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“Beau’s not the kind of woman that appreciates being told what to do.” James rips his eyes away from the beach and sets them on the glass of vodka the waiter just placed down.
“So why don’t you get yourself one?” I land the question like a bomb, taking another hit of nicotine and exhaling it over my glass. “Another woman, I mean.”
James turns his tumbler left, right, then picks it up and downs the lot. “Because it wouldn’t be Beau,” he says, turning a stoic face my way. “I know I’m talking to a man who hears me.”
I smile lightly, nodding mildly. “Loud and clear,” I muse, thoughtful. I’m looking at a man who’s walking in the shoes I once did. And it seems I’ll be walking in them again soon. Except this time, I have my reward already. If she doesn’t leave me.
“What’s the latest in Miami?” James asks, circling the conversation back to what we’re actually here for.
“I don’t know,” I flick my ash in the ashtray. “But I hear there’s a shitshow of epic proportions about to go down.” Part of me resents having to return. Another part of me, the sick motherfucker who’s been dormant for a few years, cannot wait to see the faces of many men when they learn I’ve been resurrected.
“Tell me something,” he says, watching his glass as the waiter tops him up again. I wait silently for him to go on. “Do you want to come back to life?”
I smile. “If my wife asks, no.”
“Your wife isn’t asking. I am.”
“It never leaves you,” I say, leaning forward. “You think you’re going to kill your enemies and disappear off into the sunset and set up a life with Beau?” I huff, relaxing back, taking another drag of my cigarette. “There’s always someone who’ll want to exact their revenge. Someone who’ll want you dead. I’m living proof, and I’m supposed to be dead and fucking gone from this world.” Brad was right. He once told me that you don’t walk away from this life. You can’t. “Spittle tried to kill my best friend. My cousin. He did that for a reason, and we both know what that reason is.” I give him a dark smile. “I’m not the kind of man to wait around for the danger to find me.” I’ll find it. And kill it.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I cock my head, looking down at the beach. I can’t see Rose. But I always see her. “It’s going to be messy,” I say, not telling him anything he doesn’t already know. Besides, I’ve seen him kill a man. Neither of us do things by halves, but there will be plenty of men to get through before we find who we need.
“I know nothing else,” James says, tipping his drink to his lips.
“I never did extend my condolences.”
“For what?” he asks, as I catch his jaw starting to pulse. “The massacre of my family? My baby? Or the attempted murder of my fiancée?”
“All of it.”
“I don’t want condolences.” He sneers into his glass. “I want retribution.”
I like this man more and more, and I am not the type of man to like a man. Only very few have ever had the honor of my approval. But James? He’s understatedly immoral. And he’s enamored by a fucked-up woman.
It reminds me of someone I used to know.
Still know.
“You haven’t had kids.” James looks up at me, and my drink falters at my lips.
“No.” It’s time to show him something of who Rose and I were. Who we might be again soon. “Rose was planted on me by an old enemy. Blackmailed to do everything he demanded, or her son would be killed. Probably her too.”
“She has a kid?”
“When she was fifteen after being repeatedly raped by any man who desired her.” My stomach turns, churning up the anger that lays sleeping in the pit of my stomach. “She had a boy. It was a rough birth.” I shrug, like it’s nothing, when it’s every fucked-up thing. “She can’t carry anymore.”
“You saved her,” James says with absolutely no emotion.
I fix my stare on him. “We saved each other. Sound familiar?”
He smiles, though it’s mild. “And the kid?”
“I found him. He’s thirteen now. Lives with his parents in Miami. He visits.”
“And they’re okay with that?”
“They don’t have much choice. They bought the kid on the black market. They’re lucky to be alive.”
“I was talking about you. They’re okay with him spending time with you?”
“They don’t know who I am. I’m Daniel’s biological mother’s husband, who she met after moving to St Lucia.”
“So what does he call you?”
“Mister.” I smile, and I know it’s fond. Daniel’s a good kid. Smart, polite, accepting. I only wish I could give Rose more of him, but we’re real. His parents are all he’s ever known. His education is important. So is stability. Hilary and Derek give him that.
