Chapter 47
Remi
I begged for peace, but peace drew knives;
I bled for holy sin.
Now here I stand, a godless man,
Bleeding from within.
There was currently discourse online about me. I didn’t care, but Renshu did. Some other guys who made a lot of money did too. Amir had been on the phone for most of the day, arguing, then listening, then getting pissed off, then turning agreeable again.
Some people thought I was a villain. They were responding to other people who wanted to defend me. Everyone thought there was more information that needed to come out. So, they were digging. They couldn’t find my court records, of course, so it was all speculation. And speculate they did.
It was anyone’s guess why they cared so much.
They all needed to get a life, which I knew they wouldn’t do.
Most of them were influencers who ate up drama like gluttonous pigs and ‘reported’ on my life from their bedrooms with their stupid, tiny microphones.
I was willing to bet my entire fortune on most of them living with their parents.
In this economy, fair, but I was still going to shame them for it because they’d decided my life was their business.
At this point, I didn’t want to know what was going on, but I couldn’t avoid it. Renshu showed up and yapped for a while. I nodded along, and Amir kept his hand on me as often as he could. His grip tightened when the inevitable came up. Appearances. Explanations. Transparency.
I smiled, which they both took as agreement. Once their eyes were off of me, I dropped the act. I fled into my mind, unable to stand the way my life had become some bureaucratic team meeting.
Behold the clerks who stamp my fate,
Their pens as dull as the rules they create.
Influencers screech like caffeinated crows,
And somehow that’s the world we all know.
Great Algorithm, turn my life into a game;
Like vultures they’ll devour my rotting name.
It wasn’t until I heard the front door close that I returned to the present. Renshu was gone, which was a relief.
Amir got to his feet with a frustrated growl. I watched him drag his fingers through his hair and thought about doing it for him, but I stood and stuffed my hands into my pockets.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you’re tired of all these damn interviews.”
“It’s okay.”
“So, he wants us to speak when we’re in St. Louis on Friday. Dean can cover for you that day, right?”
“No.”
“Oh.” He frowned as he considered it. “I forgot he actually has a job. Oli?”
I shook my head. “There’s nobody to cover for me Friday.”
“Damn. We might have to consider hiring a bartender. I know it’s not ideal, but don’t worry, I’ll pick up whatever it costs. Or better yet, I’ll make Renshu create a budget for it. It’s the least these bastards could do if they want us at their beck and call.”
“I’m not hiring a bartender. It’s my bar, and it’s my responsibility to work it.”
The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. “I admire your work ethic, but you can’t be in two places at once.”
“I know.”
The meaning behind my words settled slowly, darkening his eyes. “Remi—”
The sliding door opened, and Mal came inside with a bunch of cars cradled in her arms. “Is Renshu gone?”
“Uh, yeah.” Amir managed to compose his expression and smiled at her. “We’re going to start dinner. Chicken and rice?”
She nodded enthusiastically. When she darted down the hall toward her room, Amir dragged me into the kitchen. I pulled my arm away and leaned against the counter.
“I’m not making any more appearances.” I kept my voice calm but firm so there’d be no room for argument.
“Alright,” he replied. “Renshu won’t be happy, but I’ll figure it out. It won’t be hard to tell the press that you can’t leave the bar unattended.”
“Amir—”
“It might make you look more responsible, actually.”
“I don’t care if I look responsible.”
“I know. I’m just thinking out loud.” He grabbed a few things from the fridge, and I watched him silently. “I can handle doing the interview. Besides, I don’t think it’s fair to expect you to answer questions about . . . that.”
“No questions about that. I want to be removed from the narrative entirely.”
The container fell from his hand as he turned around. It shattered, sending glass and rice in every direction. With a curse, I stepped over it. There were footsteps behind me, and I mentally prepared myself for what was about to happen.
“Amir, I don’t want to argue,” I said as I grabbed a broom from the laundry room.
“We don’t have to argue if you just explain yourself.”
I started to sweep up the mess, but he grabbed the broom from me. Running my fingers through my hair, I tried not to let the look in his eyes get to me. It always did, and that was why I’d wanted to avoid this, but Roman was right. So, here I was.
“It’s too much,” I explained softly. “I’ve tried. I really have, but this . . . this life isn’t something I can handle.”
“It’s not usually like this.”
“Except it is. Your divorce didn’t blow up, but it was reported on.”
“It’ll get better. I know I keep saying that,” he added before I could respond. “But I’m serious.”
“Okay, but it’s not what I want.”
His nostrils flared. “You don’t want this?”
“I can’t breathe, Amir. Every move we make is bait for them.”
“So what?”
“So I don’t want that,” I repeated more harshly. “I don’t want eyes on me. I don’t want to answer for my past, my present, or my future.”
He came closer and gripped my shoulders. “Then don’t answer. We can stop, okay? No appearances. We’ll lay low. If they have nothing to talk about, they’ll find the next interesting thing.”
I pushed away from him, taking a few steps to gain some distance. “It’s not only about when it’s bad. It’s when it’s good too.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If we go on vacation, they’ll know every detail. If you go to the World Series again, they’ll want to know how I feel about it. What if I don’t smile wide enough when you win? God forbid I want to fucking marry you. Everyone will be talking about it.”
His eyes widened, but I waved my hand dismissively.
“My point is that I don’t want to be seen.
I don’t want to feel like I’m walking on eggshells every second of my life.
” Looking into his dark eyes, I bit my lip to hide the way it trembled.
“Not anymore, Amir. I’ve never wanted to leave a legacy.
I want to pour drinks, write poetry, and fade into obscurity. ”
“We—”
“Don’t say we can figure it out.”
He shook his head, then lifted his chin. “What can I do, then?”
The question felt like a physical weight in my chest. “There’s nothing to do.”
“Remi.” He marched up to me again, this time taking both sides of my face in the way that always made me cave. “Don’t give up on this. I’m not giving up. Whatever it takes.”
It took everything I had, but I pulled his hands away. I could see it then—the truth settling in. He honest to god believed we could figure this out, but with every second, he could see the strength of my conviction.
I made it to the bedroom before he was on me again, just as I was grabbing my bag.
“Don’t walk out that door while I’m trying to fight for you,” he warned.
“Stop.”
“What if I don’t come after you this time?”
“Good.”
“Remi, I’m serious.” Moving to block my path, he touched my chest. “Please.”
“What’s there left to fight for, Amir?”
“You. Me. Us.”
I looked down at the floor. “Just let go.”
“I love you. Is that not enough for you?”
In a perfect world, it would’ve been. As I stared into his eyes, I thought I saw a flicker of hope, not just his but also mine. Faintly, I heard Mal talking in her room. Maybe to herself. Maybe to the cars. It tugged at my resolve, and despite how bad of an idea it was, I nodded.
The light returned to Amir’s eyes, and it made everything worse.
He took my bag from me and set it on the floor before he led me back to the kitchen where he got started on cleaning up the mess.
I grabbed the broom, wanting to do one good thing for him.
It was a pathetic attempt at amends, but I didn’t have anything else.
*****
I finished reading through the letter for the third time and forced myself to fold it in half. Any more times and I’d have to admit that I was stalling.
It was risky, but I leaned down to kiss Amir on the forehead. He let out a small groan and reached for my hand. “Where are you going?”
“For a cigarette. I’ll be back in a minute.”
The lie slid through my teeth too easily. Worse, he believed me. Within seconds, he was breathing evenly again.
My eyes stung as I took one last look.
I would topple dynasties for this man. All my life, I’d longed for the kind of love that made destruction seem sensible.
The thing I’d learned about love, though, was that there was value in not allowing it to destroy.
Losing it didn’t have to be a bitter or selfish thing.
Love could walk into my bar and light me up in a way I’d never known possible, and it could fade away, becoming a distant memory that still had the power to awaken my soul with a single thought.
Maybe I did still have one of those, after all. Whether I’d manage to hold onto it when this was gone was another matter entirely.
I closed the bedroom door and forced myself to put one foot in front of the other.
At one time, I’d left behind the only city I’d ever known, with only a backpack and a duffel.
I’d hitchhiked across two states and spent all the money I’d scrounged up over the years to get myself a barely livable apartment where the worst people in the whole state lived.
I dragged myself out of the gutter and made something of myself, against all odds.
And still, it had been easier than walking to Amir’s front door.
With my hand on the knob, I leaned my forehead against the wood. There was a physical ache inside me, as if I was severing some tether that wanted to keep me bound here. Such was the cost of freedom.
“Where are you going?”
I stopped breathing. I should have known better than to delay.
The words were shaped so much like Amir’s, but the voice was worlds different. It was sleepy and uncertain, enough to make my heart race.
I hadn’t prepared for this. It was cowardly and I intended to beat myself up for it later, but the plan had been to leave without saying goodbye.
Mal was only a step into the entryway, and in the low light, she was barely more than a silhouette.
“Little Valkyrie,” I sighed. When I moved closer, she backed up. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“You’re leaving.”
“I . . .” Realizing my bags gave me away, I dropped the act. “You should get back to bed. Everything’s alright.”
She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. “I heard you fighting earlier.”
“We weren’t fighting.”
“Mom and Dad weren’t fighting either.”
“Hell, kid. You really know how to play a guilt trip.”
She curled inward. I wanted to slip out, but then I heard her shaky breath. A small cry reached my ears before she spoke in a voice that cracked. “Why do you have to leave us?”
I closed the distance between us and dropped my bag. “Mal—”
“Dad!” she screamed.
I froze with my hand halfway to her. She latched onto it with a death grip, and I realized what she was doing.
“Mal, shh,” I pleaded.
“Dad, hurry!”
I yanked my arm back and grabbed my bag off the floor. She turned to run toward his room, so I decided it was now or never. I raced out the door, but something tugged at my chest and convinced me to stop, so I looked back.
I didn’t want him to keep fighting, so what was I waiting for?
A few minutes passed, but nobody came running.
With a nod, mostly to myself, I continued walking.
I passed the car and made my way down the street, thinking about that cot five miles away at Remi’s.
It was like an old friend, and I could only hope that by the time I made it there, I’d be exhausted enough to sleep.
Fat chance, really. I’d be lucky if I ever got a full night’s rest again.