Not Clive.
Not the murders.
Not Vick.
Not Jane.
And not Deloris.
I wanted to forget it all.
Drink until the entire world around me went numb.
By the time I finished the first bottle, the world around me was fuzzy. And halfway through the second, I went numb. I couldn’t feel a damn thing, and a sad sense of relief came with that numbness. Once I was no longer able to feel my arms and legs, I climbed on top of the bar and laid back.
I took short, shallow breaths as I stared up at the ceiling and let my mind drift away. It wasn’t long until the liquor lulled me to sleep, and I welcomed the unconsciousness with open arms.
A loud pounding on the door of the bar woke me. I wasn’t sure how long I had slept, but when I moved to sit up, pain shot down my stiff spine. My headache roared, pounding through my brain with each obnoxious knock.
“Go away!” I yelled out.
Magically, the knocking stopped, but the pounding in my brain remained.
Bringing my legs over the bar top, I slid off the bar and fell on weak knees. My fingers twisted in my dark hair as I latched on to my head and prayed for the pounding to stop. Running my palms over my face, I felt wetness on my cheeks.
I frowned as I looked at the ceiling, thinking maybe there was a leak somewhere. But then I remembered, and the pain came back hard and fierce.
I looked at myself in the large mirror behind the bar. My eyes were red and puffy, my tears making a sloppy trail down the side of my face. A broken sob ripped from my lips when I closed my eyes and saw Clive lying lifeless on his floor once again.
It would never go away.
The nightmares would haunt me for the rest of my life.
My buzz was long gone, replaced by a rage that seemed to fill out the blackness within me. There were so many emotions; no matter how hard I tried to shut them off, the only one I felt comfortable settling on was the anger I felt at knowing I would never see Clive again.
It was as if a part of me had died with every person who exited my life, and Clive had taken the last piece. I felt so fucking dead inside.
There really was no point in trying anymore. Giving up was the only thing I knew how to do. After years of surviving and losing, I was done.
No more.
I no longer wanted to exist.
My eyes landed on the bar top, and a box of matches with the bar name printed on the top caught my attention. Without a second thought, I lifted the bottle I had been drinking from earlier and tilted it, letting the brown liquid splatter onto the floor around my feet.
Once the bottle was empty, I dropped it, the bottle shattering into hundreds of pieces all around my shoes. Grabbing the box of matches, I pushed it open and pulled out a single match. I struck on the side of the box and watched as the flame danced on the tip, mocking me with the bleak future I always knew I would have until finally, I snapped.
I dropped the match, and the flames grew all around me.
I was done.
I was already in hell.
Might as well burn.
TWENTY-NINE
I SHIFTED ON THE COT IN MY JAIL CELL for the millionth time, but no matter what position I was in, I still felt fucking lousy. I’d been sitting in the jail for the past five days, and I hadn’t even seen a judge yet.
They arrested me and threw me behind bars. The only other person I saw was the guard who brought me three meals a day.
No one came.
And I knew no one would.
I had nobody to call, and even if there was, I wouldn’t have called them anyway.
The jail wasn’t exactly where I wanted to be the past few nights, but oddly, I felt comforted by the bars surrounding me. I was still so angry about losing Clive, and I knew I couldn’t be trusted on the streets alone.
Not only had I almost drunk myself into a coma, but I had also lit the only real home I had ever known on fire and then passed out. I still didn’t know if the building survived, but suddenly, it mattered so much that it was still there—that all of Clive’s life was still in our apartment. I needed something to hold. I wanted something from him even if I lost the only home I had ever known to someone else.
The way I saw it, jail was the best place for me until I figured things out and got myself under control. I only wished I knew when I would be getting out and exactly how much damage I did to Mike’s and the apartment above it.
Keys jingled in the distance, and I tilted my head to see the guard coming my way. He wasn’t holding his usual tray, and considering it was lunchtime, I was curious as to why.
Sitting up, I threw my legs over the side of the cot and ran my fingers through the knots in my hair.
“Good news, Stephens,” he said, making me cringe at the last name I no longer used. “Looks like you’re finally getting out of here.”
I stood and walked over to the bars.
“Not possible,” I muttered.
I had been sitting in jail for five days twiddling my thumbs without so much as a peep from anyone. That was because there was no one.
“Hey, all I know is your paperwork is being drawn up, and your release is scheduled for noon.”
He didn’t say anything else as he walked back to his post, and forty-five minutes later, he was back to release me. I stepped out of the cell and in front of him, and he followed me.
“Someone’s here for you,” he said, his deep voice echoing against the cinderblock walls.
I frowned. “Who?”
“He said his name is David Spencer.”
“What does he want?”
Curiosity was getting the best of me. Where I came from when someone wanted to talk to you or see you it was for a bad reason.
“I don’t screen people, kid. It’s not in my job description.”
“Don’t call me kid,” I snapped, snatching the plastic bag with my belongings as we reached the front.
I had never met David Spencer in my life, but it wasn’t hard to figure out who he was. When I walked into the lobby area, he was the first person to smile at me. As I walked toward him, he set his briefcase down and held his hand out for me to shake. I shook it, eyeing him as he smiled at me apologetically.
“Mr. Stephens,” he said, shaking my hand.
I hated that fucking name.
“Sebastian,” I muttered, hoping he would never call me Mr. Stephens again.
“Sorry. Sebastian,” he corrected himself. “I’m David Spencer. I was very good friends with Clive, as well as his lawyer. Do you have a minute to speak with me?”
I nodded.
It wasn’t like I had any other place to be, and rushing back to the bar wasn’t something I was looking forward to.
“Why don’t we sit over here?” he said, leading me to a bench next to the entrance of the police station.
“First, I want to say how terribly sorry I was to hear of Clive’s passing. I imagine it’s been very hard for you. Losing a father is a very hard blow.”
I nodded again. I didn’t really know how to respond to that. Obviously, he was the lawyer who dealt with our adoption. Otherwise, he would have never called Clive my father. Not to mention, I could feel the raw emotion climbing its way up my throat and begging me to release a painful sob.
“Yes. So let’s get to business, shall we?” Reaching over, he grabbed his briefcase and popped it open. “A couple of months ago, Clive came to see me and asked me to draw up a new will to include you.”
I frowned.
“I don’t understand. Clive never mentioned you or said anything about a will.”
“I’m not surprised. That sounds like him. He asked that I draw up a new will to state that when he passed, everything went to you.”
Shock shook me, making me feel as though the world took a big spin.
“What?”
He chuckled. “I know it’s a lot to take in right now, but Clive left everything he owned to you, Sebastian.”
> Where did the air go?
Suddenly, there didn’t seem to be enough air to fill my lungs.
I bent over, sucking in as much oxygen as I could as once again the world spun on its axis a little too fast for my tastes.
“The bar, the money, and the building he owns in the city… it’s all yours now.”
A crushed feeling filled my chest. I should have been happy to hear that I had so much handed down to me, but nothing, not even money and the bar, could take away the ache of missing Clive.
“Why didn’t he tell me any of this?” I asked, knowing David Spencer probably wouldn’t have the answer to that question either.
“Maybe he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. You know Clive. He didn’t like making a fuss over things.”
A grin tugged at the side of my mouth even though the pain of his loss was still so fresh.
David was right.
Clive hated making a fuss over things.
“But it is a big deal,” I blurted, anger moving back in. “It’s a big fucking deal. How could he leave everything he owned to me? How could he leave …” I couldn’t finish my sentence.
The words choked me as the real reason for my anger threatened to suffocate me once more.
I missed Clive.
“I’m really sorry, Sebastian. I know this is hard on you.”
“What if I don’t want it? What if I don’t want any of it?”
I expected him to look surprised, but he didn’t. Instead, he just smiled.
“Clive suspected you might respond that way. So he told me to give you this. He also had some very colorful responses to that question, but I’ll refrain from repeating those.”
As he spoke, he reached into his briefcase and pulled out a white envelope. On the front was my name, and I recognized Clive’s twisted handwriting. I took the envelope from him, my fingers feeling numb.
“Why don’t you read that and then stop by my office later this afternoon.”
He handed me his business card and then took a deep breath as he stood.
Before he got very far, I called him back.
“Why was I released? What happened to the charges?”
He shook his head, a blazing white smile on his face.
“They were dropped.”
“Dropped?” I could hardly believe my ears. “But why?”
He shrugged.
“The bar’s in your name now. Technically, there can’t be any charges against you.”
I didn’t respond.
I didn’t have a response.
“I’ll see you this afternoon, Sebastian. Take it all in.”
And as I left the police station with my belongings and an envelope from Clive, I planned to do just that.
FOUR HOURS LATER, I found myself outside the office of Spencer, Walters, and Associates. I stood outside the building, staring up at the massive construction. I hadn’t been to this particular part of the city in a long time.
Inside, I let the guy at the front desk know who I was there to see, and he sent me up to the tenth floor. The elevator doors opened to a snazzy reception space with a smiling redhead behind the front desk.
After telling her who I was there to see, I sat in the waiting area until David came out.
“Sebastian,” he said as he made his way into the waiting area. “I’m glad you came. I had my doubts that you would show, but Clive assured me you would.”
I snorted. “Clive thought he knew everything.”
David laughed. “That he did. Follow me.”
I followed him to his office, which was larger than the reception space I had waited in and took a seat in one of the two chairs across from his desk.
He plucked a folder from his desk and began pulling out papers. Spreading them out, he lay them down in front of me.
“I just need to get your signature on these, and everything will be finalized.”
I took the pen when he handed it to me then paused above the paperwork, not even sure of what I was reading.
“Can you walk me through everything?” I asked.
“Of course.” He leaned forward until he could see the documents in front of me.
He pushed one set toward me. “This first set of documents is your taking ownership of the bar. Take your time and read through it. Then I’ll just need you to initial and sign the last two pages.”
I nodded and leaned over the document in front of me. My eyes scanned the words, but I didn’t actually read them. I probably wouldn’t have understood them anyway.
All I needed to know was that Clive trusted the guy, and if Clive did, then so did I.
Flipping to the last few pages, I initialed and signed where he had indicated. I hated signing the name Stephens on the line, but I knew it was something I had to do since legally Sebastian Stephens was my name.
When I was done, I pushed the document back to him and waited for him to go over the others.
“These last three are all stock and bonds, bank accounts, and the building in the city. It’s a nice place but a little run down. Could use some love, if you asked me.”
I scanned the pages, barely listening to what he was saying.
“So if I sign these?”
“Well, once you sign, it all belongs to you. The property, the money, everything of Clive’s would now be yours.”
“His legacy,” I whispered with a smile.
“I believe that’s what he called it. So yes … his legacy would be yours.”
I initialed and signed where David instructed, and then he left the room to make copies of everything. When he returned, he handed me a folder with my copies of the documents I had signed. I hesitated when he offered the folder because this was the final moment. Taking the folders meant I was accepting Clive’s legacy, which in my mind felt like I was accepting his death.
I wasn’t.
But he was gone, and I was all alone once again. Clive had kept so many of my demons away by keeping me busy with work and life. He made me realize the bad things I had done all those years ago weren’t my legacy. He made me realize I had much more to offer, but with him leaving me so suddenly, I was reminded once again how evil and cruel the world was.
THIRTY
One Year Later
THE PAST YEAR OF MY LIFE SEEMED TO FLY BY IN A BLUR. I closed Mike’s, since it was nothing without Clive, but lived in his apartment. I ate mostly ramen since I didn’t have a job and still slept on the couch even though Clive’s perfectly good bed was just a few steps away.
I couldn’t do it, though.
I had issues even going in the room, much less sleeping there. Instead, I closed the door, hoping the memories of finding him dead on the floor would stay locked behind the door, as well.
I drank way more than I should have, considering I had a supply room downstairs full of liquor. And when I felt like the loneliness would eat me alive, I left and walked the streets, letting the cold air sting my skin until I went numb again.
I was on one of my lonely strolls when I ran into someone I never thought I would see again. I had reached the end of the curb when my ankle buckled in my drunken stumble down the darkened sidewalk.
I fell into the wall, hitting my shoulder against the brick building that caught me. A cloud of beer-tainted breath hissed between my teeth. My shoulder felt like it was on fire, but the alcohol running through my system quickly dulled the pain. I would be feeling the pain when morning came.
Pushing against the bricks, I flipped around until my back was against the wall. The cold air burned my lungs when I sucked in a deep breath as I tried my best to stop the world from spinning. Closing my eyes, I took a few more deep breaths, mentally preparing myself to move again.
Normally, I would be smart and drink at the bar, but I couldn’t stand to be in that place. Not when it was officially the one-year anniversary of Clive’s death. For the entire day, I sat alone and dwelled over the date as the walls of the place closed in on me, making me feel like I was suffocating.
/>
Being in that place alone left me feeling raw and angry. I felt rage for everything I had lost in the past year of my life. I was falling apart, and even though I knew it was wrong to feel that way, I felt like it was all Clive’s fault.
So many times over the past year, I wished I had never crawled through the window of Clive’s bar. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be feeling the pain I felt. I was alone and broken inside before I met Clive, and I had accepted that life.
When he came into my life, he had slowly put the pieces of me back together. But when he died, I came apart in ways I hadn’t known was possible. Of all the losses in my life, Clive’s left the biggest scar.
I stayed wasted, hoping to numb myself from everything. Hating Clive felt wrong, but I couldn’t help it. I hated him for leaving me. I was angry with him for not getting better like he promised he would—for leaving me his legacy, knowing I would screw it up and never fulfill it.
He set me up to fail and didn’t even have the decency to stick around and watch me destroy my life.
That was what I did.
Destroyed things.
I was sure I ruined my birth parents before I was even born. I blew through every foster family I ever had like a category four hurricane, including the one where I fell in love with Jane.
I devastated a family I had never met, leaving two kids orphaned, and for what?
For a fucking TV and hope that maybe, just maybe, I could show Vick all about Jessica Rabbit and my sick, fucked-up fascination with cartoons.
Clive had been wrong to think I could do anything with his long-forgotten future.
I was fucked up in the worst of ways, and the type of stupidity I was cursed with had no cure.
Rage moved through me, making my bones feel broken and my skin bruised. I pushed away from the wall in search of more liquor, needing not to feel. I hadn’t gotten two steps when I heard a noise in the dark alleyway at my side.
Everything was fuzzy, including my hearing, so I wasn’t sure exactly what I was listening to. I stopped and tried to focus on the sounds.
“I said get the fuck off!” The angry words were cut short, and there was another muffled sound.
Little Black Box Set Page 63