The Redemption of Memphis Drake: A Second Chance Romance

by Shay Stone

  The saliva is gone from my mouth, leaving my tongue feeling like sandpaper. “What about my son?” I manage to croak out.

  Nyla spins on her heels storming towards me. “He’s my son.”

  “He’s our son, and I have a right to see him.”

  “You’re not taking him away from me. I won’t let you.”

  It hurts that she thinks I would do something like that, but I understand her rationale. I left her at the altar. She wouldn’t put anything past me, including kidnapping our child. I hurry to ease her mind. “Angel, I would never do that. I just want to be part of his life.”

  “He’s better off without you,” Mike snaps.

  “Man, shut the hell up. No one’s talking to you. This is between me and Nyla. I’m not turning my back on my son.”

  “No, you just turned your back on his mother,” he jeers.

  He’s lucky he’s holding Conner, or I’d tear him apart limb by limb. And I’d fucking enjoy every second of it.

  “I’m not turning my back on her either. In fact, I’ll marry her right now. How ‘bout it, angel? Since we both know this marriage is bullshit.”

  Nyla’s eyes narrow. “You know you’re a real bastard.”

  Dammit. That was an asshole thing to say, even if I did mean every word.

  Mike hands Conner off to Nyla. Stupid mistake. Now I can kill him. “Sweetheart, why don’t you take Conner to the car. I’ll handle this.” Nyla whispers something to him and Mike presses a kiss to her temple and mutters, “I’m not making any promises.”

  She heads off toward the parking lot, glancing back at us several times along the way. Once she’s walked a decent distance, Mike moves in closer, raising his voice. “Now you listen to me you son-of-a-bitch …” He grips my shirt yanking me to him. I’m about to unleash, when he whispers, “Is she still looking?”

  His face conveys anger, but his tone does not. “Sorry about the punch. Had to make it look good in front of the bitch. Meet me at The Blind Pig tomorrow at noon.” He pushes me away and takes a few steps backward, resuming his performance. “You hear me? Stay the hell away from my family!”

  “I know you killed Angie,” I toss out low enough for only him to hear.

  He smirks, coming towards me again. “Did I? Or did you? The Blind Pig tomorrow.”

  Giovanni sidles next to me as we watch Mike leave. “Memphis, you alright?”

  “No. Not even a little bit.” Angry stares penetrate me from all sides. My mind reels, too overwhelmed by everything that’s just happened to contemplate what to do next. I need to think. “I’m sorry. I gotta go.”

  “I know you’ve got a lot of shit going on, but we need to talk. I’ve got a lot of questions, and I’m sure you do too.”

  That’s an understatement.

  “Soon. But not now, okay?”

  “Yeah, sure.” We do a quick exchange of numbers and I take off towards the entrance.

  What the hell has been going on for the last three years?

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  The Blind Pig is a restaurant-bar located in the Fashion District. Pictures of famous bootleggers like George Remus, Adolphus Busch, and Al Capone, line the exposed brick walls like mugshots. Soft jazz plays overhead loud enough to hear, but low enough not to be an annoyance when conversing. I scan the crowd and locate Mike at the bar, nursing his usual Southern Comfort and harassing an attractive waitress.

  “Memphis,” he drawls like we’re best friends again. “Sorry, gorgeous. My buddy and I’ve got some catching up to do. Bring him a whiskey neat and don’t let me leave without getting your number.”

  Great! As if scamming Nyla wasn’t bad enough. He’s also cheating on her. The waitress forces a smile and scampers off, probably happy to be saved from any more unwanted advances. Mike rises from his stool and leads me to a corner booth in the back with more privacy.

  “Phone,” he demands, extending his hand.

  I start to protest, but hand it over begrudgingly. I taught him too well. He smirks when he sees the recorder has been switched on. We engage in small talk about my dad while he disables the device. “How’s Cal?”

  “Not good. I doubt he has much time left,” I reply coolly because I know he doesn’t really give a shit.

  He snickers staring into his drink. “I could tell you I’m sorry, but I’m not. That asshole ruined my life. My dad killed himself because yours couldn’t keep his damn hands off my mother.”

  “Really? You’re going to make my dad the bad guy in all this?”

  “He’s the one that stole my dad’s family out from under him. I guess it’s poetic that I stole yours.” He takes a swig of alcohol, waiting for the waitress to finish dropping off my whiskey before continuing. “I gotta tell you, the look on your face when your little brat called me ‘Daddy,’ well it was almost as good as the day I came to the church pretending Vito’s goons beat me up. So come on, tell me, because I’m dying to know. How long did it take before you figured out it was me?”

  My head jerks up. Mike clutches his stomach, falling to his side guffawing when he realizes I have no clue what he’s talking about. “Oh shit! You mean you didn’t know? I thought that was why you came back. When you said you knew about Angie, I thought you figured it all out.”

  I grit my teeth. “No. Please enlighten me. What exactly should I have figured out?”

  “Ah, Memphis you disappoint me. You’re supposed to be the smart one.” He leans across the table on his elbows, lowering his voice. “So, you know I killed Angie, but you don’t know why?”

  “Obviously not,” I snip, annoyed that I still haven’t put it together.

  He shakes his head, snickering. “We were working together, dumbass. Angie and I set the whole thing up.”

  “You set what up? And what do you mean you were working together? How the hell did that happen?”

  “I wanted to prove to you I could run a con. I thought if I made contact first and hooked her in, maybe you’d let me do it. I’d been tailing her for a few days when I decided to follow her into a bar one night. That’s when she made me. You know, she was a lot smarter than you or Harlan gave her credit for.”

  He tips his glass and drapes his arm over the back of the booth. “Anyway, she asked me why I’d been following her. We had a couple drinks and got to talking. She told me how much she hated her chauvinistic dick of a father and how he wouldn’t let her touch her inheritance. And I told her what an arrogant bastard you were and how much I fucking hated you. That’s when we came up with the plan to steal from the church and frame the two of you for it.”

  He laughs. “Do you know how many times I had to bite my tongue when you bitched at me for doing shitty recon knowing the whole time, I was setting you up to take the fall? While you were working Harlan and Angie, I was creating bogus accounts, stealing cash, and funneling money using James Hamilton’s name. I bought cars, vacation homes, anything that would leave a paper trail, so when the time was right, we could turn you in.”

  “But first you needed me to marry and divorce Angie so I could split the settlement with you. She knew Harlan would pay me off because he’d done it before. But given how Harlan felt about women being involved in business, I’m guessing Angie didn’t know about his financial situation.”

  “She had no clue. I found out by accident when a process server showed up at the office with foreclosure papers on one of Harlan’s properties. That’s when I started snooping around and discovered the old geezer was broke. Instead of getting five or ten million, I knew we’d be lucky to get a couple hundred grand. It wasn’t worth it for me to stick around anymore. I needed money. You weren’t the only one with people after you. I had my own debts to pay off.”

  “That’s when you left and targeted Nyla. I’m guessing that didn’t go over too well with Angie.”

  He blows out a long breath. “That’s putting it mildly. Apparently, she had images of us riding off into the sunset with her daddy’s millions. But you know me. That was never gonna happen
. I strung her along for a while because I needed her to play nice until the divorce was final. By then she’d started falling under that Memphis Drake spell of yours,” he says, waving his hand at me.

  “She was having second thoughts about framing me?”

  “Can you believe that? Months and months of work and she wanted to back out. She thought you loved her. I’ll give you that, Memphis. You are good at what you do. That stupid cunt knew you were conning her, and she still fell for you.”

  Pangs of guilt gnaw their teeth into me. I really was an asshole. “Is that why you killed her? Because she was going to back out?”

  “Nah, I figured after you got whatever money you could and gave me my half, I’d make an anonymous tip and turn you in myself. But by then Nyla had told me about the codes and I couldn’t figure out how to hack into the computer to change them. Moreau’s security was a lot more complex than the one the church used. I needed your help getting into the system to make sure I wouldn’t get caught.”

  He smirks. “It was so easy, too. All I had to do was feed that damn ego of yours and you were all ready to ride in and play the hero. You couldn’t wait to show me how much smarter you were than me. What is it you always say? If someone wants an idiot, give ’em an idiot. You wanted an idiot, so I gave you one. And you showed me everything I needed to know. Once I had you there, I decided I might as well use you to my advantage. But as usual, you came in wanting to run everything.”

  He flags down the waitress and orders another round of drinks and some chicken wings, like we’re sitting around watching a football game instead of discussing how he ruined my life and killed a woman.

  “You were so fucking cocky. Threatening to turn me in when you found out I was the one stealing. I can’t believe you were dumb enough to think I was going to disappear and let you shack up with Nyla and her millions while I walked away with nothing. I was so pissed I almost called Vito and told him exactly where to find you. But then I thought, no, I want to make him suffer. And I learned a long time ago, the best way to hurt you was to hurt the ones you love. That’s why I figured out a way to make you destroy Nyla and give up everything you ever wanted in the process.”

  This is all just one big joke to him. “It was great watching you walk out on her. You know she had a breakdown after you left. Didn’t leave the house for a month. Bitch never should have chosen you over me. That’s what she gets.”

  I lunge across the table, grabbing him by the shirt. The commotion attracts unwanted attention. The burly bartender with the man bun rounds the bar and is at our table in seconds with another gorilla equal in size. “Are we gonna have a problem here?”

  “No. No problem at all,” Mike assures him. “Is there Memphis?”

  I fold back into my seat continuing to stare daggers into Mike. “No. No problem.”

  As much as I want to beat the shit out of him for what he’s done, getting arrested is the last thing I need. It won’t score me any points with Nyla. And I’ve got a family to think about. Being in New York is dangerous enough. In prison, I’d be a sitting duck. I might as well gift wrap myself for Vito.

  I take a long swallow of whiskey to compose myself. Right now, I need information. The more I find out, the better chance I have of doing exactly what Mason said—beating Mike at his own game. Because apparently, it’s been his game all along. I just didn’t know it.

  Things are starting to come together in my head now. Mike’s comment about Angie having tabloid magazines lying all over the place; the words Angie screamed at me when we were leaving the mediation, “He was right about you. You’re just an arrogant bastard who thinks he’s smarter than everyone else.”

  Those are Mike’s words. It was his damn mantra to me growing up. At the time I assumed the “he” Angie was referring to was Harlan or some lover. I didn’t know one of her lovers was Mike.

  “That still doesn’t answer why you killed Angie … or Harlan.” I don’t bring up Sally, careful not to show my hand. I don’t want to tip him off about the photo.

  “I didn’t have anything to do with Harlan. That was all Vito. But Angie … that bitch didn’t give me a choice. When you filed for divorce and she discovered Harlan had squandered her inheritance, she was livid. She started feeding the feds information about the embezzlement. I told her I was working a new mark and begged her to hold off saying anything about your involvement because I still needed you. That’s when she turned on me. Accused me of choosing you over her.”

  A different waitress returns with our drinks and Mike’s chicken wings, giving him a wink as she walks away. His eyes slide over her as he dunks one in a mini ramekin filled with Bleu Cheese and sucks on it. “I gave her some bullshit line about doing it for us. I thought I’d talked some sense into her, but she cracked when her father got arrested. You know how she was with him—one minute she hated him; the next she loved him. She threatened to tell the police everything. The night you told me about Vito, I met her at a bar and told her she needed to keep her damn mouth shut or she’d get us all killed.”

  “Angie wasn’t a fan of being told what to do.”

  “No, she wasn’t,” Mike agrees. “She started talking about going to the feds and ratting us out in exchange for immunity for Harlan. There was no way I was gonna let that happen.”

  “That’s why you killed her.”

  “Yep. Did it with my bare hands too,” he says with a sick pride, making a strangling motion to be certain I get the full effect. “You want to talk about a high? Watch someone gasping for air, knowing you control whether they live or die. What an adrenaline rush! Now that’s power.”

  He’s completely lost it. I’ve got to get this psychopath away from Nyla and my son. He’s killed two people that I know of. Who knows how many more he’s left in his wake?

  He wags a finger at me. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering how you can turn me in and get me away from your precious Nyla.” He leans back, tossing the wing bone in a basket. “You can’t. Think about it. You’ll look like a jealous prick trying to break up his ex-fiancée’s new marriage. And if you point the finger at me, I’ll point it right back at you. Who’s got a bigger motive? They’re already looking for James Hamilton. Oh! And I’ve got this.”

  He wipes off his hand with a napkin and pulls up a video on his phone of me outside the bar in Black Rock. “Check out the date stamp. It places you just a few miles from where Angie’s body was found on the night of her murder. Try explaining that one away. I bet the police would love to see this.”

  The bastard set me up. He knew I’d come there when he called. He killed Angie then waited in the shadows to get footage to incriminate me.

  “I could still tell Nyla the truth about you. I’d risk going to jail if it meant keeping her and Conner safe.”

  “Would you be keeping them safe? You tell Nyla about me and I go straight to Vito and tell him about her and Conner. What do you think Vito’s crew would do to a pretty little thing like Nyla to make her talk?”

  My entire body vibrates with hatred. Perhaps I was wrong. Maybe I am the murdering type because right now, all I can think about is smashing this glass against Mike’s head and using one of the shards to slit his throat.

  “Did you just bring me here to gloat? What is it you want?”

  “I want money. A lot of it. And you’re going to help me get it.”

  “And how do you propose I’m going to do that?”

  “Easy. You’re going to seduce my wife,” he replies, sucking on another wing bone. “Oh, come on. Don’t act like you weren’t planning on doing it anyway. It’ll be fun. For once you’ll get to be the other man. It’s the least you can do considering you’re the only reason Nyla wanted a prenup.”

  He’s taunting me. I dig my nails into the vinyl booth to keep from flying over the table at him again. He traces his finger around the rim of his glass, tilting his head to the side. “Of course, I insisted on an infidelity clause. If she cheats within the first five years, I g
et five million dollars. Not too shabby, huh? I get more if I stick around longer, but I’m not about to do that. I’m already bored as shit.”

  “Why not just drain her bank account? You’ve got to be on it by now.”

  “I’m not. Everything’s separate. She’s not as trusting as she used to be thanks to you.” He leans back in the booth picking his teeth with his pinky. “I still can’t believe she agreed to marry me. You know, it’s funny. I’d been working her for over a year and a half with no luck. I was about to give up, when just like that,” he says with a snap of his fingers, “She said yes.”

  “I can’t believe she agreed to go out with you in the first place.”

  “Believe me, it wasn’t easy. I ‘bumped’ into her in the park about a year and a half ago,” he recounts, making air quotes around the word. “We bonded over how much you hurt us. I did the whole friend thing with her for a while. I’d make jokes about how much you would hate knowing we were spending time together. I think that’s what finally convinced her to go out with me. She wanted to do something to get back at you.”

  It makes sense. She knows how much I hated Mike.

  “But I couldn’t get her to marry me. And believe me, I tried everything. I got involved in all her charity shit. I threw you in her face, claiming she was pushing me away and punishing me for your mistakes. I even stole her birth control pills, hoping I’d knock her up. Then I got smart,” he boasts, tapping his finger to his temple. “I used the kid to get to her. I started teaching it to call me daddy when she wasn’t around.”

  Did he just refer to my son as “it”?

  “That helped, but she was still holding out. I was about to cut my losses when about a week and a half ago, she said, ‘Ask me to marry you again.’ So, I did. She said, ‘Yes,’ I signed the prenup, and we were in Vegas the next day. I swear it came out of nowhere.”

  I stare down at my napkin, slowly ripping it to pieces. It didn’t come out of nowhere. My phone call was what did it. I’m certain of it. I pushed her right into his arms. “Nyla doesn’t even want to talk to me. What makes you think I can get her to sleep with me?”