Stuff she cherished.
The pawnshop hadn’t so much been a career choice, as a passion.
But she was a smart career woman too, never having a problem paying her bills and having play money.
All the while doing a good service to the people in the community.
Our father would be so damn proud of her.
“Okay,” she said after escorting the woman out, then closing the shop. “So, the man is away doing all sorts of sordid shit,” she reminded me, making my stomach twist. Not so much because of what he had to do for work, but because of the potential for him to get hurt or arrested. “So we get a girls night,” she said, grabbing her jacket from under the counter. And I didn’t miss the fact that she tucked a gun into a shoulder holster, either. “Where’s Judy?” she asked.
“We are meeting her at her apartment,” I said.
“Let’s go then,” Alara declared. “We need to savor the night. We are missing out on prime savoring by just standing here.”
It never failed to feel a bit odd to walk back into my old apartment building, despite the fact that I’d been there to clear out my old apartment, then to see Judy many times.
So my stomach was tense as we made our way across the lobby, then up the elevator.
And I expected that strange recoiling sensation as I moved past my old apartment.
But, for the first time ever, as we walked past, the door opened.
A man walked out, rolling a bit of luggage with him.
He stopped dead for a moment, then turned back. At the exact same moment that a woman rushed out, throwing herself into his arms.
She kissed him like he was going off to war, then pulled back to shoot him a soft-eyed smile.
“Just to remind you what’s waiting for you when you get back,” she said.
“Back from where?” the man asked, pushing his luggage back into the house. “I’m not going anywhere but back to bed with you,” he said, grabbing her hand where a big old diamond was sitting.
Then the door closed.
And it was done.
It was all just… done.
It felt like the cycle was over.
The curse was broken.
That apartment that had held all my hell was holding all their heaven.
And it was… done.
The relief was immediate and breathtaking.
“Ez, come on. We need to savor!” Alara declared, grabbing my wrist and dragging me into Judy’s apartment.
Where we listened to bluesy records.
Drank amazing wine.
And, yes, savored the night.
Brio - 4 years
“You could put her down, you know,” Ezzy said as she came back from taking the long, luxurious shower of a woman who knew her baby was safe in the arms of her father.
And there she was.
Still safe in my arms.
She had been all but asleep when Ezzy had given her to me. Then she’d gone and done the whole long shower thing. Shaving and exfoliating and deep conditioning included. It must have been well over an hour since she’d gone in there.
“Why would I want to do that?” I asked, shooting her a smirk.
To be honest, I’d been relieved when we found out we were having a girl.
It wasn’t that I preferred one sex over the other. But there was a part of me that was worried about having a son. About my Y genes being tainted or some shit.
My dad was a fucking dick.
I was warped.
It was a stupid thing to worry about. I was a product of my environment. And, to an extent, my father had been a product of his own as well.
My kids would never know those kinds of hardships. They would never feel that coldness or fear or uncertainty.
They would never be hurt by me.
And they would never see me hurting their mother.
But still… there was just a niggling, irrational fear.
So, yeah, I’d been relieved when it had been a girl.
And since the day she came into the world, I couldn’t seem to get enough of her.
“Well…” Ezzy said, shooting me a smirk as she reached for the sash of her black silk robe with the white lace trim, and worked it free, then shrugged her shoulders just right… and let the material fall from her naked body. “Maybe you want to have your hands free for this,” she said, gesturing a hand toward her body.
And, well, when my woman was right, she was right.
Ezmeray - 7 years
It was official.
Berat and Deniz Polat were dead.
You know… officially.
That was how long it took to declare a missing person dead. Seven years.
And Brio’s twisted way of celebrating?
Renting out the very restaurant where Berat’s body was buried under the fresh concrete foundation.
Twisted, ridiculous, absolutely psychotic.
But in the best possible way.
That was Brio.
“To freedom,” Brio toasted as the Family stood around roughly just over where Berat’s bones were located.
“To freedom,” I said, smiling, raising my sparkling grape juice to my lips.