“What?”
“You care about Sarah a lot,” he said. “A fucking lot. You’re going an awfully long way to protect her.”
“And? Your fucking point?”
“The last time you were this invested in something, it led to where our business empire is today,” Dante said. His voice had gone quiet. “But the only reason you succeeded was because you took the emotion out of it. You calmed yourself and then executed. And you did that by spending time with Virgil.”
Fuck.
He was right.
“I think you should go to his grave as soon as you can,” Dante continued, his voice somber. “You’ve got a lot of fantasies flying in your head right now. I’m not sure if you want Sarah or if you want to destroy her. I’m not even sure you know. You need a clear head, Cassius.”
He was very right. I didn’t say a word back to him, but by the time I got dropped back off atRuby, I knew what tomorrow held.
I would be visiting my little brother.
22
SARAH
Getting to the gallery first thing on Saturday morning was the right move.
But it didn’t exactly mean that we had a perfectly private “shoot” like I thought we might.
In fact, the opposite happened. As I stood with my paintings, as I let Delilah shoot photos and had Talia and Bridget suggest different options, the guests who came through recognized me and said they loved my work. Some wanted to do photos with me. Some asked for a link to my website or at least my social media links. One even purchased one of my works on my website!
In a sense, it was amazing. It was proof that what Cassius had done to help me was coming to fruition, and even with the ugly split—just two days ago, though it seemed both much longer ago and much more recent—my career might still be fine. True, I might have hit peak elevation, but I would still do just fine cruising a little lower than now.
But in another sense, it served as a cruel reminder of how I actually felt inside.
Every smile I gave to a fan contrasted that strongly with the stress of being in Las Vegas even just one more minute gave me.Every photo I took with a fan by my side reminded me of photos I took with Cassius by my side, something that both burned me up and left me yearning for what had been. Every pose I took with my artwork brought me back to a different gala with Cassius.
I might have broken up with him and told him to never fucking see me again, to never let me come anywhere near the Black Reapers, but I could not so easily disassociate my memories from him.
Thank God he hadn’t shown up. In fact, after only twenty minutes, the girls said they’d gotten plenty, and Delilah swore on her journalistic career that the photos were of high enough quality. The brief time window ensured that I’d get to leaveAllurewithout saying a word to Cassius.
And, strangely enough, that felt disappointing. It felt incomplete to leave the art venue that had catapulted my career without acknowledging in person the man who had done that for me. I might have hated Cassius the man—no, I didn’t hate him, I just… I didn’t know—but I certainly had nothing but gratitude for Cassius the art patron.
As we left the casino, I was also left with the feeling that I was exiting without acknowledging Cassius’ world at all. That’s what had happened years ago, when Virgil’s death and everything with the Reapers prompted me to exit without so much as visiting Virgil’s grave.
But now…
Things were still getting hairy. The Reapers might appear at any moment. I had the ugly feeling that there was another shoe to drop, and while I may not have been oblivious to the risks of that, I was oblivious to where said shoe might drop.
But I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. Call it a selfish desire for peace in my soul, call it crazy talk, call it a fairassessment of what I needed to do to make sure I never moved back here. I had to visit Virgil.
“Will we see you again before you go back?” Talia said in the parking lot ofRuby.
I shook my head no. After I saw Virgil, I’d get all my stuff and make my way back to Phoenix. That would be that. I wasn’t going to say I wouldneverreturn to Las Vegas, but I wouldn’t be living here.
“I’ll come up for some Christmas shows, probably,” I offered, but even that was a weak offer. I didn’t have anything specific in mind, just a nebulous hope that I could do something. “Maybe we can do a Christmas gathering of some kind.”
“That would be nice,” Bridget said.
I shared hugs with them, none of them quite tearful—Phoenix and Las Vegas were hours by car, not a full day of flights, away—but all of them wondering what could have been. Only Delilah seemed to hang back just a bit, as if she was still waiting to give the full farewell.
But all the same, we went our separate ways. I headed to my car, plopped down in the driver’s seat, and drew in an enormous sigh. I knew, even having not been to Vegas in years and having never visited my next particular destination, where to go. There was a cemetery not very far from the airport, not very far from the Strip itself. It was expansive, but the nature of Vegas’ flatness meant it was easy to overlook. Yet if you lived here and had a loved one buried there, odds were good you passed it by close to daily and would remember.
