Ash sat on a stool in the almost empty bar and took a chug of his beer after downing a shot of tequila. He tapped the bar to get the bartender to bring him another when he heard Sledge’s voice:

“That bad, huh?”

Ash snorted. “Worse.”

“Was the funeral at least fit for a king?” The bartender sat the tequila in front of Ash, and Sledge said, “I’ll have the same.”

“It was, but of course Allison was not going to settle for anything less. Dad would have hated it.”

Before Ash’s mother died tragically in a car accident when he was ten years old, they had lived in a modest three-bedroom house in a respectable but middle-class neighborhood. His dad drove a nice car and Ash and his mom had everything they wanted or needed...but there was no grand excess, because that was the way his dad liked it. It was only after he met Allison that she insisted they move onto the family estate. There were three houses on the estate. At that time, Ash’s grandparents had lived in the main house and the other two houses stood empty. They moved into the largest of the two and Allison hired a full staff. When his grandfather passed away and his grandmother had to be put in a home, maybe more because of Allison’s prodding than anything else, Ash was fifteen and Charlie just a toddler. That was when Allison insisted once again that they needed more room and they moved into the main house...the mansion. Allison took to being the lady of the manor as if she’d never worn a green apron and made a double soy latte in her life. Ash’s dad hated it all...but he loved his family, even Allison, although Ash never understood that, so he sucked it up and did whatever she told him was best.

“Of course he would have,” Sledge said, picking up the tequila shot the bartender sat down in front of him. He held it up toward Ash and said, “But he wouldn’t have complained. To the King of Manhattan, may he rest in peace.”

Ash held his up and said, “Hear, hear,” and they both downed the drinks. Sledge sat down his glass, took a drink of his beer, and said:

“So, were all of my archenemies present?”

“Front and center,” Ash said. “And the evil vibes were as strong as ever. You want to know something sad?”

“No.”

“I’m going to tell you anyway. My little sister has mutated into one of the evils. She stares at her phone like it’s the oxygen she needs to live. She’s dressed head to toe in designer names. Her hair is highlighted, and her makeup looks professional...she didn’t smile, she didn’t cry...the only emotions present were annoyance and indifference...even for me.”

“Damn. I’m sorry, brother, I know that has to hurt.”

“She hates me.”

“I doubt that. She’s just had too much Allison in her life.”

“Which makes me even more convinced that she hates me. But...would you like to know what the pièce de résistance of the day was?” Ash suddenly remembered why he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He pulled at the tie until the perfect knot loosened enough so that he could unravel the thing and unbutton the top button of his shirt...and finally take a full breath.

“I’d probably rather not know,” Sledge said, “but hit me with it anyways.”

“Mack showed up.”

“Fuck me! Are you serious? How much fucking nerve does that bitch have?” Sledge and Mack used to be as close as he and Ash...but the day she left Ash standing in front of an already judgmental audience of three hundred, Sledge was done. He had a good heart, but he’d learned to protect it at a young age...and he’d only give you one chance. If you screwed it up...he was done.

“She says she tried to reach me...after.”

“To say what? ‘Sorry I didn’t show up? Sorry I didn’t send a text, make a phone call or leave a fucking note?’ Her stepsister told you she wasn’t coming. No explanation other than that she’d taken off for Aruba the night before with her new boss. She still fucking the old man?” Ash didn’t see the shudder that ripped through him coming or he would have tried to suppress it. The beer mug in his hand jerked and beer sloshed on the bar. Sledge, bless his heart, acted like he didn’t notice.

“I didn’t give her a chance to tell me what she planned on saying,” he said. “I texted you, called an Uber, and got the hell out of there. I’m ready to get on my bike and ride the fuck out of here.”

Ash wished so badly that the sight of Mack hadn’t stirred up all the old feelings he thought he’d left behind years ago...but it had. Seeing her looking just as beautiful as ever, taking his breath away the way she had since they were kids, letting those round blue eyes pierce his soul the way they had forever...it all pissed him off. She was still curvy in all the right places and his mind...his hands...and especially his dick all wanted to call up the memories of feeling those curves pressed up against him. He’d lusted for her like no other woman in his life...but most of all, he’d loved her. He would have done anything for her, and he would have never, ever left her. All of the years since that day, he thought that he hated her, and he’d learned to live with that. He had a good life and he’d proved he didn’t need her, his family money, or any of the fake, plastic things his life had been filled with before. But seeing her today reminded him that as much as he wanted to, he could hate that life. He could hate what Mack did to him. But he couldn’t hate her. Worse yet, he was sure that he still loved her after everything, and that was the worst part of all. It made him feel like a big, stupid pussy and the only saving grace was that he was the only one that could feel what she still did to his heart, and even to his soul.

“Charlie? Honey, are you okay?” Mackenzie had looked for the little girl in the big reception room where the wake was being held, but she’d gotten caught up in the throngs of the Manhattan social set for over an hour before she finally found an escape. She had sneaked into the kitchen to hide and that’s where she had found Charlotte, tucked into a corner of the window seat that overlooked the five-acre gardens behind the main house. She had pulled her knees up to her chest on the bench and made herself so small that the white curtains almost hid her. Her pretty face was stained with tears and mascara ran down her cheeks.

Charlie looked up as Mack got closer and groaned. “Please just go away.”

“I’m worried about you, Charlie. I know how close you were to your dad. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Charlie’s pretty blue eyes were swollen and shot through with red. Whatever she tried to say next came out as a pitiful sob, and Mack’s heart felt like it might break. Sitting down next to Charlie, she took the small teen into her arms and held her, letting her cry and smear makeup across her designer blouse. They sat there like that for a long time with Sarah, the kitchen maid, sweetly leaving two cups of tea and a plate of Charlie’s favorite ladyfingers in the middle of the table in front of them and then sneaking away without saying a word. When Charlie was finally able to stop crying, she lifted her head and looked at Mack again. Mack pulled a small pack of tissues out of her pocket. She’d gone through half the pack herself earlier—shamefully, almost as many over Asher IV as she had the deceased.

Charlie used the tissue to clean her face and further smear the makeup that her young face hadn’t needed anyway, and then with her swollen eyes narrowed she said:

“Did you see him?”

Mackenzie didn’t have to ask who “him” was.

“Yeah,” Mack said, “I saw him. Did you two talk?”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “He talked...said a bunch of stupid things about me growing up. What did he think I was going to do, stay ten years old forever?”

Mack smiled sadly. “He was probably nervous and didn’t know what to say...”

“Why are you defending him? Oh, never mind, I know. It’s as much your fault that he left as it is his.”

Mack felt like she’d been punched in the stomach, but Charlie was almost right. It wasn’t as much her fault...it was all her fault. “I’m defending him because it was my fault, and I don’t want to see you continue to not have a relationship with your brother because of it.”

“He didn’t have to leave. By leaving, he just proved that he cared more about you than he did us. My dad died with a broken heart because of him.”

Mack opened her mouth, and then closed it. Asher III didn’t lose his son because Ash left. He had plenty of money and time to visit any time he wanted to...but because he allowed Allison to control his life and his decisions, he never did. Mack didn’t know if Asher tried to keep in touch with his dad, but she knew how much his father meant to him, so she believed in her heart that he had. She knew badmouthing Charlie’s mother wasn’t going to help the situation, however. Instead she said, “I’m sure that Ash is heartbroken over that. Charlie, I really believe you two need each other now, more than ever.”

“Fuck that. Fuck him!”

“Charlie!”

“Just go away, Mack. I know Dad forgave you for what you did to our family, but one thing Ash and I still agree on is that what you did was unforgivable. Dad was weak...I’m not.”

“Oh, Charlie! Your father was one of the most prominent businessmen of his time. He was a genius and he took the family’s company to places no one ever thought it would go...” Mack should know, she was one of his executives. She and Asher III had gotten close over the past five years, and she knew it practically killed him to not see his son. He and Ash communicated regularly, but whenever his son invited him out for a visit, he always used work as an excuse. Mack knew differently only because Asher III confided in her that Allison had given him an ultimatum, and since he’d made the mistake of not making her sign a prenup, she threatened to leave him and take everything he’d worked for his entire life if he didn’t cut off his “thug” of a son, as she called him. She was worried about the family’s reputation if anyone found out that Ash had gone off to California to join up with his old friend Sledge’s motorcycle club, and Mack knew also that Allison had always resented Ash and his close relationship with his father. Mack knew as well that Allison had urged Asher III to cut Ash out of his will, but she had no idea if he’d done that or not before he died. She doubted that Ash would care if he had. Money had never been important to him.

“Are you hearing impaired?” Charlie looked like she was finished crying, and now she was just angry. “Go the fuck away!”

Mack didn’t want to leave her. She knew that Allison would be busy with the house full of people the rest of the evening, and even when she wasn’t busy, Mack knew Allison wasn’t the warmest of mothers. It was from her that Charlie had gotten the idea that her father was weak in the first place. Mack got up, but she went over to the industrial-sized refrigerator and took a sticky note and sharpie from the magnetic note pad. She wrote her number on it and handed it to Charlie. “Please call me if you need anything, Charlie, okay?”

The girl looked at the paper Mack was holding out for a long time. Finally, she took it out of Mack’s hand and without taking her eyes off Mack’s face she said, “My name is Charlotte, and I won’t need you for anything.” She ripped the paper in half and let it fall in front of her on the table and then she turned her back to Mack.

Feeling sick to her stomach, Mack left. She felt like she was abandoning the girl, and honestly if she knew how to get in touch with Ash, she would call him. Charlie was the one that was going to be hurt the worst over Asher III’s death...but Mack had no idea what to do for her.