Chapter 14
NICK
I’m back on the patio, but my brain is banging against my skull.
Pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead doesn’t stop the painful visions of my past or the traitorous ones of my present.
I’m dreading the future, ‘cause I don’t think I can take much more of this shit.
I eye the bottle of bourbon, but before I can reach for it, a dark, ominous cloud hovers over the pool.
When it circles closer, I suck in a deep breath, but I’m sure as shit not ready for what materializes. The black cloud takes the form of The Grim Reaper, scythe and all.
“Come with me.” He holds out his bony fingers, and I hesitate. When he lifts his head, I’m faced with the hollowed eyes of a skeleton.
“Don’t be afraid. I am not an agent of death, or a force of evil, but a light into your future.”
“I don’t wanna know my future.”
“But you must if you intend on straightening out the present.”
“So, you’re the Ghost of Christmas Future?”
“I prefer The Grim Reaper, an unbiased guide into the unavoidable destiny that awaits you. The sickle is a tool used at harvest time, signifying the passage of time—the cycle of life and death.”
The Grim Reaper waves his bony arm forward. “You have nothing to fear, except the truth.”
A fierce wind sweeps his cloak around his skeletal body, and the black cloud surrounds us.
When the ebony fog clears, I’m back in Graham Pierce’s foyer.
“Why are we here?” I ask, but the Grim Reaper only nods.
The same scene plays out. A lavish party, men in tuxes, women in gowns, passed champagne and the bright lights of holiday decorations. Graham is in the same circle of men until he breaks away from them, passes us in the foyer and enters another room off the side of the circular staircase.
The Grim Reaper prods me forward until we’re in the same room.
Graham comes up behind a woman, grabs her arm, and roughly spins her around.
“Shit!” I mumble.
Cheryl’s drawn, lined face is filled with fear. My beautiful, vibrant woman is pale, weak and thin, way too thin.
“I told you I wanted you by my side tonight,” Graham growls in her face. “Is that too much to ask of my wife?”
“His wife?” I shout.
She tries to break away from him. “Please don’t make me.”
“People have been asking about you all night, and I’m tired of making excuses, so get out there and be a proper hostess, or you know what will happen.”
“No, no, not that.”
“Then you better do as you’re told because you know the consequences.”
“What the hell are the consequences?”
The Grim Reaper lowers his head.
Cheryl inches her way toward the bar along the wall, and Graham steps in her way. “No liquor. Tonight I’d like you sober for a change.”
Cheryl bites her lower lip. “You can’t tell me what to do,” she murmurs.
“I can and I will, or everyone will find out you’re a murderer. With the reliable information I’ve collected, you’ll go to jail for life, and that brat of yours will end up in the system. Is that what you want? To have her life end up as miserable as yours?”
Her eyes widen. “No, no, I’ll do as you say.” She rests her hand on a pendant around her neck.
“I told you I don’t want you wearing that thing.” Graham snatches the necklace, rips it from Cheryl’s neck and pitches it across the room.
It lands at my feet, but I can’t take my eyes off Cheryl on her knees sobbing.
“Pull yourself together, and get out here and help me entertain our guests.” Graham storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
“Let me go to her,” I plead. “Let me help her.”
The Grim Reaper puts his hand on my shoulder, and I’m unable to move. I’m forced to watch Cheryl’s agony, helpless and unable to rescue her from this hell.
After another few torturous minutes, Cheryl gathers herself together, wipes at her eyes, and heads for the door.
“I’m here, baby,” I shout, but of course she can’t hear me.
As she walks past me, I see the bruises lining her arms and the dark circles under her eyes. I gaze down at my feet and pick up the necklace Graham flung across the room.
“Shit,” I whisper. It’s the diamond heart necklace I bought Cheryl for Christmas.
“Why?” I ask the apparition. “How did she end up with him?” I search the hollowed eyes of the Grim Reaper. He lifts his cloak, and a black cloud surrounds me, whispering the answer.
“Because your indifference made her vulnerable, leaving her wide open to Graham’s blackmail and fraudulent ways.
She fell deeper and deeper into depression, then into his clutches, not realizing until it was too late that his words were lies.
That he only wanted her and her business as another trophy on his shelf. ”
“She was wearing the necklace I bought her for Christmas.”
“Because she never forgot you.”
“I can’t leave her like this, I have to . . .”
The Grim Reaper shakes his head, gathers his cloak around both of us, and another dismal fog catapults us further into my future.
When the air clears, a vision of myself appears, sitting at a table in the back of an empty, seedy bar. The constant flashing of a red strobe light tightens my gut. The place is slightly familiar, but the air stinks of stale beer, sweat and piss.
“Where are we?” I ask.
The Grim Reaper points to a burnt-out neon sign on the back wall.
Club Wicked.
“No,” I shout. “This can’t be true.”
The Grim Reaper nods, and I’m forced to watch the scene in front of me.
My dead eyes stare at the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels I’m gripping. My clothes are wrinkled and dirty, but I don’t seem to care. I unscrew the cap, slosh the amber liquor into a glass, and down it.
A woman approaches me in a too-small bikini top and a G-string, teetering on five-inch stilettos. She’s stick-thin with huge tits and bleached-out blonde hair, framing a face lined with despair. She joins me at the table, leans in and whispers something in my ear.
I give her a knowing look, reach into my pocket, and pull out a glassine bag filled with fine white powder. I waste no time chopping it up with a razor blade, then hoovering it up two lines at a time.
“What the fuck?” The woman pushes at my shoulder. “Leave some for me.”
She snorts the other two lines, wipes at her nose, then runs her bony hand up my thigh. “Why don’t you and me have a party before this dump opens?”
I stare at her through slitted, bloodshot eyes.
She throws her shoulders back, making her enormous tits sway in the skimpy top. “I’m the best you’re gonna get, baby.”
“Fuck you,” I slur.
“No, baby, fuck you, or did you forget?” She unsteadily waves her hand around the room. “This is all you are now. A fucking bouncer in a beat-to-shit strip club on the ass end of town.”
“What the fuck happened?” I ask, but the Grim Reaper only points to the scene in front of me.
The blonde snuggles closer to me. “Samson got tired of your shit and left you years ago. They found your buddy Jax in a shallow grave out in the desert. Your wife left you for that big-shot promoter, Graham Pierce, and that kid of yours doesn’t even talk to you anymore.”
An ice pick pierces my heart at the mention of Cheryl and Portia.
“This shit-hole is perfect for two losers like you and me, ‘cause ain’t nobody coming in here unless they’re worse off than us.
” She throws her head back and cackles at her own joke, then pours herself a shot and downs it.
“Gotta get fuckin’ wasted just to work here, but don’t you worry, I’m gonna fuck my brains out in the champagne room later, then give you all your precious money.
” She curls her lip. “‘Cause money is all you got left, but that’s all you care about anyway, right?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl.
“Too bad all that money hasn’t been much help. No wife, no kid. Just you in this sad fuckin’ life, wasting it all on blow and booze.”
“Don’t talk about my family.”
“What fuckin’ family?” She cackles again. “I’m all you got now, so why don’t we do a few more lines, then hit the shitter and get our freak on before the asshole customers start showing up?” She offers up her grotesque tits. “I’ll even let you snort some of the good shit off my tits.”
She’s right, I got nothing. I push out of my chair, grip the table for support, then head to the back of the club.
I bang through the men’s room door, and she follows me, then hops up on the counter and spreads her legs. “C’mon, what are you waiting for?”
I move between her legs, catching my reflection in the mirror over the counter. The same sunken eyes, same sallow complexion, and fuck-you attitude.
I jump back.
“What the fuck is the matter with you?” she asks.
I point to the mirror. “It’s him.”
“Who?”
My heart ricochets against my ribs, and I can’t catch my breath. “My father.”
“Get me outta here.” I turn away from the image and face the Grim Reaper. “This can’t be happening. Please, I’ll do anything you say to make this better.”
The Grim Reaper fades into the background.
“Don’t leave.” I reach out to him. “Not until you tell me what to do.”
A gust of wind swirls around me, and he’s gone.
“Help me. Don’t leave me here. I don’t know what to do,” I mumble into the darkness. “I don’t know what to do.”
I shift, then startle awake and almost fall off the couch. I’m panting, air sawing in and out of my lungs. My skin is clammy. Anxiety and dread grip my insides. When I’m able to focus, I see the sun peeking over the mountains in the distance.
I still have a chance. All I have to do is tell Cheryl how much she means to me. Tell Portia how sorry I am that I let her down.
I can do this. I can make everything different. I can make everything right.
I jump off the couch, whip open the sliding glass door and enter the empty kitchen. I go from room to room on the first floor, but there’s no one. I check my watch. It’s late morning. Cheryl and Portia are always up by now. My heart bangs against my ribcage, fear twisting my gut.
I race up the staircase and barge into Portia’s room. She’s sleeping peacefully, and my body relaxes. I pull the covers over her, and when I lean in and kiss her forehead, she disappears. I yank back the sheets, and the bed is empty. I search the room, but I’m alone.
I stumble down the hallway to my bedroom, then sit on the edge of the bed and watch Cheryl sleeping. Soft, easy breaths expand and contract her chest. I rest my hand on her shoulder, and she vanishes into thin air.
Just like Portia. They’ve evaporated under my touch.
I check our bathroom—empty—then fling open the closet door. My side of the closet is stuffed with clothing, but Cheryl’s side is empty, with only a few hangers dangling from the rack.
I pull open the drawers—empty. Her side of the double bathroom—empty.
I’m too late. Everything the ghosts warned me about came true. I’m alone, and there’s nothing I can do about it because it’s all my fault. I made it happen.
I have no one to blame but myself.
I stagger back down the stairs, check the rooms again, then stand in the center of my empty foyer, my empty house. Everything I’ve worked for—everything I thought was important—gone.
My heart pounds hard. Nothing makes sense without my family—Cheryl and Portia. The room spins at a dizzying speed. I reach out to the wall for balance, but there’s nothing to hold on to, nothing to ground me. Just a deep, dark, swirling whirlpool of regrets.