by Shay Stone
“We’ll look into it. I leave for London this afternoon, but I’ll be back in a few days and I’ll have my people on it while I’m gone,” Max promises, and I believe him for whatever good it does me. He hesitates for a moment. “Why don’t you take the next few days off to regroup and see if you can come up with something concrete?”
I scoff, pressing my tongue against my cheek. It’s not hard to read between the lines. “You don’t want me around your business when no one’s there to keep an eye on me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, but that’s what you meant.” I take an aggressive step towards him. “Unbelievable! Do you have any idea how many times I could’ve … you know what? Forget it. I’ll figure something out on my own.”
“Memphis, come on man,” Colin calls after me, but I keep walking. That’s when it dawns on me; they brought me downstairs instead of back to Max’s office. They were planning on throwing me out the whole time. Some friends!
I exit the lobby and hail a taxi, instructing the driver to take me to Café Intermezzo, a place Nyla and I used to frequent. It feels like she’s slipping away from me, and I need to be somewhere that will make me feel close to her. The cabby is annoyingly chatty despite my one-word answers. I gaze out the window at the crowded streets, watching people race to get food before their lunch hours are over. I’m in a city surrounded by over eight million people, yet I don’t remember the last time I felt so alone.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, reminding me I shut the ringer off to avoid interruptions during my meeting with Edward. I pull it out, and Mason’s face pops up on the screen. He’s the one person I can always count on to believe me.
“Hey, Mase. What’s up?”
“Did you get my messages?” he asks with a frantic edge.
“No, I just got out of a meeting and haven’t had a chance to check them yet. Why? What’s going on?”
“It’s dad. He’s had another stroke. It’s bad Memphis. Really bad. I don’t know if he’s going to make it. You’ve got to get home now. I need you.”
I order the driver to head straight for the airport and task Mason with booking my flight online while I extricate information from him about my Dad’s condition. The poor kid is an absolute wreck. I stay on the phone, doing my best to calm him right up until the flight attendant makes us silence our cells.
The second I get off the plane, I dial Nyla. Not only because she loved my dad, but because I don’t want her thinking I’ve run off again. I’d give anything to have her here with me.
To my surprise, she answers, albeit with a hiss, “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Good. I’ll do all the talking.”
“Let me rephrase that. Whatever you’re going to say, I don’t want to hear.”
“Yes you do or you wouldn’t have answered the phone,” I challenge.
“That was my mistake. I’m hanging up now.”
“Dammit Nyla! Will you just listen to me? I called to tell you I had to leave.”
“Of course, you did,” she snorts. “You didn’t get the money you wanted, so now you’re on to the next con. Isn’t that how it works?
“It’s not like that. I’m coming back at some point.”
“When? Another three years? Dammit, Memphis! If you want to walk out on me that’s fine. It’s not like you haven’t done it before. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you traipse in and out of Conner’s life whenever you feel like it.”
“That’s not what I’m doing. If you would let me explain …”
“Why? So you can lie again? You can’t keep doing this to us. We’re not pawns you can use whenever you feel like. Just do us all a favor and this time stay gone.”
“You don’t mean that. Nyla? Nyla!” Goddammit, she hung up.
I call back, but I don’t even get voicemail. Instead, she answers and hangs up immediately to prevent me from leaving a message. Two more calls yield the same results. She wants to play games. Fine. I’ll play. And I’ll fucking win. I’ll keep calling all damn day until she hears me out.
My phone rings and I’m disappointed to see it’s Giovanni not Nyla. I send him to voicemail and step out of the airport, about to hit redial but come to a halt when I see Mason leaning against the car waiting for me. His teary eyes and drawn face tell me everything I need to know. I’m too late. My dad is gone.
FORTY-SEVEN
The grass bends, giving way beneath my feet and covering my shoes with dew. It feels disrespectful to be walking over the land like it’s nothing more than dirt and grass instead of the final resting place for people that were once loved. People like my dad.
It’s hard to believe he’s gone. I’m going to miss him more than I can put into words, but when he died, I felt relief. I know that’s not the sort of thing you’re supposed to say, but it’s the truth. My dad was a proud man, and he would have hated what he’d become. If he were here, I bet he would tell you he welcomed death, maybe even begged for it.
“So many people. Your dad sure was loved,” Cora remarks, waving an accordion fan in front of her face to combat the sticky Louisiana heat.
It was good of her to make the trip down on such short notice. She’s right about the people. If death was a popularity contest, my dad was winning. I look around at the crowd that has gathered wondering where the hell all these people came from and how they found out about my dad’s passing. But that’s the thing about small towns. No matter how hard you try to keep things quiet, information spreads like wildfire. A funeral was an event here. An excuse for people to put on their best dresses or suits and show up to mourn the loss of a man they shunned years ago, after my mom died.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as the preacher gives the eulogy, but it has nothing to do with his words. My eyes keep swinging around the graveyard. If I were Vito, I’d have paid someone to keep an eye out for me here. A hitman could easily blend in with the crowd. But this is where my mom is buried, and I promised my dad I wouldn’t let him spend eternity rotting in some random cemetery away from her. Now they’re together, literally and figuratively.
The minister concludes the ceremony, thanking everyone for coming and informs them we wish to grieve in private, and there will be no wake. The mob grumbles about the lack of invitation to gorge themselves at our expense, scattering like cockroaches when a light is flicked on.
“You want to head over to Bear’s before we drive back home? I’m craving one of their po’ boys,” Mason asks.
“Yeah, whatever you want Mase. As long as Cora’s okay with it. You guys go on ahead. I need a minute, okay?” I reply, glancing down at my phone. My heart skips a beat at the sight of Nyla’s name on the screen. After a slew of voicemails and messages, she’s finally calling me back.
“Hey angel. Thanks for call—”
“I can’t believe you had the balls to answer. I’m surprised you haven’t changed your number already,” she snarls.
The comment has me utterly confused. “Changed my number? Why would I do that? What are you talking about?”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about. Just tell me why.”
“Why what?”
“If you wanted to leave, why you couldn’t just leave? Why did you have to blow my world apart when you did?”
“Nyla, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” I need some clarity because she’s not providing me with any. I rack my brain trying to figure out why she’s so upset. In the messages I left, I told her my dad died. She has to understand that’s why I took off. There’s only one other reason to explain her mood. “Is this about the money?”
“No, it’s not about the money,” she growls. “It’s about you calling Michael this morning and telling him we’ve been sleeping together since you got back.”
“What?”
“He left me. We just had a huge fight. I guess it wasn’t bad enough you tried to swindle my dad and friends out of millions. No, you had to lie to my husband and ob
literate my marriage too!”
Shit. When I left the message for Mike telling him I had to leave, he must have thought I was bullshitting him and improvised. “Angel, I didn’t call him. Whatever Mike told you is a lie.”
“Sure it is. I just want to know why? What did I ever do to you to make you hate me so much?” The acid has left her tone and her voice cracks on a sob. “I was happy. We were moving on. Why did you have to come back and stir up all these feelings again? How could you do that to me and to Conner? He adores you. And then you just left. And now you’ve made Michael leave too. Do you have any idea how abandoned Conner is going to feel? What am I supposed to tell him? He’s just an innocent little boy.”
“Nyla, I swear I didn’t say anything to Mike, and I sure as hell didn’t leave you. Didn’t you get my messages?”
“What messages?”
“I left you at least a dozen. Mike must have erased them,” I mumble, blowing out a breath. “I’m in Louisiana. My dad died.”
She gasps. “What? Not Cal!”
“Yes, that’s why I’m here. We just had the funeral. But I’m coming back. I was always coming back. I promised I’d never leave you again and I meant it.”
“Memphis, I’m sorry. I didn’t know about your dad. I just assumed when you didn’t get the money …” She lets the words linger. There’s genuine regret and sadness in her voice. “I always loved your dad. He was such a sweet man.”
“And he loved you.” I watch a murder of crows land in a nearby oak tree, plugging my ear to block their raucous squawks. “I know there’s a lot going on, and I’ve given you enough reasons to doubt me, but everything I’ve done … everything I’m doing is to keep you and Conner safe. Michael’s not who he says he is. He’s been using you to get to me.”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the phone. “I’m so confused. I don’t know who or what to believe anymore,” she mutters, more to herself than to me.
“Come here. Grab Conner, get on the next plane, and come to me. We can spend time together away from everyone else. I’ll tell you everything.” I start towards the parking lot with my heart a flutter, praying she’ll say yes.
“Hey buddy, I think you dropped this,” a man’s deep voice calls out. As I whirl around, a hand seizes the back of my hair and the hard barrel of a gun is jabbed into my chest. Tony’s breath hits my face, reeking of garlic and coffee. “Always good to see you Drake. Stupid move coming back here. Thought you were smarter than that.”
A silencer muffles the sound of two rounds fired into my chest. The burning sensation of an orange-hot fire poker twisting into my flesh, sears through me. Blood spews from the wound, covering my hand, and turning my white shirt crimson. Tony smirks, his eyes swimming with satisfaction. “Vito wanted to hire a hitman, but I insisted on taking care of you myself.”
My knees buckle beneath me. I’m pushed backward into an open grave, smacking the ground hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. The taste of mineral hits my tongue as dirt is kicked on top of me. I spit it out, struggling to roll onto my side.
“Get up, dammit! You have to get up!” every fiber in me screams, but a cold ache spreads throughout my body. I can’t stop shaking. I’m cold. So very cold. Somewhere in the distance I can hear Nyla screaming down the phone line.
“I’m sorry, angel,” I whisper, knowing I’m about to go back on my promise to never leave her. Death sinks its teeth into me, demanding my blood and stealing my breath.
Everything goes black.
FORTY-EIGHT
Nyla. She’s here. Her fingers sift through my hair while my head rests in her lap on the grass beneath a cherry blossom tree in the park. Bits of sun filter through the flowers illuminating her from behind, convincing me she really is an angel.
“Memphis, can you hear me?” she asks. “You need to wake up now.”
Wake up? Silly angel. I am awake. I try to respond, but no sound comes out. I try to brush my fingers over her cheek, but I’m unable to lift my arm. Why can’t I move? My arms and legs are cocooned to my side. I fight to free them, searching for Nyla. She’s gone now and I’m alone.
“Come back!” My mind shouts, but the words refuse to leave my lips. My body feels heavy and light at the same time—like I’m drifting between two worlds and neither one of them wants me.
“He can’t die. He’s all I have left,” Mason’s cries echo in my ears, though I can’t see him. Who can’t die? Dad? He’s already dead.
“You’re not alone. You have Conner and me. But don’t worry. He’ll come back to us. He promised he’d never leave me again,” Nyla replies, instilling a sense of calm in me, though her words sound more like a plea than a declaration.
Thoughts I can’t make sense of jumble around my brain. Where am I? What happened? Focus dammit!
The cemetery. Dad’s funeral. Tony. “Always good to see you, Drake.” Gunshots. Nyla screaming. Falling. The taste of dirt filling my mouth. Oh my god! I’ve been buried alive!
I bolt up gasping for air, flinging the dirt off me. Only it’s not dirt; it’s blankets. Loud beeps din around me and the sudden glare of harsh light assaults my eyes.
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Calm down, honey. You’ll pop your stitches,” Cora says, pushing my shoulders, trying to get me to lie back. “Someone get a nurse! We need some Ativan in here!”
I cough and it hurts like a hell. Mason’s face comes into focus beside me, etched with concern. “Memphis, you’re okay. You need to breathe.” He repeats the words over and over until my coughing ceases and my mind chants with him.
Cora clasps her hands together, gazing up at the ceiling. “Praise Jesus! He’s awake.”
“Where am I?” I manage to croak out, my mouth sticking together like it’s been glued shut.
“You’re in a hospital. You were shot.”
Right. Tony. The pieces slowly slide together. Sudden panic grips me. “Oh no! He’s got her!”
“Who’s got her?”
“Tony! Nyla was with me when … I have to save her!” I tear at the myriad of wires I’m hooked to, ripping out my IV.
“Memphis calm down. Nyla’s fine,” Mason assures me.
“No! He’s gonna hurt her! I’ve gotta get out of here. She needs me.” I remember hearing her call out to me in the graveyard, but everything goes fuzzy after that.
Nyla races in from the hallway, handing Conner off to Mason. She envelopes my hand in hers and caresses my hair. “Memphis, it’s okay. I’m right here. I just went to get the nurse.”
Relief floods through me. I take in every inch of her, searching for signs that Tony roughed her up. “You’re okay? Tony didn’t hurt you? I swear I tried to get to you, angel—to protect you— but I couldn’t,” I admit with shame. An onslaught of tears I can’t control, stream down my face.
A nurse rushes into the room carrying a syringe. She fools with the machine, making those damn beeps stop. “I see our patient is awake. How are you feeling?” she asks, reinserting my IV.
“He’s very anxious,” Cora answers for me.
“And a little confused,” Mason adds.
“That’s to be expected. Especially with the meds we’ve got him on. This will help with the anxiety.” She shoots something into the tube and jots down a note on my chart. “The doctor will be in tomorrow morning to see you. There are some officers that are very eager to speak with you as well. I’ll be back later to check on you.”
Once the nurse has cleared the room, Nyla squeezes my hand. “I wasn’t at the cemetery with you. We were on the phone w-wh-hen ...” she stammers, swallowing her emotion. “… when you were shot.”
“It’s a good thing, too,” Mason adds sitting on the edge of the bed, “… or we might not have found you in time. She kept calling your phone. Cora and I found you, and she managed to keep you alive long enough for the paramedics to arrive and bring you here. Luckily, they were close by.”
Maybe it’s the drugs, but their words aren’t registering. I slide my palm against Nyla
’s cheek. “You’re sure Tony didn’t hurt you?”
“I’m sure.” Nyla smiles, resting her hand over mine.
“Memfoos, you okay?” Conner asks, tilting his head to the side.
I manage a teary grin, acutely aware how close I came to missing out on watching him grow up. “I’m okay, monster. I love you so much. All of you.”
Conner stretches out his arm, offering his Wally to me. “Don’t cry, Memfoos.”
I accept the stuffed toy, wishing I could hold my little boy. But my arms are too weak. I settle for a stroke of his head and am gifted with a smile that melts my heart. The effects of whatever drugs the nurse pumped into me hit hard and fast, making me struggle to stay awake. I turn to Nyla while I’m still coherent. “I know you’re crazy mad, but will you please lay with me.”
She looks to the nurse for approval. “Go ahead. Just be careful.”
With the utmost care, Nyla climbs onto the bed, mindful of the tubes and wires sticking out of me. I attempt to lift my arm, wincing from the pain. “No. Just lie still,” she instructs me, turning on her side and settling next to me.
She rests her cheek against my shoulder and links our hands together. “I’m not mad anymore. I mean, I am, and there are things we need to work through, but watching you lie in a hospital bed, fighting for your life put some things into perspective. You scared the hell out of me. I thought we were going to lose you.”
“I told you I’d never leave you again. Not even death could keep me from you,” I mutter, dropping a kiss to her forehead. My limbs feel detached from my body and my eyelids keep closing despite my continued efforts to keep them open. I want to keep talking just to hear her voice, but formulating a sentence is becoming harder. “You sure you’re not hurt? I’ll kill Tony if he laid a hand on you. Just as soon as I can feel my legs again.”
Mason laughs. “Well, if you had any doubts left about whether or not he loves you, now you know. The guy’s lying in a hospital bed with two holes in his chest, and his only thought is protecting you.”