Repentance: The Story of Kace Haywood

by Meghan Quinn

  “Gray?” I asked.

  Pepper grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “It’s the color of repentance. I don’t know what you’re searching for or trying to accomplish, but maybe someday you will be able to forgive yourself, Kace.”

  If she was looking to hammer a stake through my bleeding heart, she’d fucking nailed it on the head.

  Forgiveness was something you earned; it wasn’t granted to you. It took a strong person not only to forgive but to accept forgiveness. I would like to say I would be strong enough to accept Linda’s mercy, but I knew I was a weak, broken, and battered man. Her mercy wouldn’t be enough to set me free.

  Chapter Twenty

  My present…

  “Rough day?” Blane asked as he sat next to me.

  “You could say that,” I said, lifting my beer bottle to my lips.

  We sat off to the side as Diego practiced an act with one of the girl performers he’d just hired. Watching the whole thing made me realize Diego was nowhere near being ready for his club to open.

  Cirque du Diable had an appealing vintage circus feel to it with a touch of erotic flair. It was a novel concept I was excited about but nervous at the same time for the time constraints Diego was in, given how quickly he wanted to open the club.

  The main ring, where all the acts took place, was scattered with strong ribbons hanging from the ceiling as well as hoop apparatuses. The room circled in its shape while chairs and tables surrounded the edge. In the back were raised seats that mirrored the feel of stadium seating, and lifted highboy tables were strategically placed near the bar. Behind the main section of the club, themed rooms were available for couples to take advantage of.

  When I’d talked to Diego about his club during the early stages of construction, he’d told me he wanted to establish a safe haven for those living the same erotic lifestyle as him, a place where they could practice their craft, their love, and find solace. It was a great idea, he just needed to work out some kinks.

  “What was so rough about today?” Blane asked, leaning back in his chair and eyeing the new girl on stage. He was not very subtle when it came to the female form.

  “Nothing,” I said, trying to brush it off.

  “You know, we all have our problems, Kace. It’s how you handle them that defines you as a man.”

  “Are you saying I’m not a man?” I asked, growing defensive, remembering all the times my father had thrown those words at me.

  “Nope, just stating a fact.”

  “Seems like you’re trying to fucking instigate me.”

  “Is it working?” he asked with a shit-eating grin.

  “You’re a fuckwit, you know that?”

  “Yup,” he smiled. “Seriously though, if you ever want to talk….”

  “Got it, thanks,” I replied as the song playing over the loud speakers ended.

  Diego wiped his brow with his forearm. Privately, he made a comment to the girl. She nodded and took off toward the back, looking rejected. Diego stood in the middle of the ring with his hands on his hips and shaking his head.

  “Looks like you’re not the only one having a rough day,” Blane said while nodding at Diego.

  Defeated, Diego walked toward us but stopped off at the bar quickly to grab a handful of beers. He pulled a seat from another table set and sat in it backward while placing the beers on the table for all of us.

  “Fuck, she was terrible,” Diego huffed while knocking off the cap using the edge of the table.

  “Why did you hire her?” Blane asked. “I mean, killer fucking body, but she looks like a robot up there.”

  “Tell me about it. She said she was nervous with you guys watching.”

  “She realizes there will be an audience of more than two people, right?” Blane asked.

  “You hope there is.” I smirked over my beer.

  “There will be more than two people, jackass,” Diego countered. “When I interviewed her, she was confident and sexy as hell. She has an extensive dance background. Apparently she forgot to put brilliant liar on her resume as well.”

  “Did you can her?” Blane asked.

  “Nah, not yet. Figured I would give her one more shot.”

  “Didn’t know you were running a charity,” I said.

  Diego smirked at me. “Damn, who chewed on your dick and took off?”

  “Your mom,” I responded with a grin, swallowing a large gulp of beer.

  The floors in the hallway creaked, letting us know someone was approaching. In seconds, Jett appeared with a gorgeous Goldie at his side.

  The lucky fuck got to take her wherever he wanted, hold her when he pleased, and live his life with a sassy yet beautiful woman that would turn the head of any man.

  I’d had such a crush on her, “had” being the key word.

  Hell, she’d turned my world around the first time I held a conversation with her. I can still remember the day Jett came home to the Lafayette Club after a trip to the cemetery. He’d told me I needed to make room for another Jett Girl. There were already four. Adding another would have made things uneven, but he’d been adamant about it. I hadn’t understood, but I’d accommodated him and moved Francy to bartender permanently. It had actually worked out because she was more excited handing out drinks than dancing for the city elites.

  Jett’s constant need to add Goldie to the lineup had been confusing to me. I hadn’t understood the urgency, but then I’d met her in daylight, at a restaurant, and she’d flipped my entire world upside down. A little piece of me had hated Jett that day because he’d found her first.

  The only shred of hope I’d held on to was the fact that Goldie had to decide if she actually wanted to become a Jett Girl. If she’d decided against signing the contract, then she was fair game and there was no doubt in my mind that I would have gone after her, but she chose to sign, making her off limits.

  There were nights when I’d lain alone in my bed, praying she would come find me, come talk to me just so I could hear her sweet little voice ramble on about God knows what. But she chose a different man, a more dignified man.

  I knew she wasn’t meant for me, but at the time, I’d wished for once I had been able to hold something positive in my life.

  And then came Lyla.

  I’d thought I knew what it felt like to be knocked on my ass by a woman, but damn had I been wrong.

  Lyla had swept into my life and grabbed me by the motherfucking balls with a vise grip, never letting up. She still clutched them now, even from so far away.

  “How the hell did we get so lucky to have you grace us with your presence tonight?” Diego asked Jett.

  Goldie and Jett walked into the main room, holding hands and smiling brightly. Their love was sickening, and I was fucking green with envy.

  “I wanted to show Jett all the rooms I painted.”

  Goldie was a brilliant artist and had painted murals and designs on the walls to coincide with the theme of each room. I’d had the opportunity to look at some of her work and would be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed.

  Jett nodded in greeting. “How’s the hangover?”

  “Sitting pretty,” I responded with a tilt of my beer bottle. His jaw tensed when he saw the alcohol in my hand. “Don’t worry, Mom. It’s only a couple of beers.”

  “That’s cute,” Blane said. “That you call him Mom. Do you suckle his tit too?”

  “Watch it,” I warned, not really in the mood.

  “Blane, don’t you know you can’t joke with Kace?” Goldie chimed in, her arms crossed and looking pissed. I didn’t blame her. I’d wronged her best friend and was usually a dick to her.

  “Calm down, little one,” Jett cooed. “He’s having a rough day.”

  “When is he not?” Goldie rolled her eyes and took off down the hall.

  Jett gave me an apologetic look and went after Goldie.

  “Taming her has got to be a damn good time,” Diego said.

  “It’s not fucking easy,” I responded, knowing dam
n well how hard it was to wrangle her in.

  “How’s the community center?” Blane asked. “Is it open yet?”

  Honestly, I had no clue. It was supposed to be opening soon, but my alcohol-induced coma had left me currently unaware of where the community center stood. Nausea and dread continuously flowed through me, making my days uncomfortable.

  It wasn’t like me to skip out on my responsibilities, especially when I was in charge, but the dark abyss I slipped into after my night with Lyla was hard to climb out of. That combined with the fact that I had almost missed Madeline’s birthday had my stomach churning at an alarming rate.

  “Don’t know,” I answered.

  “Can I be honest with you, man?” Blane asked, looking serious.

  “Don’t stop now,” I encouraged.

  Rolling his eyes, Blane said, “Why are you letting your demons win? Why are you letting them run your life?”

  “Because I don’t deserve a life,” I replied, like the Debby fucking downer I was.

  “Fair enough.” Blane sipped his beer. “I don’t understand what happened, and I will probably never know your story, but damn, man, you have to at least give the people around you a chance to include you in their life. You’re a good guy, a fucking fun guy when your head isn’t shoved up your ass. If you want to grieve, be depressed about the hand you drew, by all means, go ahead and fucking grieve, but when you’re around your friends, people who care about you, just fucking lighten up for an hour or so, because damn, you’re disheartening to be around.”

  The motherfucker had a serious point, and I hated it.

  I nodded at Blane, drained the rest of my beer, and got out of my chair. “Sorry about killing your buzz, dude.”

  I walked away while both Diego and Blane called after me, but I ignored them. I wasn’t leaving because I‘d been told I was being a giant pussy. I left because what Blane said was so right.

  It hit me like a fucking sucker punch to the liver. The people in my life were important to me, and even though I was living a different kind of life than they were, that didn’t mean I had to be a dick to them. They weren’t the ones who’d fucked up. They were just the unfortunate souls who had to deal with my moody ass.

  Contemplating what Blane said, I walked down the hall toward my space. Jett and Goldie stepped out of one of the rooms.

  “Hey,” I said as they spotted me.

  “Where you off to?” Jett asked. Goldie stood next to him, avoiding eye contact with me, and acting defiant. I wouldn’t expect anything less from her.

  “Can I talk to you two in my room?”

  “Trying to cash in on that threesome now?” Goldie asked sarcastically.

  Grinding my teeth together so I didn’t make a smartass remark, I led us to my room, which was still destroyed from my drunken tirade.

  “I see you’ve tidied up,” Goldie said, kicking some of my clothes aside.

  I pulled the mattress from the floor and haphazardly placed it on the frame, then kicked it into place. It would do. I pointed to my bed and said, “Sit.”

  Jett was calm and cool, but Goldie was ready to start shooting shit from her mouth. I could see it in her eyes. She was gearing up for a fight. Her hands were sharpened and her claws were ready to strike.

  “I want to apologize.”

  “About time,” Goldie huffed. “You know, Kace, you can’t go around acting like an ass whenever you want just because of something that happened to you years ago. It’s bullshit. Hell, I lost my parents to Hurricane Katrina, and you don’t see me walking around with my dick shriveled up between my legs.”

  Jett placed his hand on her thigh. “Goldie, let him talk, and please, don’t ever refer to yourself as having a dick. The visual is too much.”

  “Is it because you know my dick would be bigger than yours?” Goldie asked, deadpan.

  “Even though I would like to hear how you figure you would have a bigger dick than me, I think we need to shelve that conversation and listen to Kace.”

  “It’s because I take my fish oil vitamins and you refuse to,” Goldie responded, not caring to acknowledge what Jett had suggested.

  “Yes, I’ve heard fish oil produces giant dicks,” Jett said with sarcasm as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we proceed?”

  “Say it. Say I have a bigger dick than you.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Jett said, exasperated. I smiled inwardly from the struggle. “You have a bigger dick, Goldie. Happy?”

  “I am,” she said with a bright smile. She then turned to me, crossed her legs, and gestured for me to proceed.

  “You sure you don’t want to talk about dick size anymore?” I asked.

  “Just get the fuck on with it,” Jett replied, frustrated as hell. Jett was a dominant man in every facet of his life, and to have such a strong-willed and stubborn woman at his side was comical for me to watch.

  A small smile made its way over my lips from seeing my best friend be topped by his girl.

  As I gathered my thoughts, they waited patiently for me to speak. I grabbed the back of my neck and looked at them, trying to find the words I wanted to say. Would it always be this hard to convey my emotions?

  Most likely.

  Taking a deep breath, I said, “I’m sorry for always being a jerk to you, Goldie. You have to understand, there was something I did in my past—”

  “The steroids? I don’t believe it,” Goldie interrupted me. “Jett’s actually been—”

  “Goldie,” Jett said sternly, shutting her up.

  “Jett’s been doing what?” I looked at my guilty best friend. Neither of them spoke. Jett avoided eye contact while Goldie bit her bottom lip, knowing full well she’d let the cat out of the bag.

  “What have you been doing?” I asked Jett.

  “He’s finding justice for you,” Goldie spat while slapping her hands together, as if she’d just told the best secret she’s ever heard.

  Irritation seethed through me.

  “Why can’t you stay the fuck out of my business, Jett? I told you, I don’t care about my boxing career. I don’t care what Jono did. It’s over and done with. Let’s move the fuck on.”

  “If that’s the case, then you need to move the fuck on from everything,” Jett countered, giving me a pointed stare.

  Taking a deep breath, I shook my head. “You know that’s something I can’t move on from.”

  “There’s something else?” Goldie asked while looking between the both of us. “Is this the reason why you are so distant with Lyla?”

  Throwing her a bone, I nodded. “Goldie, I want you to know I honor the friendship you’ve given me, but this is the one thing I can’t talk about with you, not because I don’t want to but just because I can’t. I’m not a good guy.”

  “It was one night,” Jett cut in. “One drunken mistake, and it wasn’t your fault.”

  Lost in the thoughts of that evening, I said, “I lost control.” I shook my head in disappointment. “I let him provoke me.”

  “Who?” Goldie asked, leaning forward.

  “Shit,” I muttered, having temporarily forgotten Goldie was there. “Goldie, can you please just accept my apology and not ask me again? I promise to make a better effort to be a friend when I’m around you guys, but I need you to not dig around in my past. Can you please do that? I just want to move forward.”

  It was a lie, but she didn’t need to know that.

  She took a moment to process what I was asking of her, but after some deep thought, she agreed and stood up. She walked right up to me and wrapped her arms around my waist. Behind her, Jett tensed from the intimate contact but then nodded at me as if granting me his blessing. I wrapped my arms around my best friend’s girl and, for a brief moment, reveled in the feel of her pressed against me. The distinctive aroma of vanilla and citrus floated into my nostrils as Goldie squeezed me tighter. Instinctively, I placed my cheek to the top of her head and squeezed her just as hard.

  I’d once confessed my love for
this woman. I’d once asked her why she’d chosen Jett. I’d once wished I was the one who got to hold her hand, but now, even though she stirred the slightest arousal inside of me, it was nothing compared to what Lyla did to me. Goldie had tilted my axis, but Lyla shook me to my fucking core.

  “I will always be by your side, Kace, rooting for you and praying that one day, you’re able to find peace with whatever is eating you alive.”

  “Thank you,” I replied, pulling away and walking to the door. “I’ve got to get out of here. I will see you guys around.”

  Before they could say anything else, I left the house. Breathing in the musky air of New Orleans, I took a walk to clear my mind. Starting tomorrow, I needed to get back on track, beginning with my responsibilities at Justice.

  Chapter Twenty One

  My past…

  This wasn’t where I wanted to be, waiting outside a restaurant for Goldie Bishop to arrive. Jett was adamant about making Goldie a Jett Girl, and I had no clue why.

  Well, that wasn’t true. I knew she had the basic requirements to be considered. She’d lost her parents, their business, and their home to Hurricane Katrina. She was thousands of dollars in debt, working at a shady strip club named Kitten’s Castle, and living paycheck to paycheck, barely making ends meet. There were a lot of women like her in New Orleans. What I didn’t get was why Jett was so transfixed on helping her. She wasn’t even his type.

  She was my type. Spunky, stubborn, and fucking fine.

  After seeing her at Kitten’s Castle, she’d buried herself inside my skin, and I itched to see her once again, but on my own terms, terms where I could claim her as mine, not recruit her for another man.

  I placed my foot against the pillar I was standing next to and rested my hands in my pockets. The hood that hid me from the outside world cushioned my place against the pole.

  Routine in my life offered me little chance to think about anything outside my little world. I appreciated the monotony of my daily activities. The girls knew their roles. They worked seamlessly with each other, so I didn’t understand why Jett wanted to disturb that peace. It was rare enough to see four women get along with zero drama. Adding a fifth into the mix was only asking for trouble.