THIRTY-ONE
Two Years Later
SCHEDULED TO OPEN IN UNDER A MONTH, I stood staring up at my nightclub’s building and its unique architecture, taking a minute to grasp what I had accomplished in the past eight months.
Construction inside was nearing an end; all employees had been hired, thanks to Vick, and I’d finally chosen a head chef and bar manager.
Vick handled all my employee communication. She had become my right hand in all things since the night I had found her selling her ass on the streets, and honestly, I couldn’t imagine the club opening and running smoothly without her.
I would never tell her that, though.
So much had changed in my life over the past three years, and finally taking it all in left me feeling proud of what I was able to create.
It was more than what I built—more than the money I had managed to triple—it was the changes in myself. I was no longer lost—no longer visibly broken. I was no longer a nothing.
I was molded and changed thanks to my past and thanks to Clive. The power I held was addicting, and I held strong to it—making myself someone—making myself irreplaceable to a lot of people.
There wasn’t a soul in the city who didn’t seek my respect, and that kind of power was raw and inviting … consuming. I instilled fear in the hearts of people, making sure no one ever tried to mark me, and so the name Black spread, and Sebastian Stephens ceased to exist.
“What are you doing standing out here?” Vick asked, coming up behind me.
She had changed as well. Becoming colder and stronger—only allowing me inside her brain—she broke the bones and hearts of many a man.
“I’m admiring the sign.”
She stood next to me, her shoulder bumping into mine. “It looks good.”
“Yes, it does.” I shoved my hands in the pockets of my expensive suit.
It had been cut specifically for me as were all my clothes.
“Clive’s is going to be the hottest club in the city, just you wait.”
Her words were true.
I would make it so.
“I have no doubt.”
And I didn’t.
Clive’s, the club I was opening, was much more than my accomplishment. It was Clive’s dream, his legacy. If it weren’t for him, I would have nothing … be nothing. I would make the club a success if it was the last thing I did.
“Are you coming in any time soon?” Vick asked.
“No. I have something to do first.”
“Are you going to tell me what that is?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so. I’ll see you later, then?”
I nodded, rocking back on the heels of my expensive leather shoes.
“Yes. Make sure to send that envelope to David’s office, okay?”
“You never said what’s in it.”
“And I don’t plan to. Send it,” I demanded.
“Whatever you want, boss.”
“I’ll be back. Have Martin bring the car around?”
“Will do.”
“One more thing … make sure the movers deliver those boxes from the old apartment to here. All except the one box marked office stuff can go into the new apartment.”
“I’ll send them over there now. They’ll be here by the time you get back.”
And then she was gone, her heeled boots clicking into the night.
Minutes later, Martin pulled the car in front of me and got out to open my door. I disappeared behind the tinted windows and watched the city go by as he drove to my destination.
Thirty minutes later, we were across the city in another time, another life. We pulled through the gates of the cemetery and alongside the grave I hadn’t visited in a long time. The guilt never fully went away, but I could keep it under control when I paid my respects.
Getting out of the car, I made my way toward their headstone. They were side by side, together in life as well as in death. Wilted flowers dotted the top of their plot, and judging by their state of decay, I knew it had been a while since she had been there, too.
Thinking about her—about them, the children I had left orphaned—tugged at the knot in the pit of my stomach that I knew would forever grow and fester.
I didn’t show emotion anymore, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there, tucked just behind the beating organ that metaphorically felt all things.
Kneeling, I plucked the dead flowers from the grass and set them down next to my feet. The fresh wildflowers I had brought with me fell from my fingers and filled the metal vase at the base of their headstone.
Visiting them always reminded me I would never fully be rid of my past sins. No matter how much success I had or how big Clive’s would become, I could never really be completely happy.
I didn’t deserve it.
Their daughter and son would never know happiness because of me. It was only fair, since I had made my bed all those years ago, that destroying their family would haunt me until I died.
Being around Vick only stirred those feelings. I wasn’t even sure being around her was something I would be able to do and still look at myself in the mirror the next day, but seeing her and what had become of her, I knew I couldn’t turn my back on her.
Part of me felt like if I could save her … I could save them. As idiotic as it sounded.
Vick was my responsibility now. As long as I kept my eye on her, she could never hurt anyone again. As long as I knew where she was and what she was into, I was keeping her and everyone in her path safe.
If her hands were clean, then so were mine.
Just because there was no fixing me didn’t mean I couldn’t at least try to fix her.
I stared long and hard at the graves, knowing it would be the last time I would come and visit for a long while. She was getting older, and the risk of running into her was too great. I would have no way to explain why I was there or how I knew her parents. Part of me wondered if I would be able to hold in the truth about what I had done if I ever did see her and look her in the eyes.
Thankfully, I had only seen her from afar.
I turned when I heard the vehicles approaching behind me. My heart gave a hard pound against my chest, but I could breathe easy when I realized it was a procession for another funeral. Car after car passed, blocking me in as they made their way to say their final goodbye to their loved one.
It would be a while before I was able to get out of there, but that was fine. I had one more stop.
I walked across the cemetery until I was standing in front of Clive’s grave. I hadn’t been to see him in a while, but I knew he wouldn’t be upset with me. It was with good reason.
“It’s almost finished, Clive,” I said, kneeling over his marble headstone. “I think you’d like it.” I smirked. “No, I think you’d love it. It’s … our legacy, old man.”
Once the procession cleared, I went back to the car and gave Martin directions.
The club.
When I arrived, the box I had been waiting for was in my office perched on top of my desk. Pulling it open, I sifted through to make sure everything was there. Pulling out a stack of folders, I watched as two things fell from the pile. One landed on my desk, the other at my feet.
Picking up the piece of paper on my desk, I recognized a date scribbled on the back in Clive’s handwriting. Flipping it around, I stared down at the picture. It was old and worn, the corners bent and torn. Faded lines splintered out, distorting the picture some but not enough that I couldn’t make it out.
Clive stood in front of Mike’s with a smile plastered on his face. By the looks of the place, Mike’s had just opened. Seeing this picture was bittersweet, knowing that Mike’s was no more. I had sold it to a lady who planned on turning the place into a yoga studio. A place like that wouldn’t do well in that kind of neighborhood, but a sale was a sale.
Bending over, I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and put the picture inside. Shutting the drawer, I saw my little black book on the floor. A smile tugged at my lips as I bent to pick it up. Sitting in my chair, I flipped through the pages. I had only begun to fill it before Clive got sick.
A light tap sounded on my door before the door opened and Vick walked in. She sat on the other side of my desk.
“I see you got the box.”
“Yes, I did.”
She leaned forward in the chair, and her brows pulled together as she eyed my fingers.
“What the hell is that?”
“My little black book,” I said simply.
“Your little black what?”
I flipped the book across the desk, and it slid before she caught it. She opened it to the first page, and her eyes moved over the words. She flipped through the empty pages before stopping on the last one. She stared at the name I knew was written there before closing it and tossing it back at me.
“So it’s a fuck book?”
I smirked. “More or less.”
“Cartoon characters? Isn’t that a little childish?”
I shrugged. “It’s my thing. Fuck off.”
“So who’s Jessica Rabbit?”
I stared at her for a moment before getting up and standing in front of the window that looked down over my new nightclub.
“I don’t know yet, but maybe someday I’ll find her. Until then, I think it’s time I start filling up the rest of those pages.”
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