me. "Maurice," I ask hesitantly, "have you and Alexis... hooked up?"
His face turns a deep crimson as he avoids my gaze. “Well,” he mumbles, his words slurred, “we dated a few times.”
Dated?
What the hell?
My heart sinks and a cold fear grips my chest. If these two have been together, it could only mean one thing: all the secrets are out. None of them can be trusted - Alexis or Maurice - both addicts who will do anything to get their next fix. This explains everything. No wonder Alexis knows about Tramoxine. No wonder she’s here. Maurice obviously told her about the event and what was happening behind the scenes.
Oh God, please don't let this be happening.
"She's cool, you know?" he says. "And the two of you... you're so alike. Being with her only makes me think of you more."
I feel bile rising in my throat. Maurice’s presence is suffocating, like a heavy weight pressing down on my chest. I can only hope Maron doesn’t suddenly appear, turning this already chaotic situation into complete mayhem. Scanning the room, I spot a small door, leading to a secluded area. I grab Maurice by the arm and pull him into the cramped room, slamming the door behind us. We’re alone now, hidden from prying eyes and ears.
My voice quivers as I confront Maurice, my fingers clenched into white-knuckled fists. "Maurice," I hiss, my brows drawn in a fierce scowl, "have you told Alexis about the Tramoxine launch?"
"No," he stutters, his voice wavering unconvincingly. It’s obvious that he’s lying.
"So, you did," I state. "Do you realize what you’ve done?"
Maurice falls silent and stares at me with shame and guilt etched on his face.
"Look at me," I demand, my pitch rising with each word. "Tell me the truth. Did you divulge every detail to my sister? The launch, the location, the timing, everything?"
He squirms uncomfortably, unable to meet my burning gaze. "Yeah, I mentioned a few things," he confesses weakly. "So what?"
My heart sinks as I realize the gravity of his irresponsibility. This can't be happening.
“Maurice, can you not think straight?” My voice rises to a crescendo as I stare at him with fiery rage burning in my eyes. “Alexis works for StarDust! She gets paid to expose people’s deepest and darkest secrets! The more scandalous it is, the more money she makes. And now she’s here, interviewing Maron about things she’s not supposed to know about!” My frustration and anger boil over, and I’m fuming. I can’t believe the level of his stupidity.
But Maurice doesn’t seem to get it. He dismissively waves his hand, his eyes glazed over from the booze he’s been drinking. “Don’t be so fucking dramatic, Mindy,” he mutters, his words slurring together.
Dramatic?
I can’t believe this is happening. What am I supposed to do? Shall I find Maron and tell him? How am I supposed to get hold of him when he’s surrounded by an ocean of paparazzi and reporters?
"Mindy, please," Maurice whines, his words coming out as a drunken mess. "I miss you so much. We were a good team together, remember? I know I screwed up, but I've changed. I swear." I open my mouth to try to interject, but I decide to stop myself. My mind is no longer focused on his stupid plea. All I’m thinking about is how to fix the mess he and my sister have created.
"Maron is poison, Mindy," Maurice goes on. "Don’t you see that? He will destroy you. He's a ticking time bomb, involved in dangerous schemes and working with very bad people... you have no idea."
"Maurice, shut your mouth!" My blood boils with rage. "You're wasted and spewing out nonsense."
"It’s not nonsense!" he argues, his voice growing louder. "I hate to say this, Mindy, but my brother is a criminal and a monster. I may look like a loser, but I'm the one trying to do the right thing here."
"Yeah right," I retort sarcastically, "It’s always the good guy who gets drunk and harasses his ex-girlfriend."
"I'm not harassing you," he slurs, trying to grab my hand again. "I'm trying to save you. Can't you see that? Maron is going to ruin your life, Mindy. But I can take care of you. We can start over, just you and me."
I give him a look of disgust. "Come on, Maurice."
"Don’t, ‘come on Maurice’ me!” He scoffs. "Don’t you see that I’m trying to help? You should be grateful you lost his baby. This is your second chance to cut ties with Maron for good. You still have a chance to come back to me."
My mouth drops open as I gape at him. So, he knows about my miscarriage too. Why am I not surprised? Of course, my sister told him. Why wouldn’t she? She didn’t even come to visit me at the hospital, but she still made sure to spill my secrets.
I really want to throw up. Anger boils inside of me, fueled by the hurt coming from someone who is supposed to be family. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Maurice." I stand up abruptly, ready to storm out of here and leave Maurice's toxic presence behind. I should be on my way to find Maron and talk to him instead of listening to Maurice’s bullshit.
"Mindy," Maurice says, his voice cracking. "I swear to God, if I can't have you back, I'll fucking kill myself."
I feel my blood run cold as I stop in my tracks. "That’s not fair, Maurice. You can’t threaten me like that."
He looks at me, his eyes wild and desperate. "You don't believe me? You think I'm bluffing?"
"No, I don't believe you," I say, my voice shaking from distress. "Sober up, get your head straight, and stop emotionally blackmailing me!"
He lets out a harsh, bitter laugh. "Oh, I'm gonna sober up alright. But I'm not doing it without you."
With a shaky hand, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a blister of Tramoxine. My heart seizes in my chest.
"I'll take this right now," he slurs, his eyes glazed and desperate. "The entire fucking thing."
No!
He wouldn’t!
I stare at him in horror. "Are you out of your mind? It's lethal with alcohol, Maurice! You of all people should know that!" I reach for the blister in his hand. "Give me the damn thing!"
He swats my hand away. "No!" he’s shouting now, his fingers fumbling with the lid. "I don't fucking care anymore, Mindy. I can’t go on like this, knowing you're with Maron."
Panic tightens its grip on my chest, stealing my breath away. “Hand it over, Maurice. Now,” I demand, my voice sharp and edged with barely contained angst. “Give me the damn thing.”
Maurice is not backing down. It’s as if he’s finally discovered a way to manipulate me and is savoring every moment of it. Clutching the box to his chest, his entire body trembles with raw, unrestrained tension. “You think you can stop this, Mindy? If I die tonight, it’ll be on your hands!”
I take a hesitant step towards him, my heart pounding so hard I fear it may burst from my chest. "Maurice, please stop playing this game. Give me that Tramoxine."
"Why? Why do you care?” He yells at me, tears streaming down his contorted face. "You never even loved me. Never!" His voice cracks with madness as he tightens his grip on the blister even more.
I lower my voice but my heart continues to race. The pounding sound of it in my ears almost drowns out the muffled noise coming from the Silver Room where guests are enjoying themselves. All my focus is on Maurice right now and getting out of this situation without letting him take that Tramoxine. "That's not true," I say, trying to soften my tone. "I did love you once, Maurice. But things change. People change. Relationships change. And this, what you're doing right now? This isn't love. This is manipulation."
He stares at me for a long moment. His eyes are full of tears and his breath comes out in ragged gasps. "I can't do this shit anymore, Mindy. I can't bear the thought of you being with my brother. It's killing me."
I really don’t know what else to say to him. My mind frantically searches for something that might calm him down and change his mind about his crazy plan. Whatever the case, I need to talk him out of taking those pills. It’s going to kill him, especially if he takes the entire dose. So, I change my strategy.
With a trembling hand, I reach out, asking for the small blister he’s clinging onto. "Okay, Maurice. Let's figure this out together. You don't have to do this alone." His eyes dart back and forth between me and the medicine in his hand. He hesitates, seemingly considering my plea. "Maurice, please don't do this," I urge him. "I'll find help for you."
His eyes continue to dart between me and the pills. But just when I think I managed to win him over, his expression shifts from confused to determined. He shakes his head and a twisted smirk spreads across his face.
"I don't need your help, Mindy. I need you. And if I can't have you, then so be it."
Everything happens so quickly that I barely have time to react. Maurice rips open the blister pack and dumps its contents into his mouth without a second thought. I lunge forward in desperation, begging him to spit out the pills, but he remains unmoved. His wild determination is evident as he swallows every last one and fixes me with a disturbing sense of certainty.
It only takes a few seconds for the effects to take hold. Maurice clutches at his throat, gasping for air as he starts to choke. His eyes bulge with sheer terror, his face contorted in agony as the Tramoxine mixed with alcohol takes its toll.
I watch the unfolding events in horror. Panic rises in my throat as I watch Maurice collapse and convulse on the floor. A scream wells up inside me, but it remains trapped as I am paralyzed by the sheer terror of the scene before me.
"Oh my God, Maurice!" I cry, dropping to my knees beside him. I gather him into my arms, cradling his head against my chest as I try to keep him still. "Please, Maurice, don't do this. Don't you fucking die on me!"
Tears stream down my face, blurring my vision as I look around, desperately searching for someone who can help. There must be at least one security guard around here.
"Help!" I scream as loud as I can. My voice rips through the suffocating silence. "Somebody help us, please!" Nothing. It's just me and Maurice in this nightmare.
I gaze down at him and what I see sends a jolt of sheer terror through my entire being. His skin is pale and clammy now, his breaths shallow and strained. Foam gathers at the corner of his mouth. My heart is breaking into millions of pieces.
"Maurice," I choke out, my voice barely recognizable as my own. "Please, don't die! Just hold on, okay? Stay with me!"
His skin grows paler by the second and until his breathing stops altogether. Panic sets in as I shake him, hoping for any sign of life. But he is heavy and unresponsive. I close my eyes and wish to disappear into thin air. Evaporate. Cease to exist.
“Heeeelp!” I yell again as loud as I can, but it’s met with an eerie silence. Reality crashes down on me: Maurice might actually be dead. Right here, on my lap. The thought is so surreal, so horrifying, that I can't even breathe.
Focus, Mindy!
You need to get help, ASAP!
I need to set Maurice down somewhere, but where? On the floor? I have to move first, but my body feels paralyzed with shock. My hands are heavier than ever, trembling uncontrollably. My heart pounds so hard that I think I’m about to pass out.
My mind is racing, a million thoughts crashing into each other. What the hell are you supposed to do when your ex-boyfriend dies on your lap? Is there a guidebook for this?
"Please, Maurice, don't die," I find myself begging, my voice breaking. "Please, stay with me." The words tumble out, a desperate plea to a universe that seems cruel and indifferent. I'm not even sure if I'm saying this to Maurice or to myself.
Then, to my surprise, I feel it - a tiny movement. Maurice winces and blurts out an, "I love you, Mindy," before his body goes limp again.
Dammit! I can’t just sit here waiting to faint from stress. I need to force myself up and find help. The more time I waste here, the worse this situation is going to get. Maurice needs medical attention, like yesterday. I can pass out from the adrenaline rush afterwards, but first, I need to save his life while I still can. It doesn’t matter that he’s my ex and that we have a history. All that matters is that he’s a human being and no human being deserves to die like this.
“Heeelp!” I shout once again, my desperate scream echoing in the empty room. I try to move Maurice’s limp body from my lap but to no avail. He might be a lot smaller than Maron, but he’s still a heavy guy. Definitely heavy enough for my muscles. “Heeelp!” I try again, but it’s futile. I’m sure nobody can hear me.
Then, I remember something. My phone! I must call Maron.
With trembling fingers, I fumble through my purse for my phone and frantically search for Maron’s number. I press dial and wait for the line to ring, but it goes straight to voicemail. Dammit! He’s either still caught up in interviews, or he’s already upstairs, presenting Tramoxine.
No!
I can’t believe this is happening. What am I supposed to do? Is Maurice going to die in my arms? The realization is like a kick in the gut, leaving me gasping for air. The weight of Maurice’s limp body suddenly feels unbearable, making me feel trapped in a nightmare.
What if he’s already beyond saving?
As the reality of the situation sinks in, I'm left with a kind of dread I’ve never experienced before. What happens now? How am I supposed to explain this to Maron? And even if I do, how will he react when he finds out his brother killed himself because of me?