Master of Lust

Chapter - 121

The rhythmic thud of Rick's worn boots echoed like a sluggish heartbeat in the narrow stairwell, as if each step carried the weight of a thousand bad decisions.

His already hunched shoulders seemed to develop a second hunch as he approached the summit of this Everest of apartment complexes. Surely, there had to be a universal rule against torturous staircases; he considered drafting a petition as he ascended.

The legality of such architectural sadism baffled Rick. Who in their right mind permitted these towering structures without mandatory elevator installations? His complex did boast an elevator, a grand display of modern convenience that had a knack for playing hide-and-seek, conveniently hiding away when he needed it the most.

'Stupid tall complexes with their stupid, non-functioning elevators and the universe conspiring against me,' Rick thought to himself.

Nevertheless, Rick's spirit was unyielding, much like a rubber chicken in a hurricane. Perseverance was his middle name, or at least it should be. His grueling stair climb transformed into an impromptu workout routine. He patted himself on the back for turning a potential calamity into an opportunity for cardiovascular triumph.

"Cardio? Check, check, check," Rick mentally ticked off, even though this wasn't the kind of cardio he had in mind. His dream workout featured a woman, a bed, and perhaps a dash of lovey-dovey tunes. But, thanks to recent adventures with Evelina, it seemed like, at the bare minimum, the bed was just a suggestion for achieving peak cardiovascular performance.

When it comes to cardio, Rick couldn't help but sneak a peek at the pad across from his own. It had been a solid week—an eternity, really—since he last locked eyes with the gaze that could shoot daggers, especially in his direction.

Thinking about making a bold move, Rick pondered giving a light knock on the door of the sand-washed door.

But then, a sudden revelation hit him like a funky breeze as he raised his arm: he desperately needed a shower. The stench wafting from the lift of his arm smacked him right in the face, serving as a fragrant reminder that cleanliness was a top priority before facing Emily.

Retreating at warp speed into his own crib, Rick carelessly dropped his bag at the entrance and made a beeline for the bathroom. Engaging in a ballet of disrobing, he ditched the day's attire and delved into the mysteries of personal hygiene. Soon enough, steam filled the room, and Rick emerged, reborn and primed for socializing.

Sneaking into the bedroom, Rick's focus was hijacked by a fluffy surprise snuggled inside his jacket. Crouching down with the finesse of a man on a mission, he gently peeled open his jacket, revealing a little fuzzy head peeking out.

"Time to bounce, little buddy," Rick cooed, encouraging the rabbit to hop onto the bed. "I've got a schedule to keep, you know." Unfazed by Rick's urgency, the rabbit hopped onto the bed with an air of nonchalance, as if it had more pressing matters than adhering to its human's timetable.

Once the rabbit had claimed the throne at the bed's center, Rick stripped off the remaining evidence of his day and aimed straight for the shower. Positioning himself under the jet massager, the unrelenting force of water played superhero, untangling all the knots in his back and shoulders.

Standing firm in the water barrage, he schemed up various ways to get under Emily's skin. Imagining ways to make those dark eyes of hers blaze with both fire and brilliance.

After wrapping a towel around his waist, Rick strolled out only to find the rabbit knocked out cold on his bed. Moving through his room with stealthy, easy motions, he gathered the essentials.

Approaching Emily's door with the swagger of a man who had it all figured out, Rick soon found himself standing dumbfounded in front of her apartment for a good ten minutes. No response, no matter how hard he knocked or shouted.

Maybe she took a quick break or something.

Not knowing how to occupy himself, Rick decided he might as well get something for her. But what?

Flowers? The mental image of her unceremoniously tossing a bouquet into the trash halted that idea. It seemed like a floral waste of effort.

Condoms? A sly grin crept across Rick's face at the thought. However, he quickly dismissed it, realizing it might be a tad too forward. There was no need for a scenario where his manhood faced peril simply for attempting a peace offering.

Scented candles? Scented lube? Scented oil? The scented theme, it seemed, was not the solution. Each option was vetoed with a resounding "nope."

Frustrated, Rick decided to take matters into his own hands, or rather, boots. With a final, somewhat half-hearted kick to Evelina's door, he waited in suspense. No response. He sighed, resigned to the fact that perhaps today wasn't the day for reconciliation.

Descending the stairs like a man on a mission, an idea sparked in Rick's mind. Beer. Not just any beer—Evelina's preferred brew. If Emily had qualms about the brand, he could relax, crack open a cold one, and bask in the serenity of a solo six-pack session while she vented about whatever was bothering her. It was a win-win, or at least a compromise with a refreshing twist.

Rick was a step away from leaving the complex when someone called out for him. He had half a mind to ignore whoever that was, but unfortunately for him, the beefy hand on his elbow, pulling him back, couldn't go ignored.

Summoning every ounce of irritation and exasperation, Rick turned to face his interrupter, making sure his discontent was etched across his face like a roadmap of annoyance. The guard, realizing he might have overstepped, removed his hand and shrunk back, hoping to avoid the full force of Rick's displeasure.

Unfortunately for him, that beady stare was like a spotlight, and he had no choice but to step into it.

Rick, impatiently tipping his chin as a silent command for the guard to hurry up with whatever nonsense was about to be uttered, was greeted with a timid explanation. "I just wanted to ask what happened."

Rick, already on the edge of irritation, snapped back, "And I'm supposed to have the answer?"

The guard, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of Rick's annoyance, stammered, "I mean… it's been a few days, so…" He attempted a nonchalant shrug, but it fell flat.

If Rick's patience had been a fragile vase, it shattered into a thousand pieces. "Is there something important you want to discuss, or do you just stop everyone on their way out to ask what happened?" The words dripped with sarcasm.

"You don't know?" The guard opened his mouth to speak, but a buzzing in Rick's pocket caused him to hold up a hand, stopping whatever the guard was about to spill. Another surge of annoyance filled Rick when he heard his phone ring. Rick answered the phone without even seeing who it was

"What do you want?" Rick growled into the receiver.

Whatever response Rick anticipated, it wasn't what came next. The words that reached his ears felt like a sucker punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him. A heavy silence followed his question, and then it hit him—hard.

He swayed, desperately reaching for something to steady himself. The annoyance and irritation that had defined him moments ago evaporated, replaced by a far more sinister sensation.

His knees buckled, unable to bear the weight of the news he had just received. Black spots pirouetted in his vision, threatening to take over. A part of him almost wished it would, wished he could stop fighting for every breath his lungs desperately needed.

Yet, in that suspended moment between despair and surrender, Rick clung to the phone, to reality, and to the harsh truth that had just unraveled his world.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

'She is okay. She is okay,' Rick muttered like a desperate mantra, 'She has to be okay.'

Rick's steps faltered as he approached the lone person sitting on the metal chair in the waiting room. The man didn't seem to acknowledge his presence. He had his eyes closed and his head tipped towards the ceiling. Almost like he was in prayer, and no mortal accident could disturb him.

But that didn't deter Rick.

Rick decided to announce his entrance. He pushed the door open, banging it against the wall. The serene man, was left startled, opened his eyes and slowly turned towards Rick.

The man, the stoic statue with an expression, finally decided to acknowledge his son's presence. Not a single emotion dared to dance across his features. It was like trying to read a rock – challenging and utterly unproductive.

"You are here?" The man told Rick.

"Dad, where is she?" Rick spoke, ignoring the man's question and asked. The man on the phone and in front of him was actually his father.

"She..." Rick's father looked at Rick and then turned his attention towards the glass window to his right, "Emily... She is in the ICU,"

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