Finally, I'd received the phone call I'd been waiting for. A small, local gallery wanted to display a few of my photographs-on a trial basis-but if they sold, it could work out to be something more permanent.
It was a beginning, a start for something real, and I couldn't wait to share it with Everly. I couldn't wait to share everything with Everly.
With my purchases in hand, I left a very happy bakery owner behind and headed for home. Everly would be reaching the end of her shift soon and I wanted to have everything just perfect before she got there.
Summer had arrived without much fanfare in San Francisco. The weather had warmed slightly and the fog had grown thicker, but other than the increase in tourism, not much had changed. It was what made California so desirable-the total lack of seasons. There was no snow to plow, no leaves to rake, and when summer came to the bay, people continued to wear t-shirts and jeans through August, as if nothing changed.
What kept me here, though, was the view-the never ending coastal views. I would have easily given up every penny I had if it weren't for the panoramic coastline that greeted me every single time I walked in my front door. I may have been a giant asshole back in the day, but I'd managed to get one thing right and that was this house.
Fumbling with packages and cake boxes, I made my way through the front door and set everything in the kitchen. Knowing I had time left before Everly got off work, I grabbed a beer and stepped out on the deck that overlooked the Pacific.
The waves crashed and unfurled below, and the salty spray of the ocean filled my lungs with a sense of peace I'd never thought I'd find. This house finally felt like a home to me. It finally felt like it belonged to me, rather than to a stranger.
Walking in here for the first time all those months ago was like stepping into a life I didn't want. How could I wake up with the same name and yet be so completely different?
I'd known from the first moment I saw her appear in my hospital room. I didn't want to be the August Kincaid she remembered, but I had no idea who I wanted to become, so somewhere in the middle I'd managed to find a common ground. I was still a work in progress, but so far, I was digging the life I'd discovered in the midst of it all.
"Remember when I helped you move in here, and we stood out here like fucking kings on a castle tower?" An unfamiliar voice shot through the crashing tide.
Fuck, I really needed to learn to lock the damn door.
My head whipped around to meet my intruder face to face. He was tall, well-built, with glaring brown eyes and a menacing sneer that might pass for a smile. His wavy black hair matched his tailored suit perfectly. He oozed money and sophistication, probably wearing more money in fashion on his body at the moment than most people made in a year.
I didn't say a thing, just kept my eyes trained on him. No need to give up all my cards at once.
"No greeting? No words of welcome for your old buddy and partner Trent?"
So this was the guy that had been blowing up my phone for the last several weeks. The troublemaker my attorney had mentioned. He was a persistent little shit.
"You called a few times," I said absently, baiting him for more information.
"Well, what the hell was I supposed to do, August? You're released from the hospital and never bother to call? For months? I have to find out from our fucking attorney that you're up and walking around. Do you know how that makes me look? How that makes us look?"
"I can't imagine."
Because, really-I honestly couldn't. But it was nice of him to visit me in the hospital. Oh wait …
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he roared, stepping into my space, his voice filled with venom and ire. "Do you think this is all some sick joke? You did seem to think the world revolved around you, didn't you? Well, let me tell you something, asshole-it doesn't. While you were taking an extended siesta, the rest of us were busting our fucking asses, and it's time you pay your dues."
Dues? Suddenly something clicked into place as memories and conversations aligned. Everly had once said I'd quit my job because of an old fraternity brother, although she'd never mentioned his name. She'd said that after I went to work for him, I was never the same.
No words of welcome for your old buddy and partner Trent?
Shit.
No matter how far I reached, it seemed the glaring truth of my past would always find me, no matter what I did with my new life.
"Look-Trent, is it?" I said, beginning the opening line to the speech I'd delivered time and time again to the elite crowd of lawyers and businessmen I'd associated with so long ago. Once they discovered the August of old was dead and buried, now hidden beneath layers of amnesia with little to no hope of being found, they usually moved on quickly. The new August, who spoke of photography instead of stock portfolios and who would rather hike instead of attend a gala function, was nowhere near their speed, and even though I had the money, I wasn't worth the time.
And I was just fine with that.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Trent lashed out, his words like talons directed solely at me.
"I don't know who you are, but if you let me explain myself, it might clear some things up," I said calmly, before proceeding. I told him everything.
Well, mostly everything. I told him the reader's digest version, including the mugging, my coma, and the resulting loss of memory.
"So you have no memory of anything?" he asked, seeming almost dumbfounded by the news. Almost.
"Nothing before that night; no."
"I'm sorry, man." His bent head shook, as if he felt pity for me.
"It's okay. You didn't-" I stopped myself as I watched his shoulders begin to shake. My mind couldn't process what my eyes were seeing until his gaze met mine and I heard it.
Laughter.
He was laughing. At my pain, at my suffering and all the loss I'd endured.
"You misunderstood, buddy. I wasn't apologizing for your misfortune. I was apologizing because things are about to get a hell of lot worse."
My expression hardened as my fists tightened. "How's that, buddy?" I asked, throwing the familiar term back in his face.
"See, you and I have a partnership. It's one of those things that works a lot like marriage-a ‘'til death do us part' type of thing-not that I've tried that particular thing out-too many fish in the sea and all. But I've heard it works the same way. And well, here's the thing. You're not dead."
I got up into his face, close enough to see the whites of his teeth as his cold, vicious smile reflected back at me. "In case you weren't listening, let me give you the abbreviated version so your little brain can comprehend it. I don't remember a goddamned thing about my former life, including but not limited to a so-called partnership with you. So forgive me if I'm not jumping up and down at the idea, but I think I'll decline."
"Jesus, you really are a total blank, aren't you?" he said, stepping back, his eyes wide with curiosity. "Amazing. For a second I thought you were just playing me, but there really is nothing of you left. Just nothing."
"Now do you understand?" I asked, glaring at him.
"Yes. I understand perfectly," he smiled widely, rubbing his hands together. "It's time to get to work."
"I'm not working for you!" I roared. The words exploded from my mouth like a cannon. "Now get the fuck out!"
He didn't budge. The asshat didn't move a single inch as his arms slowly slinked into the pockets of his thousand-dollar suit, and he began to swagger around the deck. I watched as he took the beer I'd opened before stepping out here, and slowly brought it to his own lips.
"You will work for me, and here's why," he casually said as he set the beer down on the rail. His voice was eerily calm, in vast contrast to the crashing tide below. "Before your little incident, turns out you owed me money. A lot of money, actually."
"I'll write you a check," I interjected, which only made him laugh harder.
"I don't think you're quite grasping the concept here. So let me dumb it down for you. You may think you're on the up and up because you have a few million stashed away in the bank. That's chump change to what we dealt with on a daily basis. Did you ever wonder why you could afford a place like this?"
I had actually, but like so many things in my past, I'd just let it go.
Obviously that had been a big mistake.
"The reason we could afford shit like this house you're standing in and the crazy huge yacht I own is because we never keep it in one place for a long period of time. We keep our money hidden, from the prying, investigating eyes of Big Brother. It works. Or at least it did until you decided to peace out for two years, leaving behind a huge debt and no one but me to clean up after you. And I hate messes."