The Redemption of Memphis Drake: A Second Chance Romance

by Shay Stone

  “You really are an ungrateful bastard, aren’t you? Do you want to go to jail? Because I can make that happen. I can tell them everything.”

  “You can, but you won’t. Because then you wouldn’t get to look like the big hero swooping in to save the day. That’s why you’re willing to let Harrison take the fall. You know damn well you can’t tell Nyla about me without telling her about you. I wonder what she’d say if she found out the only reason you’re with her is to screw her out of millions.”

  “That’s not why we’re together,” I bark, hopping out of the chair, checking to make sure Emily hasn’t returned—something I should have done before this conversation started. I close the door and spin to face him. “I love her, and she loves me.”

  He guffaws, holding his belly as though I’d said the funniest thing in the world. “Oh my god, you actually believe that. You really think you’re this guy? Someone who works a normal, boring-ass job, hangs out with movie stars and billionaires, and spends every Sunday having a big family dinner with the in-laws?”

  He grabs my wrist, holding it up to show me the handmade bracelet I haven’t taken off since Mikayla gave it to me. “Are you going to pretend you actually give two shits about those dumb kids? That it’s not all just a ploy to make Nyla to fall for you?” He drops my hand and shakes his head. “Jesus, Memphis, I’ve seen you pull some amazing cons, but I never thought I’d see the day when you pulled one over on yourself. You honestly believe Nyla loves you?”

  “She does,” I snap, clenching my fists.

  “No, she doesn’t. She loves the person you’re pretending to be. But if you’re so sure, let’s go talk to her,” he threatens, walking towards the door pointing down the hall for emphasis. “You think she’ll stay with you once she learns you’re nothing more than a two-bit con man? She won’t. And do you think Edward is going to let you marry his daughter and welcome you into his family with open arms after he finds out you’ve been married and engaged how many times now? You’re fooling yourself.”

  “That’s not who I am anymore.”

  “Yes it is. That’s who you always were and who you’ll always be. It’s in your blood, just like it’s in mine. You’re only lying to yourself if you think otherwise.”

  “What do you mean it’s in my blood?”

  “You really don’t know?” he scoffs in disbelief. “How do you think Sheila and your mom knew each other? They used to pull jobs together until she got knocked up with you.”

  “You’re lying. My mom was a nurse.”

  “Sure, after you came along. Before that she was a con, just like mine. Apparently a pretty damn good one, according to Sheila.”

  How dare he try to tarnish my mother’s good name! There’s no way she was a grifter. My mom was the kindest, most honest woman I’d ever known. She was nothing like Sheila. The only reason Mike’s saying this is to hurt me. But then something festers in the back of my mind. Sheila said it was in my blood too. No. It’s not true. I won’t believe it.

  I grab the door handle and fling it open. “Get out. Stay away from me and my family. From now on, you’re on your own. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  “Memphis come on. Don’t let her do this to us.”

  “I said ‘get out!’” I shout, catching Emily’s attention as she returns from her errand.

  She pauses in the middle of taking off her coat to pick up the phone receiver. “Memphis, do you need me to call security?”

  “No. Everything’s fine. Michael was just leaving. Weren’t you?”

  He shakes his head. “Yeah, I’m going. But when all this goes to shit, and it will, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Self-Doubt is Your Enemy

  The aroma of turkey and candied yams permeates the townhouse stirring up memories of when I was a boy. I remember my mom waking up early to put the turkey on and then we’d watch the Macy’s Day parade together while Dad made breakfast. It was our Thanksgiving tradition. Now Nyla and I are starting traditions of our own.

  Even though we could afford to have dinner catered, the thought never entered our minds. Having a big family Thanksgiving dinner we cooked ourselves is something we’ve both always wanted. Dad and Mason have been staying with us the last few days while Cora is in Louisiana spending the holiday with her mother. They’re in the living room with Edward listening to Sports Center and debating whether the Lions have the defense to win the football game later today (they don’t). I’m taking out the knife and platter waiting to carve the turkey while Nyla mixes more butter into the mashed potatoes.

  “And then I thought I’d light my hair on fire and dance naked to YMCA on top of the dining room table. What do you think?” she asks, grinning at me.

  “Hmmm? Oh yeah, that sounds great,” I reply.

  She laughs, bumping her hip into mine. “You haven’t heard one word I’ve said, have you?”

  “I’m sorry, angel. I guess I’m just up in my head. What’d you say?” I turn, giving her my full attention.

  “I said Alex and Colin called from California to wish us a happy Thanksgiving. They’ll be back Sunday and want to have us over for dinner. What’re you thinking about?”

  I look around at the festive Fall decorations situated throughout the townhouse and into the living room where our families are gathered in front of the cozy fireplace. “Nothing really. Just taking all this in. Sometimes it’s hard to believe it’s real.”

  “I know. We’re very lucky.”

  “Yes, we are,” I concur as I dip a finger in the mashed potatoes, stealing a taste. “You know I love you, right? I mean like really crazy, stupid, it’s probably not healthy love you.”

  She laughs scooping the potatoes into a serving bowl. “Yes, I do. And you know I crazy, stupid, it’s probably not healthy love you too.”

  “Why?”

  “Why do I love you?” she asks, screwing up her face like the answer should be obvious.

  “Yeah?”

  “Lots of reasons. You’re kind, brilliant, you make me laugh, you’re dependable. You have a huge heart. And to quote yourself, you’ve got an ass you can bounce a quarter off of.”

  I smile. “I do have a great ass.”

  She swats my behind. “Yes, you do. What’s all this about?”

  “Nothing. I’m just being stupid.”

  The oven timer goes off right as the doorbell rings. “That’s probably Jen and Max. You get the turkey. I’ll get the door.”

  “Yes ma’am,” I reply, pulling the turkey from the oven and setting it on the counter to let it rest for a minute before cutting into it. My dad strolls into the kitchen stealing a deviled egg from a plate. I’ve noticed he’s becoming more forgetful and combative lately, but he seems to be having a good day today. We see the neurologist Edward recommended next week. I’m hoping he’ll give us some good news.

  “You guys went overboard on those appetizers. I think Mason ate half that spinach dip himself. Do you need any help in here?”

  “No sir. Just getting ready to carve the turkey.”

  “You’ve been unusually quiet today. Something wrong?”

  “No. I’m just really happy.”

  He frowns, pulling a bit of stuffing from the turkey and shoving it in his mouth. “If that’s happy, you’re doing it wrong. What’s on your mind?”

  I scoop out the rest of the stuffing into a large bowl and begin slicing the bird. “Do you think people can change? I mean really change?”

  “Absolutely. If they want to.”

  “Did mom change?”

  “You mean after the cancer?”

  “No. Before that.” Mike’s proclamation about my mother has been festering in my mind since he said it. I know I’m treading into dangerous territory. I don’t want to set my dad off, but he’s lucid enough that he may give me the answers I want to know. That I need to know.

  He leans against the counter crossing his arms over his chest. “Who told you? Let me guess. Mike?�
��

  “So, it’s true? She really used to be a con artist?”

  “Yeah, she did.” He sighs like the admission is somehow a betrayal to her. “Don’t judge her, son. She was young and had a rough home life. But she gave all that up.”

  “Because she got pregnant with me.”

  “No because she fell in love with me. She did what she had to do because she didn’t feel like she had a choice. Once she found one, she never looked back. And neither will you.”

  My brows shoot up. “You know what I am?”

  “Of course, I know. I’m your father.”

  “How long have you known?”

  “For a while now. You were very good at hiding it. A part of me always suspected it, but I didn’t know for certain until Mason needed a kidney. You were down for weeks, but the money kept coming in.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I didn’t think you wanted me to know. And the last thing I wanted to do was make you feel guilty. But Memphis, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. You did what you had to do to take care of your family. And I’m grateful for it. Lord knows I didn’t have the means to do it with this,” he says, motioning to his head.

  “What if I can’t give it up?”

  “Do you want to give it up?”

  “Yes. I’m tired of always looking over my shoulder. I want a life and a family. I want to be someone you can be proud of.”

  “But …” he mutters, sensing my hesitation.

  “But Sheila said something years ago that I can’t get out of my head. She said people like us can’t give it up. We live for the high.”

  “Well, that’s your first mistake. Putting yourself in the same category as Sheila. You two are nothing alike. She didn’t have your good heart. You want a high? Wait until you’re standing at the altar and you see Nyla coming towards you in a wedding gown. Or watch your son being born and hold him for the first time. When he wraps his little hand around your finger and looks up at you with those innocent eyes full of wonder, well that’s the greatest high you’ll ever know. Believe me, I speak from experience.” He pats me on the back and crams another deviled egg into his mouth.

  “Thanks Dad.”

  Nyla enters the kitchen draping an arm around my dad and arches a brow. “You’re not in here stealing more deviled eggs, are you?”

  “I have no clue what you’re talking about? I was just keeping Memphis company,” he mumbles, around a mouthful of egg.

  “Uh-huh. Then why are there two more eggs missing from the plate after I just fixed them again?”

  He shrugs and points to his head. “I wouldn’t know anything about that. What’s that Edward? Yeah, I’ll be right there. I should go see what he wants,” he teases, slowly backing out of the kitchen.

  “I’m going to start putting everything on the table. Cal, would you mind telling everyone dinner’s ready?” Nyla asks, grabbing the potatoes and eggs.

  “Sure thing, doll,” he replies, stealing another egg from the plate as she passes earning him a playful scowl from her. He kisses her on the cheek and she smiles, instantly forgiving him.

  He leaves the kitchen and then pokes his head back in. “And Memphis, you couldn’t make me any prouder if you tried.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  I pile the turkey high on the platter and carry it into the dining room where everyone has gathered. The table looks like something out of a magazine, and the scene looks like something out of my dreams. Almost everyone I love and care about is right here in this room. This is it. This is what it’s all about.

  I sit beside Nyla complimenting her on what a fantastic job she’s done. She smiles, giving my knee a squeeze. “Should we have my dad say grace?”

  “Sure,” I say, unfolding my napkin and placing it on my lap. “I think it’s best to save the setting your hair on fire and dancing naked on the table while singing YMCA performance for dessert, don’t you?”

  TWENTY-NINE

  Commit

  There’s nothing like New York during the holidays. The city is always magical, but even more so when it’s in full Christmas mode. Nyla and I spend the next few weeks making a point of doing every cheesy Christmas thing we can think of: Taking pictures in front of the massive tree and ice skating at Rockefeller Center; debating whether Bloomingdale’s or Sax has the better window display; checking out the Radio City Music Spectacular with our friends and family. But the thing I’m most excited about happens today—the annual Katie’s Helpers’ Christmas party.

  Red and green cloths cover the tables of the small VFW banquet hall. Paper snowflakes with glitter flecks alternated with red and green swirls, dangle from the ceiling reflecting the multi-colored lights shining from the artificial Douglas fir tree. The decorations are more whimsical than elegant, giving the room a Dr. Seuss feel perfect for a children’s event. As usual, Nyla has outdone herself.

  The smell of chicken fingers, french fries, mac-n-cheese, and other kid-friendly food and treats has my stomach revolting. But it has nothing to do with the food itself. I draw in a deep breath blowing it out slowly. Damn, I’m nervous.

  Careful to remain out of sight, Edward is hanging the Santa suit he’ll be donning later on a hook in a room closed off from the partygoers. He sees me and smiles giving me two thumbs up. He appears a lot more confident than I am.

  “Hey man. How you feeling?” Colin asks, extending his hand in greeting with Max and Giovanni doing the same.

  “Like I’m about to vomit,” I reply, thankful I decided to skip breakfast.

  He laughs. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

  I asked all our friends and family to be here today, but now I’m wondering if that was a mistake. It doesn’t matter. They probably would have come anyway. They tend to show up for the holiday parties and other important events.

  “Here Comes Santa Clause” by Elvis Presley blares through the loudspeakers bringing a smile to my face. Maybe my mom is sending me a little sign of encouragement. I rub at the ache in my chest. The one that reminds me how much I miss her and wish she was here for special occasions like this. I probably haven’t done much to make her proud of me, but I think she would approve of this. I know she and Nyla would have loved each other.

  The guys and I hole up in the corner watching Nyla laughing and swaying her hips in an exaggerated motion like Elvis, with Alex and Jen doing the same. They’re surrounded by excited kids giggling and imitating their dance moves.

  Nyla stops dancing when a little autistic boy named Spencer approaches, handing her a gift. Her hand goes to her heart. “For me?”

  Spencer nods. She squats down holding out her arms for a hug, giving him the option. He prefers not to be touched, but he always hugs Nyla. He loves her. Everyone loves her. And for some reason, she loves me.

  When the song is over, Nyla lowers the radio and informs the crowd we’ll play a quick game or two before we eat. The kids jump up and down cheering. Mikayla looks to me and I give her a thumbs up. Her smile stretches from ear to ear, growing wider as she approaches Nyla and asks to play the spelling game, just like we planned. She was so excited to help me. These kids have become as much a part of my life as they have Nyla’s. It’s why I wanted to find a way to include them.

  Alex lines everyone up, making sure all the spellers are where they need to be for this to work. She winks, giving me an okay sign, and I know that’s my cue. I was apprehensive about bringing her in on this, but Colin assured me I could trust her, unlike Jen who Max said would have blabbed the second she found out.

  “You ready to do this?” Max asks. I shake my head, feeling in my pockets for the tiny box and have a momentary freak out when I can’t find it. Max lays a hand on my shoulder discretely slipping it to me. “You gave it to me to hold last night, remember? This thing almost got me in a shitload of trouble. Jen nearly found it this morning.”

  I chuckle, imagining Max having to explain his way out of that one and take my place at the end of the line. Nyla sees
me and shoots me a questioning look. The kids usually do the spelling and we do the guessing, so it’s odd for me to be in a spelling position.

  “Okay everyone, I’ve been told that Santa’s sleigh was spotted not too far from here. We need to eat before he gets here, so we’re going to do things a little differently today,” Alex announces, taking control of the game. “Instead of spelling a few words, we’re going to switch after spelling one.”

  Once again, Nyla looks puzzled, but goes with it, guessing her way around the circle. The closer she gets to me, the more my palms sweat. When she reaches the last three people in front of me, I wipe my hands on my pants and blow out a breath, psyching myself up. Here we go.

  “Will,” she guesses correctly, high-fiving the little boy and moving on to the next person.

  “You.” Right again.

  “Marry,” Nyla calls out.

  “She got it! I spelled it right Bocce! Just like we practiced!” Mikayla exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly. I laugh, forgetting my nerves for a second.

  “Good girl,” I reply with a smile. The clarity spreads across Nyla’s face as the last few words begin to register. She gasps, covering her mouth with her hands.

  “Is he doing what I think he’s doing?” Jen asks as everyone congregates around us.

  “I know it goes against the rules, but this one is only two letters,” I inform Nyla, sinking to my knee if front of her. I use my finger to spell out “ME” and pull out the velvet box opening it to reveal a stunning pear cut diamond.

  Nyla remains speechless looking around the crowd and then back at me. My mind goes blank. Dammit. I knew exactly what I wanted to say, and now that I’m kneeling here, I can’t think of a single word. My nerves are getting the best of me. What if she thinks it’s too soon? What if she says ‘no’?

  I scratch the back of my head and start babbling. “For the first time in my life, I’m at a loss for words. You do that to me. You throw me off my game. You came into my life … this beautiful, angelic … pool shark,” I say with a chuckle, making her and everyone else laugh too. “… and turned my world upside down. I had no clue who I was until you found me and showed me the kind of man I wanted to be. You’ve changed everything. You changed me.”