After dumping out my meager possessions, I was ready and wordlessly followed him outside. Where I’d once walked the streets with confidence, I now hung close to Cort, a bit overwhelmed. With that innate sense, he took my hand and slowed his steps to match my stride. We reached the bookstore, and I exhaled a sigh of relief.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot I’d promised to help Race. I can do this until I figure out something full-time.”
“Let’s go inside.” Cort pushed the door open, and we entered. Spotting Race behind the desk in his usual place, I took a deep breath and approached. In some ways, he was almost as intimidating as James, and with a start I realized how very far away and insignificant those days at DeWitt and Wynters were for me now. Perhaps because these people mattered.
“Harlan, welcome back. I’d get up but, well, I can’t right now.”
I extended my hand. “No need for formalities. I’m sorry you aren’t feeling any better.”
Cort joined Race behind the desk and poured out coffee. “So Race is gonna be going in for an operation, and he’s asked me to take over the running of the store while he’s recuperating. I’m thinkin’ you can come work here. You need the job, and Race needs the help.”
It was the best solution to my problem, and one I’d hoped for. But after my last stunt, running out on him, buying vodka and coming back to the store drunk, I wasn’t sure Race would be up for giving me a second chance.
“Before you say anything further, I need to say something to Race.” I turned to him and met his gaze. “Part of my recovery is facing up to people I hurt in the past, telling them how I wronged them and apologizing. So.” I took a deep breath, then exhaled, shocked at the crazy pumping of my heart. “The last time I was here, when I ran out and came back with coffee? That wasn’t the whole story.”
“Oh?” Race quirked a brow, and my throat dried.
“Yeah. Before I got the coffee, I went to the liquor store, bought a bottle of vodka, and drank half of it down. While both your cups had plain coffee, I laced my coffee with the vodka.”
“So when you came back here to help, you were drunk.” He crossed his arms.
“As a fucking skunk.”
No more running. No more hiding. I would own my mistakes even if it meant I’d lose this chance. From what I’d seen of Race, he was a hard-ass and played no games.
“It was that picture, wasn’t it?” Cort asked. “The one of your parents dancing?”
“Yeah.” I sipped my coffee, remembering their smiling faces from that grainy newspaper photograph. They danced on top of the world while I balanced on the edge of it, holding on by my fingernails. I’d barely been on their minds while I was at the firm, but that was as much my fault as theirs, having little use for them aside from the prestige the family name brought and the money that flowed. Once they cut me off, fired me from the firm, and took my apartment, they forgot all about their derelict son.
“Look, Harlan. I don’t know your story. But it’s taken me all my life to build up this business, and I’m not going to let some smart-aleck rich brat come in and ruin it. I have little use for people who make their living off the backs of others while squashing them into the ground. But.” He gave me that hard-eyed glare again, and I met it unflinchingly. “I also believe in second chances. Not third or fourth ones, though. So Cort asked me to hire you, and I said yes. Three months and you show me what you got. Show me you’ve changed. If you fuck up once, come in drunk or high, you’re out.”
I could’ve passed out from the relief. “Thank you. And I’m not going to make any promises other than to say I hope next year we’re all sitting here looking back on this as only a memory.”
“For your sake, I hope that’s the case. Now I can schedule my surgery, and hopefully they can fix my back.” He shifted in the chair and paled, his pain obvious.
“At least you don’t gotta worry about your business. With me ’n Harlan here now, everything’s gonna be all right.”
“I hope so. I’m counting on you. Both of you.”
After seven hourswith only a sandwich eaten at the desk, I was more tired than I’d ever been working at the firm. Probably because I hadn’t done shit when I was practicing law. I’d forced all the new hires to do my research and write briefs, which saved me countless hours in the library so that I could leave early and hit the bars.
“You done good.” Cort locked the door, and in half an hour I’d finished tallying up the day’s sales. Race had a particular way of doing things, and I wanted to make sure I followed his instructions. I didn’t want to give him any reason to fire me.
“First day, best impression.”
“Don’t trivialize it. You worked your tail off.”
“Yeah. But now I gotta man up, so to speak. I’d like to go with you to the club and talk to James.”
Cort’s eyes widened, and he gave a low whistle. “You really are on an apology tour.”
“Next to you, I owe him the most.”
He didn’t answer me but set his hand on my shoulder and gave it a hard squeeze. I’d almost forgotten the power of human touch, and I felt it down to the tips of my toes.
“You owe it to yourself. Only you can get your life together.”
“Do it for yourself,”they told me in therapy.“Don’t change your life, don’t get clean for anyone but you, because in the end, the person you need to learn to love is yourself.”
