The Redemption of Memphis Drake: A Second Chance Romance

by Shay Stone

  “You have to delete that!”

  “Oh no. I’m hanging on to this.”

  “Fine. I guess I’ll just have to pickpocket your phone again later.”

  “I’ll tell you what. If you can lift it from me without me knowing, I’ll let you erase the video. If I catch you doing it, you have to let me take you out on a real date. Deal?”

  “Memphis, I already told you. I don’t …”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You don’t date. I heard you the last six times. Now do we have a deal or not?”

  She drags her teeth across her lip, thinking. I huff. “You know I could just email this to myself and send it to everyone in the company. Or maybe I should put it on YouTube.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Wouldn’t I?” I scroll through my phone. “Let me just make an account and post it. I bet it’ll go viral.”

  “Fine! It’s a deal,” she concedes, making another unsuccessful grab for my phone. I tuck it in my jeans as she watches, already plotting how she’s going to steal it.

  “Come on, you guys. We’re going to take pictures,” Jen announces, making her way to the photo booth.

  Nyla grips my hand. “Picture time.”

  “Oh, I don’t really like having my picture taken.”

  She screws up her face. “Why not? Have you seen you?”

  I laugh. She slips her arms around my waist staring up at me with those damn eyes. “Please. For me?”

  You know better. Don’t be stupid.

  “Okay. But that’s one.”

  “One what?”

  I clutch her wrist bringing her hand around and pluck my phone from her fingers. “One date.”

  “Dammit! Wait. One? Whataya mean one?”

  “Every time I catch you, that’s another date.”

  “Wait. That’s not what we agreed. You said …”

  “Yeah, well, my game, my rules.” Her mouth drops, but no words come out. I lift her chin with my hand closing it. “Next time your mouth opens like that, I’m going to stick my tongue in it. Now didn’t you want to take some pictures?”

  Her mouth starts to gape again, but she quickly slams it shut. We join the group and take what feels like a hundred silly photos toasting to Jen while wearing mustaches, oversized glasses, silly hats, and holding funny signs. Nyla has made at least four more grabs for my phone, and I’ve caught her every time. I’m busy writing on a sign when she bounces in front of me.

  “Ha! I got it!” she proclaims, hoisting up my cell like a trophy.

  I flip my sign around and it reads: “That’s 5.”

  Her jaw slackens, and I point at it making her tuck her lips together. A boisterous laugh escapes me. I drag her into my arms. “You know at the rate you’re going you should probably just clear your calendar for the rest of the year.”

  We spend the remainder of the night drinking and dancing and singing. The guys and I do a rendition of ‘Sweet Caroline’ that earns us a standing ovation from the girls and then I do a solo of ‘Can’t You See’ by The Marshall Tucker Band that leaves their jaws dropping.

  “Memphis, that was amazing,” Alex gushes as I climb off the stage.

  “Really man. You’ve got some pipes on you,” Colin agrees.

  “That’s so unfair! I recorded you hoping I could get some blackmail material of my own. I had no idea you could sing like that!” Nyla says, impressed. “Is there anything you can’t do well?”

  Relationships. Trust people. Be honest. Let my guard down. Stay out of trouble and not wind up eyeball-deep in shit.

  I slough it off, slightly embarrassed at all the attention. Yeah, I can sing, but I’ve never done it in public before. I’m not sure why I did it tonight. This whole being myself thing is new and a little unsettling.

  “Did he wake up your lady parts?” Jen teases.

  Nyla’s cheeks heat. She slaps Jen’s arm. “Shut up, birthday girl!”

  I laugh, plunking into a seat and take a swig of my drink. Nyla is standing in front of me with a frown on her face, scrolling through her phone with the girls. I tug her belt loop pulling her onto my lap and tuck her hair behind her ear.

  “What’s the matter, angel?”

  She angles the screen for me to see and flips through some photos. “There’s not one good picture of us. You somehow managed to block your face in every shot.”

  “I told you, I don’t like having my picture taken.”

  Her forehead creases. “I know, but I thought we’d get at least one.”

  The disappointment in her voice chips away at my senses. I set down my glass and take her phone activating her camera. “Come here.”

  A broad smile stretches across her face. She nuzzles into me and I snap a few shots. “Happy?”

  She swipes through them, grinning. “Very.”

  Her fingers grip my chin and her plush lips push into mine. Before we can deepen it, she hiccups into my mouth making us chuckle. She holds her thumb and forefinger a hairsbreadth apart. “I think I’m a little drunk. It might be time to go home. Can you call me a Yuber?”

  I smile, tracing my fingers along her face. “Yes angel. I’ll call you an Uber.” She rests her head against my shoulder, watching as I pull up the app. Once it’s confirmed, I gather her things and we say our goodbyes. I tap Max on the shoulder and hold out my hand.

  “You guys leaving?”

  “Yeah, Nyla’s tired. Thanks for having me tonight. I had a lot of fun.”

  “Hang on. I’ll call my driver. He can take you guys home.”

  “Thanks, but I already called for a ride.”

  A few feet away, I notice Alex whispering something to Colin. They look in my direction and she flashes a tight smile. Colin kisses her forehead and approaches me. “Hey Memphis, let me walk you guys out.”

  We climb down the stairs with the mammoth bodyguard five steps behind. I help Nyla into the car letting the Uber driver know I’ll just be a minute. I face Colin crossing my arms over my chest. “What’s up?”

  He chews the side of his thumb, and I can tell he’s uncomfortable with whatever he is about to say. “Listen man, I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an asshole.”

  I sigh, bracing myself for the ‘you’re-not-good-enough-for-her’ lecture. Usually the father or older brother is the one to deliver it, but I’ve gotten it from friends before, too. A guy like me is fine to fuck or screw around with, but I’m not the type of person they want their friend with for the long haul. Any other time I wouldn’t give a damn, but somehow, I know this one is going to cut a little deeper. My shoulders tighten and my back inches up. “Just say it.”

  “You seem like a nice guy …”

  “But Nyla belongs with the kind of guy who can give her the life she deserves.”

  “What? No.” There’s genuine shock in his voice. “None of us give a damn about that. Hell, I didn’t have a dime to my name when I met Alex.”

  “Really?” I can’t hide my surprise. I just assumed they all came from money.

  “Really. You should see the shithole I grew up in.” He scrubs the back of his neck with his hand. “Anyway, I know you’re both adults, but Nyla is Alex’s cousin …”

  “And if anything happens to her, Goliath over there will make my death look like an accident?” I say, repeating Emily’s threat.

  Colin smirks. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Don’t worry. I promise I just want to make sure she gets home safe. I don’t like the idea of her being out this late alone. Tell Alex she has my word I’ll be a gentleman.”

  Colin exhales, visibly relieved. “Thanks, man. And seriously, you never have to feel insecure around us. All we care about is that you’re good to Nyla.”

  “Well, then you don’t have anything to worry about,” I assure him, gripping his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Yep.”

  “Hey, Colin. Thanks.”

  “No problem. Listen, I know what it’s like … that feeling that you’r
e not good enough for her. But that’s for her to decide. Not you. Your job is to become the man you think she deserves.”

  THIRTEEN

  Get Close, but Not Too Close

  Colin’s words resonate with me, bouncing around my brain like a pinball. Am I even capable of being that kind of man? I brush my lips against Nyla’s temple. She stirs against me, hugging my arm tighter and lets out a content sigh. I lace our hands together and bring them to my mouth pressing a kiss to the back of hers.

  “You’re a bad influence on me. I can’t remember the last time I drank and now I’ve done it twice in one week.”

  “I think this one might be Jen’s fault,” I mumble into her hair.

  “Maybe. But you’re the one putting these other thoughts in my head.”

  “Oh? And what thoughts are those?”

  She snuggles closer letting my question go unanswered. The car slows in front of a turn-of-the-century townhouse on the Upper West side. I tip the driver and guide Nyla up the steps, hanging back as she fumbles to get the key in the door. In the shadows, the orange glow of a cigarette catches my eye. It’s too dark to make out the man’s face, but the light from a passing car reflects off something metal in his hand.

  My heart pounds against my ribs. Maybe it’s just a lighter. This guy might be nothing more than a neighbor out for a late-night smoke. But I’m not taking any chances. Being a con man tends to make you paranoid. You’re always lying or doing something shady, so you think everyone else is too. I take the keys from Nyla and insert the proper one into the lock rushing her inside. With a quick twist of the deadbolt, I peek out the window making sure the man isn’t behind us.

  “Hey, how did Mason’s date go?” she asks, using me for support as she slips off her knee-high boots, oblivious to the possible threat lurking near her stoop.

  “Uh, good. They’re going out again tomorrow. He’s excited.”

  “That’s awesome. I’m happy for him.”

  I notice the light on the keypad to her alarm is blinking. “Did you set the alarm when you left today?”

  “No, I never set it. Why? What are you looking at?” She joins me at the window squinting to see.

  “There was a guy outside when we came in. I was trying to figure out what he was doing.”

  “It was probably Henry. His wife won’t let him smoke in the house.”

  I relax a little. “Well, I’m going to stick around for a few minutes just to be safe.”

  She slides her arms around my waist and cocks her head to the side. “Just a few minutes?”

  “Maybe a little longer.”

  She smiles and drops her jaw, closes it, unable to control her giggles, then drops it again. “Memphis, my mouth is open.”

  “I see that.”

  “Thought you were going to stick your tongue in there if I did it again. Guess you’re all talk,” she slurs, pushing away coyly.

  I seize her by the waist and haul her to me, capturing her mouth with mine. Our tongues dance together like old friends, knowing exactly what the other needs. My hands slide up her sides, skimming her perfect breasts, and I cup her face, resting my palms on her high cheekbones. I’m so lost in her–in this kiss–that I barely notice her fingers trailing down my chest between the ridge of my abs until they slip under my waistband and wrap around my cock.

  She breaks our kiss and stares up at me. “That’s not your phone is it?”

  “No, that’s definitely not my phone.” We stand there—still staring, her hand still firmly grasping my cock. “Uh, Nyla.”

  “Right. Sorry.” She jerks her hand away so fast it makes her wobble. “The room is starting to spin. I think I need to lie down.”

  She crawls onto the sofa and curls into a fetal position. I leave her resting there and locate a bathroom, rummaging through some drawers, looking for ibuprofen to leave beside her. Instead, I find a prescription bottle containing a few leftover Xanax. Behind it is another one for sleeping pills dated two years ago. What the hell happened then?

  “Memphis,” Nyla calls out from the other room. I give up my search for the pain reliever and find a waste bucket to place next to her in case she needs to get sick. When I return, her eyes are half-opened.

  “I’m right here.” I set the bucket on the floor and pull a blanket off the arm of a chair to cover her.

  She gives me a lazy smile, but then her brows pinch together. “I’m sorry I ruined our moment. I guess Jen’s right. I am a slut when I drink.”

  “You didn’t ruin anything. And you’re not a slut. You just need a little liquid courage to admit what you want.”

  She draws the blanket over her shoulder tucking it under her chin. “I know what I want. The alcohol just helps me forget for a little while.”

  “Forget what, angel?” I ask, stroking her hair.

  “Forget that I don’t deserve it.”

  Her eyes close and she drifts off leaving my mind full of questions I can’t ask her now. What doesn’t she deserve? Love? A relationship? Happiness? What happened to make her believe such a thing? Maybe she is embezzling. But if so, why?

  As I watch Nyla sleep, my con man instincts kick in. If I was smart, I’d use this time to search the house and gather information I can exploit or at least file away to use later. But I don’t want to do that. I want her to be the one to confess all her secrets to me—not because I want to use them against her, but because I want to know her. And I want her to trust me enough to confide in me.

  Knowing I’ll snoop if I stay, I kneel beside Nyla and caress her cheek with the back of my fingers. “Sweet dreams, angel. I’ll see you Monday.”

  As I pull my hand away, she grasps it. “You’re leaving?”

  “Yeah, I should go.”

  “You said you should go, but do you have to go?”

  “No. I don’t have to.”

  “If I promise not to shove my hands down your pants again, would you mind staying for a little while? I just want someone to hold me. No, that’s not true. I want you to hold me. I know I’ll probably kick myself tomorrow for telling you that, but right now, I don’t care.”

  Even though I know I shouldn’t, I slide down beside her allowing her to nestle into me. I tell myself it’s okay. This is what I’m here to do. Create a bond. Make her fall in love with me. I just have to keep myself from falling in love with her. And I have a feeling that’s going to be damn near impossible. As she dozes off in my arms, I imagine what it would be like to hold her like this every night.

  I glance around the room looking for tiny clues of who this woman is behind closed doors. The moonlight filtering in through the windows highlights vaulted ceilings and gives hints to the size of the house. One much too big for one person. It’s beautifully decorated with an eclectic mix of high-end designer furnishings and art while still giving off a homey feel, yet it feels empty. Lifeless.

  Any other time I would be estimating its worth, but all I can think about is how lonely Nyla must get here. There isn’t one thing out of place to give it that “lived in” feel. The only incongruous item I see is a custom framed picture of two stick figures holding hands drawn in red crayon. A child’s drawing displayed with all the prestige of a Monet or Degas.

  For the next half hour, I let my thoughts wander, filling the house with kids of our own. I see more children’s artwork and report cards hanging on the refrigerator; Christmas mornings dressed in pajamas opening toys left by Santa; Mason playing the good uncle, putting together a new bike or dollhouse. Edward and my dad hanging out on a random Sunday discussing how the Red Sox will fare next season, while Nyla and I put the finishing touches on dinner.

  It’s not unusual for me to think about marriage already. After all, my whole goal is to find a way to accelerate the relationship and get a woman to the altar as quickly as possible. But this is different. I’m not thinking about a score. Or a wedding. I’m envisioning a life. A life I want. A life with her.

  The thought works like a jolt of caffeine, and suddenly I’
m wide awake. I shake my head forcing away the images. What the hell am I doing? I’m losing perspective. I know better than this. I have to get out of here before I start coming up with names for our damn grandkids. I slip out from under her, convincing myself I’m doing it because I promised Colin I would be a gentleman, not because I’m starting to blur the lines.

  Nyla catches my hand. “You’re not staying? You can if you’re too tired.”

  “Thanks, but I can’t tonight.”

  “Another early flight?” she teases.

  I grin but don’t answer. With reluctance, and I mean a lot of fucking reluctance, I step away. Our hands stretch apart until only our forefingers are linked. Her grip tightens.

  “I’m glad you came tonight.”

  “Me too. Do you want to lock up behind me or do you want me to take your key?”

  “There’s a spare one on the rack by the door. You can take that and give it to me Monday,” she mumbles, settling into the pillow too exhausted to keep her eyes open any longer. I stand there for several minutes watching her sleep before I catch myself doing it. Jen’s right. I am a creeper.

  I find the other key and close up behind me after setting the alarm, thankful it doesn’t require a code. Once I’m outside, I do a quick perimeter check. All seems quiet. Whoever the man was, he’s gone now. I pull out my phone and call for a ride. Then I fire off a text to Colin.

  Nyla is home safe. ALONE. Being a gentleman sucks.

  I get an instant reply:

  Haha Thanks. You’re a good guy. Glad you came tonight. Alex will be even happier you didn’t.

  I chuckle. This is one of the best nights I’ve had in … well I don’t think I’ve ever had a better night. I spend Sunday playing basketball with the guys. Afterward, we clean up and meet the girls for dinner at a quaint little Polish restaurant in the East Village.

  Nyla seems pleased when she sees me. I slip my arm around her waist in a sort of half hug and kiss her cheek. She smiles. “I didn’t know you were coming.”