Page 69 of Bourbon Kingdom
“This is your fault,” Leo spat at me.
“How is this my fault?” I asked. “I do believe the Ponzi scheme was your idea, the embezzlement was your grand plan, and the club was the pinnacle of your scheme to get back at your son, your own son!” I roared. “I should have stayed as far away from you as possible.”
“Too late for ‘should ofs,’ son,” Leo said with a menacing tone.
I got up from the booth and adjusted my suit jacket. I looked Leo square in the eyes and said, “Don’t ever call me ‘son,’ you sadistic bastard.”
With one last glance, I retreated from Leo and went back to my place. It was time to face my Creator. There was only one way out of this life, and hell if I was going to rot in prison for the next hundred years.
I was a lost man; it was about time I found where I was supposed to be, in fucking hell.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Jealous”
JETT
A lone trumpet played in the far distance as I sipped my café au lait and observed the many tourists lining up to get a taste of Café du Monde’s beignets. It’d been a long time since I’d been down to the quarter for my Saturday ritual. Things have been hectic, to say the least, and I wasn’t about to visit the Quarter while I was still with Goldie if she couldn’t come with me.
Goldie.
My heart still ached from the thought of her. It took me a couple of phone calls, but I was able to track her down. I should have known she would have gone to stay with Diego; they’d had a close connection ever since she’d gone to help him paint his club. I just prayed she wasn’t working there with him as well. She had plenty of money from being a Jett Girl to keep her afloat. I wondered if she’d used any of it. I was tempted to look at the bank account I set up for her, but knew that was an invasion of privacy, and the last thing I wanted was to piss her off more.
She was mad. Really mad. I didn’t blame her. She was right about everything she said. I didn’t trust her, I didn’t believe in her, and I had zero faith. I didn’t blame her for leaving; I deserved it. I was a master at pushing people away, and I’d done a damn fine job of kicking her out of my life.
But I was over and done with that now. I knew what I wanted. I wanted a life with Goldie; I wanted everything. I wanted her to be mine, to share a home with her, not just as a Jett Girl, but as my girlfriend . . . as my wife. I wanted her to carry my child one day. I wanted nothing more than to grow old with her in my arms.
The only problem was, she wanted nothing to do with me, but that would be changing.
A Vietnamese woman who worked at the café took my money and smiled gently at me, as if to wish me a good day. Her smile carried me out onto the streets, as I observed the bustling sidewalks of Jackson Square.
My life was coming full circle, it felt strange. I walked the same route I took when I first dropped my business card off to Goldie. It was a risky move, getting as close to her as I did, but there was no stopping me then, like there was no stopping me now. I was on a mission, and hell if I wouldn’t follow through with it.
I placed my sunglasses over my eyes, rolled up the sleeves to the light blue button-up shirt I was wearing, and made sure it was tucked into my jeans. Even though it was a casual day for me, I still made sure to present myself well in public; it was the one thing I learned from my father that I would never forget. Image is everything, especially for someone in my position.
Leisurely, I walked around Jackson square, taking in all the palm readers, sideshow acts, musicians, and artists. One of the many beauties of New Orleans was you could be as weird and outlandish as you wanted, and no one was going to judge you for it, because they all chalked it up to the atmosphere the city had to offer. Some people may say New York City is full of crazy eclectic people, but that just tells me they’ve never been to New Orleans, because where else would you find a man painted in gold, a shopping cart turned musical instrument, and break dancing on cardboard? Only New Orleans.
Crowds gathered around someone who was balancing a bowling ball on their nose, a challenging feat for sure, when I spotted a wave of perfectly golden hair flying in the wind.
My little one.
Even though it’d only been a few short weeks since I’d seen her, it still felt like it’d been months. I missed everything about her. The way she smiled at me through her eyelashes, and the little stolen moments when she glanced in my direction to convey how much she really wanted me. I missed her sweet touches, the way my name sounded rolling off her tongue, and the sassy mouth she never seemed to know how to turn off. Fuck, I needed her in my life, desperately.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward and started making my way toward her. Like I thought, she was once again selling her beautiful art in Jackson Square. I took in the chalk-covered canvases that hung on the wrought iron fence that surrounded the square. They were impeccable, like always, but seemed almost darker, not as whimsical as I was used to her art being. I wondered if I did that to her, if the edge in her art now was because of me.
There was only one way to find out.
Her back was to me, so she didn’t see me approaching, giving me more of an opportunity to take her in. Her hair flowed out from under a sun hat and her shoulders were exposed from a red and white tank top she was wearing. Her legs sprouted out from a pair of short denim shorts and a white pair of Keds graced her perfect little feet.
My hand grazed my jaw as I took in everything about her. How could I have been such a damn fool to give up something so good?
Not wanting to wait any longer, I made the rest of my way toward her, just as a bulky man with blond hair sidled up next to her in a spare lawn chair and handed her a drink, while kissing her on the cheek at the same time.
I froze in my tracks at the display of affection from another man. Sweat started to creep down my back as rage boiled inside of me. Did she really find someone else that easily? Was I that forgettable?
I tried to convince myself I wasn’t, but then again, I hurt her, I was the one who drove her away. If she found someone else, maybe she was really trying to move on from the hell I put her through.
Looking back at our relationship, I’m now realizing there weren’t many moments when we weren’t struggling against something trying to hold us back. There was always something between us; it had never been an easy relationship for us. If it wasn’t my insane, stupid stubbornness, it was my dad.
