Chapter 44

Ryan

There were no two ways about it. I was just plain pissed. I couldn’t believe my past was out for every to see, to judge, and make a media circus over. My life had gone from good to bad to good and then down in the pits and all because of people in my life who I couldn’t trust worth a damn. What was this guy getting out of telling my story? Two seconds of fame? No one gave a shit about him, nor would they ever remember his name after the whole thing blew over, but they would always remember my past. I’d worked so hard for so long to move beyond the past. I had done everything I could to build a life that was focused on the positives, helping people, helping communities, and doing the right thing. I had spent too long doing the wrong thing, and that was what I had dug deep to bury, but here it was again, on display for the entire world to see. It was fucking ludicrous, and it was even crazier that I had to go up in front of the world and defend myself for what I had done when I was a child, a kid barely understanding or grasping how big the world really was. I had to apologize because my past made people uncomfortable.

This was not the way I’d planned to spend my week. All I had wanted was to be with Sara, to relax, to grow our relationship and move forward into the future, putting all the crap we had gone through behind us. I wanted to take time for myself and for her, rebuilding the trust that I had lost and letting her know how much I cared about her. I didn’t want to be traveling the news circuit talking about shit that wasn’t even relevant to my life right now. Sure, it was where I had come from, but that didn’t define me as a person. When was the media going to write that story? The story of the rags to riches guy, the one who gave to charity, started a nonprofit, built a solar grid to help everyone? The hard truth was that they never would, and I would be stuck there spending my week talking to journalists.

I had spent a lot of time and thought planning a small getaway for Sara and me. I was going to take her to the Hamptons for a beach getaway, something that would trump the vineyard and really allow us some private time to ourselves. The Hamptons were notorious for keeping the journalists at bay, and I had even hired private security to be there to chase them off if they did find us. But no, that was not going to be my week. I was going to spend my time toadying up to morning show hosts, answering questions about a life I had desperately tried to forget. On top of my childhood, I had to address again all the accusations that Natasha had made against me.

I was out there admitting I had been a criminal when I was younger, that I had done things and seen things that were highly illegal. Then, as an adult, I was branded with allegations saying I was working with the Russians. If I was admitting to being a criminal in the past, why would people not think I was still working with criminals in the present? Of course, it was beyond their petty little minds to recognize that people actually do change and learn from their mistakes. It was basically the worst nightmare I could imagine. It was my whole life, or at least the juicy parts, being strewn out to the public, and me having to face them head-on. While other people with a past like mine only had to own up to the people they loved, I had to own up to the entire world, and all because I owned a business and had a lot of money. It was complete bullshit, and it was also a complete ratings scheme. No one was going to drop this story because everyone wanted to hear more and more about it. It was the new hot ticket in every media’s outlet, and I was the center of that circus.

When I was done with the last show for that day, I went out and pushed past a bunch of reporters to get to the SUV parked and waiting for me. I asked the driver to take a drive around the city so I could think. The truth was, I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to face Sara and see that look of pity on her face, to know that she knew the darkest things about me and know there was a good chance those things would never really leave her mind. I would always be the good guy who used to be a criminal. Everyone would always question what kind of a man I really was and all because of my past. Sara knew everything about my past now. There were no more secrets to be had.

She knew how poor I was, how we didn’t have money for food, or how we would huddle together at night to stay warm in the winter. She knew about all of the petty crimes I committed, trying to steal some bread to give to my sisters or peddled some days on the street corner for a few bucks to keep the lights on in the house. She knew how I’d kicked people’s asses for money that was owed to gangs, that I carried a gun around in case the situation arose, and that I was a mule, running drugs and weapons all over the city. She knew everything, and the latest admission, which had happened earlier that day, was that when I got my driver’s license and was old enough to drive, the gang had me shuttling prostitutes to and from gigs for extra cash. I was their protector, the guy who waited while they sucked dick for cash and then threw them back in the car and took them to their pimp. I watched women shoot up in the back seat, knowing they were pregnant, just trying to get through another day. I watched men beat the hell out of their Janes because they didn’t make enough cash whoring themselves out, and I did it all for the dollar, for the money I could take home to my mother.

It was my secret shame, the things in my life I couldn’t get out of my head, and I could no longer hide. I had been a disgusting human being for half my life, and Sara was way too good for me. She was too wholesome, too moral to be with any guy who would have done things like the things I had done when I was younger. It didn’t matter how much I had changed my life around or how much money was in my bank account, Sara deserved much better than me. Sara deserved a good man who had been good his whole life, who had always been kind-hearted like she was.

I had the driver drive around the city for hours, just trying to stay away from the drama and hell for a little bit longer. I didn’t know what to say to Sara or how to react to her. I didn’t know how to tell her she deserved someone much better than me to walk through life with her. I didn’t even know how to look her in the eyes anymore. By the time the sun had gone down, though, I knew I needed to get home. I couldn’t just drive around the city for the rest of my life. I would need to face the music eventually. When I walked in the house, Sara was sitting up in the living room, waiting for me to get home. I put my bag down and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a beer and taking in a deep breath. When I walked back out, she was headed toward me.

“How was your day?” she said. “I thought you would be home earlier since you were doing the morning circuit.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes telling everyone you’re a piece of shit takes all day,” I mumbled angrily, pushing past her into the living room and sitting down on the couch.

I stared straight ahead, feeling her looking at me from above. I knew I was being short, I knew it, but I couldn’t help it, not on that day. Sara had done nothing wrong, but there was no way she could begin to understand she was with the wrong guy. Finally, I looked up at her and watched as her face crumpled right in front of me. Instantly, I felt bad for being an asshole, which, in turn, kicked up that guilt that made me remember Sara deserved someone much better than me. I resented that fact, that I couldn’t be the man I needed to be, one Sara deserved to have. All of my choices from the past were coming back and biting me in the ass and hard. I felt resentful toward everything in my life, no matter what it was, and that was a terrible combination when you were around the people you cared about. It was a situation that could easily backfire, and it sure the hell was about to.

I was supposed to be comfortable coming into my own home and saying whatever I wanted to. It was my safe space, something I had been away from all day, saying exactly what my PR rep wanted me to say to the news. I had to apologize for who I was when I was younger, and to a bunch of fucking people who had nothing to do with it. Now, I couldn’t even come home and speak my mind. Instead, I was being made to feel guilty for doing it, and I didn’t know how to respond to that. I was in a foul mood, I could feel it, and it was just escalating from there. I got even more snarky, feeling I had the right to push people away.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“For what?” she asked crossing her arms over her chest.

“For inviting you to stay with a fucking criminal who beats up junkies and launders money for Russian oligarchs,” I responded. “For being a piece of shit human being. You apparently might have fared better back in Bonanza with Janson, or so the media is making me look worse than him.”

I sat there shaking my head and staring at my face on the evening news. The anger boiled over me, and I picked up the remote and threw it against the window, watching it smash onto the ground. I growled, rubbing my hands through my hair. I looked up at Sara, but she didn’t say a word, just stood there looking at me, a single tear rolling down her cheek. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand seeing her upset and knowing I was the one who made it happen. I was an asshole to her, and I did it without a second thought. I got up from the couch and stomped off down the hall to my room, slamming the door behind me. I shut myself away from Sara and the world, feeling ashamed for everything.

I was ashamed of my past, of the things I did to protect my family. I was ashamed of the man I was turning into. And most of all, I was ashamed of the way I had treated the woman who I cared about more than anyone. I didn’t deserve her or the life I had built for myself.