Page 86 of No Control
So, I know he’s really not coming back.
Closure. I need closure.
thirty-six
Henry
“I hate New York City,” Jude groans.
“Would you just stop fucking complaining about everything?” I snap as we step into a dive bar situated at the bottom of a high rise apartment building.
“We’re not here for fun.”
“All right, Brandon.”
“I hate that name.”
“Well, beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to swiping social security numbers. There’re only so many people to choose from that fit the bill.”
“You can still call me Henry.” I roll my eyes as we head toward the back of the seedy bar.
“That’s not even your real name, Dexter Murphy.”
I try not to gag at my old name. “Shut the fuck up.”
He bursts into laughter, but it quickly fades as we reach the back door of the bar. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”
I look back at him. “Yeah.” It’s a lie. It’s a lie what he thinks I’m doing, too. There’s no intel at the top of this place.
Just an escape.
Cher is happy, falling for some biker from Washington. Jude has a girlfriend. And Lydia is happy, according to everything I’ve been able to find.
“Good luck,” Jude’s voice drops an octave.
“You’re a good friend.” I give him a smile. “The best, actually.”
His face contorts. “Okay, weirdo. Go get that flash drive. The hit is due tomorrow.”
But there’s no hit.
I created the link. Sent it to Jude. He can’t open the final part of the link without the embedded password—on the flash drive in the interior of my jacket pocket. And when he opens it, it’s just a letter. One for him. One for Cher. One for Lydia.
And my will, leaving all my things to the two women I love.
I give him a nod and slide through the back door, closing it as I head for the maintenance elevator. I step inside and punch the twenty-fourth floor. I could’ve let a hit go wrong, making everyone think it wasn’t intentional. I could’ve pulled the trigger on myself. Sliced the jugular vein. Hung from a noose. I could’ve set myself on fucking fire.
But this is what I chose.
Twenty-four floors.
Twenty-four days spent with Lydia.
That’s all it took for me to fall in love with her, and to shatter myself of feeling anything once she was on that plane home. I step out onto the top floor, heading for the penthouse apartment. It’s mine. I bought it under my new name.
Just to jump from the balcony.
I punch in the code, and step into the fully furnished apartment, locking the door behind me. It’s not cozy. It’s not welcoming. It’s cold and numb. Like me. I shed my jacket and lay it on the black granite counter in the kitchen.
