The Redemption of Memphis Drake: A Second Chance Romance

by Shay Stone

“Yes,” I reply, immediately realizing I’m wrong. She didn’t tell me. I told her. She never said it back. And the entire time on the phone, she was acting strange. What I mistook for nerves may have been guilt. Maybe she wasn’t going to tell me about the embezzling. Maybe she was going to tell me she spent the night with another man.

  Sheila’s words echo in my head, “You overlooked things you’d normally never miss.”

  I think about the background behind her while we were talking earlier. Burgundy striped wallpaper with a painting of men on horses surrounded by hunting dogs. I’ve been to Alex and Colin’s penthouse. There’s nothing like that in any of the rooms.

  “Who are you calling?” Mike asks, eyeing me suspiciously as I dial my phone. I hold up my hand for him to be quiet.

  “Hey Colin. I was calling to see if we could push basketball back an hour Sunday. Oh. That’s right. I forgot Nyla said you had to go out of town. Do you need us to check on Alex? Oh, she’s with you? Okay. Yeah, dinner next Saturday sounds great. See you then.”

  Son-of-a-bitch. Nyla lied to me. Mike’s right. She’s fucking Callie all over again. I disconnect the call and whip my phone into the TV on the opposite side of the room.

  “Jesus, Memphis!” Mike says, flinching at my little outburst.

  I pace around the apartment replaying every interaction we’ve ever had, finding suspicion in the simplest things—the time she startled and turned off the computer screen when I came into her office, any instance when she tucked her phone away without answering. A small part of my brain whispers, ‘Talk to her.’ A larger part screams, ‘What’s the fucking point? She’ll only lie.’ And if I ask, that’ll tip her off that I’m on to her. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to do that.

  “I want the names of all the fake companies,” I demand. “I’m assuming you remember at least some of them?”

  I could have asked him for this information weeks ago, but I was stalling, taking my time going through each one because I didn’t want to face the truth and I didn’t know if Mike was lying. Now I want to see it. I need to be slapped in the face with it.

  “All you have to do is look at them. I put them in your desk.”

  “What? When?”

  “I don’t know. Weeks ago. I came to your cubicle, but you weren’t there. I didn’t want to leave them just sitting out for anyone to see, so I put everything into a manila envelope and marked it personal and confidential and stuck it in your desk drawer. You telling me you never got it?”

  “Nope. I assumed you slacked off and never got it to me.”

  “All of it was there, Memphis. I swear.”

  A vague memory of me knocking an envelope like that onto the floor when I brought Nyla breakfast a few weeks back flashes before me. Dammit Nyla.

  No wonder I haven’t been able to find any evidence! While I was busy living in denial, she was busy covering her tracks. I’m such an idiot! I could kick myself for deleting that video of Harrison now. I should’ve known. Sheila was right. You’re either the one running the con or the one being conned.

  “You listen to me. No more half-assed research. I want to know every shitty thing she’s ever done. If she pushed a kid down on the playground in first grade, I want to know about it.”

  “Just Nyla? Or Harrison and Edward too?”

  “Everyone. Including that asshole she had dinner with.”

  “Good. Does this mean you’re finally ready to admit Nyla isn’t the angel you thought she was and do this thing for real?”

  “What are you talking about? I told you Nyla’s never been more than a mark. You’re the one who keeps insisting there’s something more.”

  “Memphis, come on.”

  “I said she’s just a fucking mark!” I scream loud enough to make the neighbors pound on the wall. “Fuck you!” I shout through the drywall, pounding back.

  The sound of the phone ringing breaks the tension. I huff. “Are you gonna answer that?”

  Mike holds up his cell. “It’s not mine.”

  “Well, it’s not mine,” I retort, motioning to my mangled cell lying on the living room floor.

  We follow the sound to the top of my dresser where my James Hamilton phone is plugged in and bouncing around. I didn’t realize I’d left it on when I checked it last. Usually it drives me nuts ringing and chiming because Angie calls or texts nonstop, but she’s left me alone for a while now. Hopefully, that means she’s found some other poor bastard to focus on. I’m relieved when I see my lawyer’s name, not hers, lighting up the screen. With any luck, Harlan’s lawyers worked their magic, got his assets released, and Paul’s calling to say he’s got my money, and I can get the hell out of here. “Yeah, Paul. What is it?”

  “James! Finally! I’ve been trying to reach you. Is Angie with you?”

  “Angie? No. I haven’t seen her since the mediation. Why?”

  He exhales. “I was afraid you were gonna say that.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Harlan’s dead. They found him stabbed to death last night.”

  “Jesus, really?”

  “Yeah. They’ve been trying to contact Angie to tell her, but no one’s seen or heard from her in weeks. The cops want to bring you in for questioning.”

  “They think I had something to do with this?” I ask incredulously.

  “I don’t know. All my source in the department said was that Angie contacted the D.A. claiming she had information Harlan was working with Vito Moretti and was willing to name names if they’d give him an immunity deal. No one’s seen her since.” He takes a long pause. “James, I think they got to her. And if they got to her …”

  “They’ll be looking for me next.”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry, man. I suggest you wrap up whatever you’re doing and disappear fast.”

  And just like that, I became a loose end.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Preserve the Con

  “Shit, man! What are we gonna do?” Mike asks when I fill him in on everything Paul told me.

  “I’ve got to get Mason, and Dad, and Cora out of that house,” I reply, pushing past him.

  “Memphis wait! You can’t go now. They’re probably watching it.”

  “Well, I can’t just leave them there.”

  The apartment Max proffered was supposed to be finished this week. I was waiting on that to avoid moving my dad too much. There also wasn’t an immediate threat. I was pretty sure Tony was just talking shit before to get a rise out of me. But now …

  “Does Vito know where they live?”

  “I’m not sure. I worked hard to keep it from him, but I can’t take that chance.”

  “Listen, you can’t go there.”

  “Mike, I’ve got to get them out. Vito knows the best way to get to me is through them.”

  “Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be the one to go. The moment you set foot inside, they may shoot up the place. That’s assuming they don’t have someone execute you on sight. Let me go instead.”

  Everything Mike is saying makes sense. But that doesn’t mean I like it. “Alright, I’ll call them first thing in the morning and let them know.”

  “No. Don’t. We can’t chance them telling someone. Besides, if they know, they’ll want to bring everything. We need to make it look like I’m just taking them out to eat or to a doctor appointment. I’ll head there and pack up a few things I know are important to you guys and bring them here. The rest of the shit they’ll have to leave behind. You keep working Nyla. You’ve either got to get her to marry you quick or find some dirt we can use to blackmail the family so we can get the money and get the hell out of New York.”

  Reluctantly, I agree.

  I spend all night online trying to find an engagement announcement or something to give me a clue about who this ex-fiancé is and what I’m up against. But it was tough to find anything considering Mike didn’t catch a last name. Even Jen’s Facebook page wasn’t any help. If she had any pictures with him in them, she took them down.
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  Eventually, I give up and lie awake staring at the clock until it’s a reasonable hour to call Max. Seven o’clock is probably still too early on a Saturday, but I do it anyway, claiming a pipe burst flooding my Dad’s house, and ask if I can move them into the apartment today. He says it’s fine and tells me he’ll drop the key off this afternoon.

  An hour later, Mike is on his way up north. Two hours after that I’m at the park sitting on a bench, listening to Gino gripe about Giovanni, who’s late again as usual. I barely hear a word he says. I’m too busy trying to figure out how I’m going to look Nyla in the face and pretend everything is alright when all I want to do is lose my shit on her for lying to me.

  “You’re awfully quiet this morning, Memphis. Everything alright?” Gino asks, massaging his bum knee.

  “I’m fine. Just a little tired,” I lie, not wanting to get into it.

  “You sure that’s all it is?”

  “Yeah.”

  Gino adjusts his position on the bench, unwrapping the foil from a stick of gum. “Alright. Out with it.”

  I slump into the seat waving off the piece he offers me. “Nyla lied to me. She said she was going to meet a friend, but I found out she had dinner with her ex-fiancé. I think she’s cheating on me.”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, okay then. Problem solved. Thanks,” I snort.

  “You want more? Alright. You’re an idiot.” I gawk at him, waiting for him to elaborate. “Nyla’s the one I see you here with every week, right? The one I met?” he asks, referring to last Saturday when I introduced them.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve seen the way she looks at you. That woman is crazy about you. There’s no way she’s cheating. Did you ask her about it?”

  “Well, no. Not yet.”

  “I stand corrected. You’re not an idiot. You’re a dumbass. Do you know how Valerie and I have managed to stay married for twenty-nine years? We talk to each other. We don’t just jump to conclusions. I did that once before we were married, and I almost lost her because of it.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I agree just to shut him up.

  “I am right. And let’s say, for argument sake, there is another guy trying to move in on your lady. Are you just going to be a pussy and let him have her, or are you going to man up and fight for her?”

  Before Gino can come up with anymore names to call me, Giovanni jogs over, saving me from any further assault. He rests his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. “Sorry I’m late. I had an issue come up on a case I’ve been working, and I lost track of time.”

  “Case? You a lawyer?” I ask, grabbing my first ball. All these weeks we’ve been playing, we’ve discussed growing up and family shit, but never our jobs.

  “No, a detective.”

  “Really?”

  Of course, I would befriend a damn detective! If God does exist, I swear he’s up there laughing his ass off at me right now. This is, without a doubt, the most frustrating, half-assed con I’ve ever run. The whole thing is one giant clusterfuck. And just when I think it can’t get any worse, it does.

  Gino pats Giovanni on the back. “Yeah, my son thinks he’s going to be the one to singlehandedly take down the Moretti crime family.”

  “Pop!” Giovanni snaps.

  “What?” Gino exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “Who’s Memphis gonna tell?”

  “Vito Moretti? The mob boss? That sounds dangerous,” I reply, hoping he’ll keep talking and divulge some information. He can’t know about me, right? I’d be in cuffs if he did. I struggle to remain calm, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, and try to keep my hands from shaking.

  “Yeah, Vito’s one of the most ruthless bastards there is. And he’s a slippery son-of-a-bitch too. I’ve almost had him a few times, but he always manages to stay one step ahead of me. But this time I’m gonna nail him.”

  “Oh yeah? Got a good lead?”

  “I got the name of the guy Vito used to set up his overseas accounts for his money laundering operation. If this guy knows what I think he does, I’ll grab him, and lock him up if he doesn’t cooperate. He’d be stupid not to. Vito’s got people on the inside. He wouldn’t live through the night.”

  “And if he does cooperate?”

  “I’ll shove him in WITSEC. But the guy’s a ghost. I can’t find anything on him.”

  “He’s probably dead,” Gino scoffs. “At least if Vito was smart, he would be.”

  He’s not, but he may be soon. And Witness Protection’s not an option. Not with Mason’s health issues. We’d be too easy to trace.

  “Memphis, you alright? You look like you’re gonna pass out,” Giovanni asks with concern.

  “I’m fine. I didn’t sleep well last night. I think I may be coming down with something.” Like two bullets to the back of the head if I’m not careful.

  My phone buzzes. The screen is cracked to shit, but somehow the thing still works. It’s Nyla telling me she’s just pulling in. I grab the package I brought and say goodbye to Gino and Giovanni, agreeing to bring Nyla by the house next Sunday for dinner.

  The knot in my stomach that’s been a constant presence since last night, tightens with each step towards the parking lot. I have no idea how I’ll react when I see her. All I want to do is explode and ask her what the hell she was doing with her ex and why she lied to me. But I know I need to keep a cool head and preserve the con.

  If this was any other woman, I’d be able to slip into character and pretend everything is fine. I’d do whatever needed to be done to close the deal. But that’s not an option this time. Nyla’s different. And I’m different when I’m with her.

  My phone rings again, but this time it’s Mason. “Hey Mase.”

  “Memphis, Mike’s here. He’s trying to tell us we have to move,” he informs me like he’s waiting for me to tell him Mike’s full of shit and he doesn’t have to listen to him.

  “Yeah, buddy. I’m sorry, but something’s come up with work. It’s too much for me to go back and forth. I need to move you guys closer.”

  “No. I’m not going.”

  “Mase, you have to. I’ve got a great new place for you here. You’re going to love it.”

  “I don’t care. I’m not leaving. Every time you drag us somewhere new, I never say shit. But not this time, Memphis. I like it here. I want to stay.”

  “I know you do and I’m sorry. But this isn’t up for discussion. I can explain more when you get here. For now, I need you to do what I’m asking. Only take the things you absolutely need. I’ll buy you new stuff once you’re here.”

  “Are you gonna get me a new girlfriend, too?” he fires back. He’s upset and I hate it. But there’s nothing I can do. His safety is my only priority. I can hear his voice shake as he continues. “For the first time, I feel like I belong somewhere, and you want to take it all away. The only thing you care about is your stupid job. Well, I’m not going. I’m old enough to live on my own.”

  “Oh yeah? And how do you plan on doing that? You have no job. No place to live. No money except for the credit card I pay for. And who’s going to take care of you when you have one of your spells? You think I’m going to pay for Cora to stay up there and get another nurse for Dad down here?”

  “We can all stay here, and you can go wherever the hell you want. It’s better when you’re not around anyway. Every time you come back you turn everything upside down. You tell us what to do and we get no say in it. Well, I’m sick of it!”

  “Well, that’s just too damn bad! You think I like having to take care of everyone? Do you have any idea the things I’ve done for this family? Anytime one of you wants to get a job and throw in some money you go right ahead. Until then, I’ll be the one making the decisions.”

  “I’m sorry we’re such a fucking burden!”

  “Goddammit, Mason. Quit acting like an ungrateful little brat, pack your shit, and get your ass in the fucking car!”

  “I hate you!” he screams.

>   “Yeah, well fuck you!” I shout back and the line goes dead.

  Shit. I’ve never spoken to him like that in my life. I immediately regret every word I said. He’s pissed and he has every right to be. I try to call him back to apologize, but it goes straight to voicemail. I never should have listened to Mike. If I’d gone up there, I could have explained why this move was necessary. Mike probably went in there like a damn dictator ordering everyone around.

  A tidal wave of emotion comes crashing over me at once. It’s too overwhelming. My chest tightens and I can’t seem to catch my breath. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion and speeding up at the same time. How is that even possible?

  I debate leaving to buy myself some time to clear my head, but Nyla spots me before I get the chance. An ear to ear smile lights up her face. She abandons the box she was retrieving from the backseat and practically trips over her own feet to get to me.

  She leaps into my arms wrapping her legs around me. “I love you too, Memphis Drake.”

  As much as I hate to admit it, it’s exactly what I need to hear right now. I bury my head in the crook of her neck and tighten my grip, just holding her. I know it’s pathetic. But I don’t care. Having her in my arms is tethering me at a time my world is spinning out of control.

  In my mind, I start making excuses to justify Nyla’s actions. Maybe last night was a goodbye dinner. Maybe she was telling him she was breaking it off because she’s in love with me.

  She pulls back flashing a huge smile, her eyes shining. “I wanted to call you back and tell you last night, but it sounded like whatever Michael needed to talk to you about was important.” Her brows pinch together. “Hey, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  Everything.

  “Nothing. I didn’t sleep well.”

  She gives me that look that tells me she knows I’m full of shit. She slides off me and grabs my hand lugging me over to the car. “Alright, spill it, mister.”

  I lean against the trunk setting the package on top. “Mason and I got into a fight. He said he hated me and that my family was better off without me.”

  “Memphis, you know he didn’t mean it. Mason adores you.”