by Shay Stone
Need to talk. Stop avoiding me.
He’s texted me a few times since I saw him in the park, but I’m not ready to bring him in on all this yet. I shove my cell into my pocket without replying. “Mike,” I say curtly, interrupting his mini make out session with the waitress.
“It’s about damn time you got here. You’ve got some catching up to do. Baby, why don’t you go rustle us up some drinks. Memphis and I have some business to discuss.”
She pushes out her bottom lip, pouting, but peels herself off him. He smacks her ass and cranes his neck watching her sashay away. “Damn that girl knows her way around a dick!” he comments, lifting his drink to his mouth and eyeing me over the rim. “You fucked my wife yet?”
“Jesus! Will you keep your voice down?” I climb onto the chair across from him.
“Like I give a shit what these people think. Answer the question.”
The alcohol on his breath is strong enough to reach me across the table. He’s being loud and obnoxious, and his speech is rapid, making me think he’s indulged in more than alcohol. He better not have drugs in the same house as my son.
“Not yet.”
“What’s the hold up?”
“There’s a lot of history to get past. She’s not just going to jump into bed with me. Nyla’s not like that. She’s not a cheater.”
“Well, you better make her one. I want solid proof to make sure she can’t contest the divorce, and I want it soon, Memphis.”
I puff out a breath. “I’m working on it.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Are you? I’m starting to think you don’t understand what’s at stake. Do you want me to hurt her? Because I will.”
“I swear to god if you touch her, I’ll call this whole thing off. I’ll turn myself in and make sure you walk with nothing.”
“Oh yeah, and who’s going to take care of your dad if you do that? Mason won’t be able to afford it. Cal will end up on the street. Now what’s the plan?”
“I told you I’m working on it. I’m with Nyla and Conner every morning and we’re having lunch together tomorrow.”
He tips his glass to me. “Ah, finally using the kid. I told you that was the best way to get to her.” He rocks back on his chair lifting the front legs off the ground. I hope he fucking falls over. “Nyla tells me you’re working for Max now.”
“Yeah. I needed a job if I was going to stay here.”
“I tried to get a job with him when I first came back, thinking maybe I could get in and liberate some cash from him. That guy makes so much damn money it’d probably be a while before he noticed any was missing. But the bastard wouldn’t hire me.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t. He thinks you’re a dick. Can’t imagine why.”
He snorts. “You know, since you’re working there …”
“No,” I state flatly, knowing where the conversation is heading.
He smirks and lowers his chair, allowing the legs to scrape against the ground. “Come on, Memphis. You already have the in. You want me gone, right? Five million. That’s my price. I don’t care where you get it from.”
“You think I can just go in there and start moving that much money around without anyone noticing? Max is already watching me like a hawk because of what you told him.”
He holds his hands up. “Hey, I’m just giving you an alternative, since you don’t seem to be making any progress with Nyla.”
The waitress sets down two of whatever Mike’s drinking and moves on to take the order of the couple next to us. I lean in lowering my voice. “I’ll get you your damn money. You didn’t exactly make things easy for me by telling Nyla and her friends that bullshit story.”
“Hey, I did what I had to do to get the job done, just like you would have done. I didn’t know you’d be coming back.”
“I thought you were doing this to get back at me. Because you hated me so much. Isn’t that what you said? If you didn’t know I was coming back, why target Nyla? Why not just move on to someone new?”
“You already know the answer to that. Why spend months working someone else when I already had an in with her? Though I’ll admit, I didn’t think it’d take her this long to come around once you were out of the way. You showing up and getting the chance to rub it in your face, well that was just a bonus. But this whole family man shit has gotten old. I hate kids, and Nyla is boring as shit. She doesn’t like to party. Won’t do drugs. Won’t go anywhere without that little brat. I’m telling you, I wouldn’t have stuck around this long if she wasn’t such a good lay.”
He’s saying that just to piss me off and it’s working. I take my aggression out on a napkin, twisting and crumpling it up, pretending it’s Mike’s neck I’m wringing. I toss it on the table as I rise from my chair. “Just stay out of my way and let me do my job. Now if there’s nothing else, I’ve got shit to do.”
“Have a good night. You know, you really should consider the Max thing. The sooner I’m gone, the safer Nyla and Conner are. The longer it takes you to get my money, the more miserable I’ll have to make them. You know, to help you out.” He winks, swilling his drink.
Asshole. I’ve got to step up my game. I’ve been trying to take it slow to earn Nyla’s trust, but that’s not an option anymore. I leave and catch a cab to the grocery store, picking up all of Nyla’s favorites. Tomorrow, I plan on taking her and Conner to the park for a picnic. It should be quieter and give us a bit more privacy in case I can persuade Nyla to hear me out.
I push my cart down the snack aisle, overwhelmed by the assortment of cookies, crackers shaped like animals, and fruit snacks. Fifteen minutes later, I’m still standing there comparing two boxes, no closer to a decision, and have to ask a nearby mother for help. It’s absurd that I have no clue what my own son eats, but she doesn’t seem surprised. That’s sad for its own reasons.
Per her suggestion, I grab applesauce cups and something called Go-Gurt. I’m trying to decide between two types of Lunchables when my phone rings. “Hey, Mase. Do you think a two-year-old would like ham or turkey better?”
“I don’t know. Turkey, I guess. But I hate ham.”
I toss both into my basket in case Conner doesn’t like one. “Is everything alright, you sound stressed.”
He hem-and-haws for a few seconds before getting to it. “Dad had another mini-stroke. He’s okay, but it took longer for him to bounce back from this one. It scared the crap out of me, Memphis. They said these could be precursors to a bigger one. I’m sorry. I know this is the last thing you need with everything on your plate right now. Are you coming home this weekend?”
“I wasn’t planning on it since I came last weekend. But if you need me to, I can.”
“No, it’s alright. Just keep your phone on, okay? I’m not as good at dealing with this stuff as you are.”
I feel horrible having to rely on him like this, but it can’t be helped. And it reminds me that I’m needed there as much as I’m needed here. Man, I’ve got to figure some shit out and quick.
I hang up with Mase and text Nyla.
M: Does Conner like chocolate pudding?
N: Conner likes anything with the word chocolate in it.
M: Just like his momma. I thought we’d have a picnic tomorrow.
N: Conner would like that.
I decide to press my luck.
M: Would his momma like that?
There’s a long pause as dots fill my screen, stopping several times and starting up again. She’s either texting back a book or she keeps erasing what she’s writing.
N: She’d like that very much. See you in the morning?
I do a little fist pump in the middle of the aisle.
M: Of course. Those 10 minutes are the best part of my day.
More dots.
N: They’re his favorite part too.
M: Are they his momma’s too?
More dots. A pause. More dots. Another pause. More dots.
N: Goodnight, Memphis.
M: Goodnight. Sweet
dreams, angel. Kiss Conner for me.
A smile stretches across my face. She’s warming up to me. I’m going to get my family back.
FORTY-TWO
At seven-thirty, I’m in the lobby waiting for Nyla and Conner with a stupid ass grin that hasn’t left my face since last night. I already dropped my briefcase and picnic basket upstairs to keep the food cold. I sent Nyla a message first thing this morning telling her how excited I am about today. I hope she is too.
The grin on my face is replaced with a worry line on my forehead when a half hour later there’s still no sign of them. I pace around the lobby checking my phone for the tenth time. It’s now twenty minutes past eight and Nyla still isn’t here. I’ve texted her three times asking if she’s alright, but she hasn’t replied. I’m a wreck. Maybe they came in while I was upstairs.
I catch the elevator to the nineteenth floor, convincing myself I must have missed them. The doors open and I search the daycare room for Conner, but I don’t see him. I march up to the desk speaking over the man standing there. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Janine, did Nyla drop Conner off yet?”
“No. I haven’t seen them. Maybe they’re running late?” she offers, sensing my concern.
“Yeah, maybe.” Or maybe Mike got drunk and stoned off his ass, flew into a rage, and now she and Conner are lying in a hospital somewhere.
I ride the elevator up to Moreau Enterprises and charge towards Edward’s office, ignoring the gaping mouths and whispers along the way. Yeah, I’m back, people. Get used to it.
“Memphis! What are you doing here?” Emily asks, jumping in front of me before I can barge my way in.
I blow out a frustrated breath. “Have you heard from Nyla today?”
“No, why?”
“Then I need to speak with Edward,” I state, pushing my way past. She rushes ahead of me again, extending her arms across the door frame. “Get out of my way, Emily.” I don’t want to trample her, but I will.
“He’s on a call. You can’t go in there.”
“It’s alright Emily. Let him in,” Edward calls out from his position behind his desk. He tugs off his reading glasses tossing them onto a stack of papers. “Memphis, what the hell are you doing here? I thought I told you—”
“Have you heard from Nyla?” I interrupt now in a full panic.
My frantic tone and the mention of his daughter’s name softens him a bit. “No, I haven’t. She’s probably in her office.”
“No, she’s not. The lights are off, and Conner isn’t at daycare.”
“Calm down.” He picks up the phone dialing. “I’m sure she’s just running late or maybe she wasn’t feeling well.” He frowns. “Voicemail.”
“Goddamn it. I’m going to the house.” I turn, marching out.
“Memphis, I’m sure she’s fine,” he says, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself as much as he is me.
“Maybe. Or maybe Mike did something to her,” I snap, spinning to face him.
He screws up his face. “What do you mean did something to her?”
“I mean I’ve been trying to tell you guys he’s dangerous, but none of you will fucking listen to me!” I’ve never used that kind of language in front of him, but I’m tired of people not grasping how serious this is.
“You’re exaggerating a bit, aren’t you? I know Michael. He would never …”
“You don’t know shit!” I blast, taking him aback.
“Hey,” Emily interrupts, stepping gingerly into the room holding up her phone. “Nyla just texted me. Conner’s running a fever. She’s staying home today.”
My phone goes off a few seconds later with a text echoing the same thing. Edward pulls out his chair and takes a seat at his desk. “You see that? She’s fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. I don’t want to see you on this floor again. If I do, I’ll call security.”
He thinks I’m overreacting. I scrub my hand over my forehead. “You don’t want to believe me, that’s on you. But ask yourself this: If this was all a con and all I cared about was the money, then why the hell was I the one who insisted on the prenup? Why didn’t I go through with the wedding when it would have given me unlimited access to her bank accounts?”
His answer comes quick. “Because Michael threatened to rat you out.”
Dammit. He’s got them all fooled. I hang my head, shaking it in disbelief.
“I’ve got news for you. Michael was the one who came to me with the con in the first place. We were working together. I’m the one that called it off. I fell in love with your daughter, and I cared too much about you to go through with it.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Believe what you want. It’s the truth.”
I trek out of his office cursing his stubbornness. For the first time in my life, I’m being one hundred percent honest with everyone and no one believes me! As I enter the elevator, my phone rings. I answer with a growl, “What?”
“Jeez, what the hell’s the matter with you?” Mike snips.
I press the button to head up to my floor. “I’m busy. What do you want?”
“I was just calling to tell you ‘you’re welcome.’”
“Welcome for what?”
“I started a nasty fight with Nyla this morning. You should have seen it. It was a doozy.” He laughs.
“What the hell did you do?”
“Let’s just say I’m sure she’ll be falling into your arms, telling you what an asshole I am. You should probably check on her. When I left, she was crawling around on the floor. I gotta go. I just got to the office. Get this done.”
I punch the control panel hitting the button for the lobby. I swear if he laid one finger on her …
Twenty minutes later I’m at Nyla’s townhouse banging on the door like a lunatic. “Nyla, it’s Memphis. Open up.” No answer. I bang louder. Inside I can hear Benji barking like crazy. “Nyla open this door right now or I swear I’ll break the damn thing down!”
Nothing.
I pull out my wallet and take out my miniature lock pick set. I’ve got the tension wrench in and I’m inserting the pick when the door swings open. Nyla scowls at me with Conner hanging off her hip. He smiles. “Hi Memfoos!”
“Hey there, my little monster.”
Nyla is less happy to see me. “Memphis, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I glance down at the lock pick set in my hand. “Oh … uh … I’ve been out here knocking for ten minutes and you didn’t answer. I got worried.”
“You’ve been out here for two minutes and the reason I didn’t answer was because I was getting in the shower. I had to throw my clothes back on and run downstairs because some maniac was trying to break into the house.”
The mention of the shower brings images of her naked body to mind and has my eyes dropping to her breasts. What can I say? I’m a guy. Her favorite oversized cardigan hangs open over a white tank top and sweatshorts. She’s not wearing a bra leaving her nipples free to peek through the material. My cock twitches at the thought of taking one in my mouth. Nyla catches me, knowing exactly what I’m thinking. I’ve never been able to keep my hands off her. Even on our daily elevator rides some part of me is always touching some part of her.
She rolls her eyes, drawing her cardigan closed. “Did you just come here to stare at my chest, or did you want something?”
“Can’t it be both?” I tease, but she’s not amused. I clear my throat. “Right. Sorry. I came to check on Conner. Emily said he had a fever, but he doesn’t feel warm,” I say pressing my hand to his forehead.
“I gave him some medicine. He’s feeling better. Thanks for coming by. We’ll see you tomorrow.” She starts to shut the door, but I catch it taking a step forward.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“Why would I invite you in?” She’s being a bit hostile and I’m not sure why. We’ve moved past this point. She’s still upset with me, of course, but I no longer feel the need to guard my ba
lls around her.
“Is everything alright? What happened to your hand?” I ask, noticing the bandage wrapped around it.
She tucks it in her pocket. “Nothing. I cut myself. It’s fine. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to go take a shower.”
“I don’t mind at all. I’ll be happy to sit with Conner while you do. Right after I take a look at your hand,” I reply, bullying my way inside.
“Memphis stop!”
“Nyla, what’s going on? I know Conner’s not sick. Why don’t you want me to come in?” As soon as I see the wall, I have my answer. It’s stained with streaks from where it’s been scrubbed. My eyes narrow and my nostrils flare. I storm into the kitchen and open the lid to the trash can. It’s filled with broken plates and glasses. “You want to tell me what the hell happened?”
“Nothing. Memphis, it’s okay. Michael and I had a fight. That’s all,” she assures me, placing Conner on the floor. “Baby take Benji and go play on your blanket.”
I pick out a piece of plate from the trash and hold it up. “This is okay?” I slam it back into the garbage, shattering it further. Conner startles; his eyes expanding to the size of saucers. I’ve scared him, and I feel like shit for it.
“Momma?” he calls out with concern.
“It’s okay, baby. Momma and Daddy are just talking.”
“Daddy?” he questions, making Nyla realize her error.
“Yes, Daddy,” I repeat, confusing him further.
“Memphis, not now. Please. He had a rough morning.”
I motion to the wall. “Yeah, I see that.”
She flashes me a dirty look and grabs the remote from the coffee table, flicking on the television. The distraction works. Conner settles in cuddling his Wally. Nyla strokes his head and kisses it. “Baby, you want some juice?”