Twilight fell: The sky turned to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars. (J.K.Rowling)

On the pier he asked what I wanted to eat.

“Chili fries sound good,” I thought out loud.

“Two orders of chili fries,” he ordered.

“What are you doing?” I objected as he went to pay.

“They’re both for me.”

“Oh,” I blushed.

He moved away from the wicket and I started to order when he laughed, “I was joking, these are yours.”

“Oh.”

We sat at a picnic table and I nervously ate my fries. “You didn’t have to do that you know.”

“Just because I’m a teacher doesn’t mean I can’t afford chili fires.”

“I wasn’t saying that. I just mean–”

He pointed toward the ocean. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

I nodded. It was true. The sky was painted orange and pink as the sun sunk into the sea.

For gorgeous eyes, seek out out the good in people. For a beautiful smile, speak words of kindness. For poise, walk with the knowledge that you'll never walk alone. (Audrey Hepburn)

Christian stayed with me as though it was his duty. I felt guilty but I appreciated his effort to mitigate my nervousness. It seems silly to be nervous. I had a steady hand when my fourteen year old hand pulled a trigger and ended a life but I was stumbling over my words with Pastor Higgins. Nonetheless I was starting to belong with them. I was even becoming one of them.

When we had mingled long enough and had each consumed half of a warm soggy sandwich, we left. Bidding adieu all the way to my car I felt like I was leaving a group of friends rather than the group of strangers that had been looming when I arrived.

Christian hadn’t left the parking lot when he asked if I was hungry. I nodded.

“Let’s grab a bite. I know a great little place nearby.”

“Sounds good.”

“Would it still sound good if I told you it wasn’t nearby?”

I laughed as he drove to the beach. 

All human beings should try to learn before they die what they are running from, and to, and why. (James Thurber)

He smiled as he pulled into the dirt lot where several other cars I recognized from the church parking lot were located.

“Did I pass the driving test?” he asked, closing the door and tossing the keys to me over the car.

I smiled and tossed them back to him. I liked the idea of him having my keys. Maybe he would have rather gotten a ride back to the church with a more engine savvy member of the band but he put the keys in his pocket. As we walked down the grassy green embankment into the quaint church picnic, I pretended we were a couple. Children cheered and chased each other. Men laughed heartily and discussed golf swings. Women chatted about their children and said things like “Dear worlds!”

I saw his bandmates across the way and I was suddenly paralyzed with fear. I had just been a means to an end. He would pry himself away from me and take off to them and I would be alone with nowhere to go. Who would I talk to? Why had I given him my keys?

“Hello Mrs. Winter,” he greeted and she clutched his arm. “Have you met Hope?”

“Oh sorry, hun, I thought your name was Honey.”

“That’s my nickname,” I smiled graciously.

“Well, Hope, it’s lovely to meet you.”

We shook hands.

“Are you two an item?” she asked.

My heart fluttered and sank simultaneously.

“Now Mrs. Winter, are you on the hunt for gossip to report back to the church council?”

“Christian, I would never!”

He winked at her and her scowl melted away. It seemed incredulous to me that he would wink at an old lady but she seemed to appreciate the gesture.

“How was your move?” he asked. “You must be glad to be living with your daughter.”

“I like it,” she said reluctantly. “I’m not so sure her and her husband like it as much.”

“I’m sure they love having you,” I said stupidly. “I know I would love to have my parents living with me again. I miss them.”

I could physically see Mrs. Winter warming up to me.

“That’s nice.” Her eyes twinkled at me. “Christian, you have found a lovely girl here.”

“Don’t take that back to the church council,” he teased.

She ignored him and shook my hand again. “We’re so glad you’ve joined our church, Hope. You’ll stay with us, won’t you.” It wasn’t a question. I nodded and smiled and she let my hand go as she pulled me into a hug. I think that was when I understood the term “church family”.  

You laugh, you know, I'm not saying I don't cry. But in between, I laugh. (Garden State)

“I’m interested,” he said as he slowed to a stop and waved an apprehensive pedestrian across the crosswalk, “but at the same time I’m uneasy about inquiring. I don’t want your father to shoot me up because I know too much.”

I laughed.

He smiled at me, put at ease by my laugh. I knew he was thinking: okay, maybe they aren’t so dangerous after all.

“My father actually might like you.”

“Really? Could I be a gangster?”

I laughed at that. I didn’t think I was going to stop.

“That’s just impolite.”

“Sorry,” I squeaked through a sea of sniggers.

He flipped a pair of my Ray Bans from the dashboard over his eyes. They were popular for the first time then around instead of retro-chic, as they seem to be classified these days. It’s so strange when the trends you once loved become retro.

I had no idea that Christian could be goofy. It was quite endearing but seemed to be a break in his character. Maybe he was just starting to warm up to me. I guess I’m not exactly his kind of girl. So when Christian stopped with the serious “gangster” faces that had me in stitches and pushed the sunglasses up into his hair I regained my composure and continued, “My father told me you can tell a lot about a man by the way he drives.”

“So I’m not just the hired help but now I’m taking a thinly veiled driving assessment here?”

I leaned into the dashboard as I laughed at him. That was when I realized I was breaking character too. I had fun sometimes but I never laughed outrageously like this. He was bringing out a different side of me, one even I had never witnessed.

“Don’t worry, you’re a good driver. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“So I’m passing the test?” he said as he started teasingly tapping the brakes bobbing me back and forth. Cars all around us honked and drivers stuck up the most ungodly finger as they whizzed past.

“And on Sunday,” he said shaking his head with playful disapproval. I never had him pegged as a playful person. I immediately cursed myself for considering how that could make him a great father someday.

It was jarring when he said “father” in his next sentence but I tried to focus on the question, something about why my father considers driving to be an apt test of character.

“He says that all the traits that make a good driver also make a good man. You have to react to other people’s mistakes, be confident, make decisions quickly, maintain your momentum, respect the road and be aware of the endless factors that contribute to driving conditions. Someone who is yelling at some guy for cutting him off is probably angry about a lot of things in his life, you know?”

“That makes sense,” he nodded.

“It’s like any high-stress situation, which is basically any given day of driving in LA, that’s when you determine a person’s character.”

“My mom has a bookmark that says: A women is like a teabag, you never know how strong she is until you put her in hot water.”

“Exactly,” I laughed. “She sounds cute.”

“She is,” he nodded. “I get the impression my family is very different than yours.”

“My family is very different than most.”

You can't go through life thinking one day everyone will let you down. (Angels in the Outfield)

“I’ve never driven a BMW before.”

“It’s small and pretty easy to drive.”

He started it up. “This is no 1971 Jeep Renegade,” he said as he listened to it hum before we started off. I debated telling him he could have it.

“So how do you usually get around?” he asked as he smoothly pulled out onto the busy street.

“I usually have a driver,” I admitted.

He gave me a sideways glance. “Did I just elect to be the hired help?”

I laughed.

“At least you aren’t flying into church I guess. Do you have a helicopter too?”

I shook my head. “Just a little four-seater, that only seats two.” Christian laughed. “I’m looking to buy a jet though. I’m qualified to fly an aircraft that size and it would be nice to be able to fly my family with me.”

“That’s cute,” he offered as he flicked his blinker on in a manner that could only be described as graceful. Everything he did was fluid and musical. He was like a living breathing poem. “It’s strange to me how you and your family interact. I guess I can’t wrap my mind around the whole mobster thing. It seems so outlandish.”

“I guess.”

The nice thing about rain is that it always stops, eventually. (Eeyore)

There was a church picnic on Sunday afternoon and I wasn’t going to go: why would I? I had no family to tote along. But as I was getting in my BMW to drive myself home I noticed Christian standing in front of his Jeep with the hood popped. I debated driving away because I suspected I would look stupid if I tried to help or offer counsel. Christian was nice enough but I know how men get when their cars are acting up, tempers flare, it’s a fact of life. It seemed a shame because Christian was perfect in my eyes and I didn’t want that view changed. He gave me faith in the human race and made me believe there could be good in people.

Reluctantly, I turned off my engine and approached him.

“Hi.”

“Oh hey, Honey,” he said. “It’s so strange saying that.”

“My real name is Hope but no one uses it,” I shrugged.

“Hope,” he repeated. “That’s beautiful. Do you mind if I call you Hope?”

“Not at all.”

“So, as you can tell, I’m having a bit of trouble.”

I smirked, I’m not really sure why, it was just amusing somehow.

“Are you headed over to the picnic?”

I shook my head.

“Why not?”

I shrugged.

“You don’t like picnics? Who doesn’t like picnics?”

I laughed but it was muted.

“I was going hop in with you but I guess I’ll just find someone else.”

“What about your car?”

“It’s just overheated; I’ll come back for it with some antifreeze.”

I could see him scouting the parking lot.

“I can drive you over,” I quickly offered.

“Really? You don’t have too.”

“Maybe I’ll stay, see what all the picnic fuss is about.”

We started toward my car as he pressed, “So you’ve never been to a picnic before? I think that’s considered child abuse.”

I laughed as we climbed into my beamer.

“Where is the picnic?” I asked and he started rhyming off numerical street names and estimations. I regretted asking. “Do you want to drive?”

“Really?”

“You don’t have to– I just hate navigating through LA traffic.”

“You fly but you don’t drive. You are an interesting woman.”

We switched seats.

Who we are never changes. Who we think we are does. (Mary S. Almanac)

Rider came by the next day and he checked me out of the hospital. He wanted to take me by his apartment but I insisted we go to the Palisades. He was surprised to see the house that meth built.

We ate together. My cook prepared a lovely meal, she always did.

I convinced Rider that I was fine, better than fine. This was challenging though because I wasn’t attending Scotch’s funeral. If I made it out to be business I was cold. If I made it out to be any physical ailment I had to deal with that bag of worms.

I was honest; it’s amazing how easy it is when you’re honest. I told him I was sick of death and funerals and I cared about Scotch and the mourning family but I wanted to respect her from here rather than go and deal with the whole dog-and-pony show.

He nodded. He understood. I don’t know why I didn’t start telling the truth earlier.

All those conversations are the secrets that I keep though it makes no sense to me. (One Direction)

He was speechless. I didn’t regret telling him though. I refused to lie to him.

“Are you messing with me?”

I shook my head.

“I wish I was but that is my life.”

“So why do you go to church?”

I shrugged. “Why not?”

“You’re a criminal.”

“But I want to be good.”

He smiled this endearing little smile and, perhaps foolishly, I believed I could be good or at least better.

We must keep our own moral compass pointed in a true direction. (Barrack Obama)

I could have lied to him. Something in me was compelled to make the right decision and tell the truth. When did I develop a moral compass?

“Christian, I’m not exactly what you might call a good person. In fact, I’ve done some terrible things.”

He looked concerned. I think he thought I dabbled in Nicky’s arts.

“My family is not like most families.”

“How so?”

“My grandfather, you met him, he used to be the righthand man in one of the most dangerous gangs in New York. He kinda screwed up and he knew he was about to be offed so he became a narc. He was moved to Philadelphia with the Witness Protection Program. He made a life there. A few years later he got back in the business, just smalltime stuff: moving mediocre amounts of drugs mostly. I grew up in a family of drug dealers and I moved to the west coast to live with my uncle while the rest of my family was in jail. My uncle put me in charge of one of his apartment buildings and I turned it into a crystal meth production facility. It got shot up and busted while I was in Saudi Arabia with my boyfriend, who later ODed while I was catatonic in the wake of the horrible events that had transpired. My partner took the fall for the meth production. We had a history. He tried to murder one of my boyfriends, maybe me too, and he also tried to commit suicide in my apartment. He covered for me though and I owe my freedom to him. The boyfriend he tried to murder was actually the same guy who landed me in here. My entire life is a twisted web of angry people and bad life choices.”

Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return. (Leonardo da Vinci)

He mentioned something about school and I encouraged him to chatter on about his class and the funny things they would do.

“What do you do?”

What did I do?

“I fly.”

“You’re a pilot?”

“Yes.” That wasn’t a lie.

“Like commercial flights?”

He was impressed. I hated to defer that. “No, I just fly my own plane.”

He laughed. “You just fly around for fun?”

I shrugged. “I guess. I love flying.”

“But isn’t that expensive? Where do you get the money? Oh, are you a spoiled rich kid?”

How could I answer this? My family was rich but I made my own money.

“I have some investments.” That wasn’t a lie.

“Investments? You’re like twenty-four years old.”

“Twenty,” I corrected. He laughed. I loved when he laughed.

“Seriously?”

The empty vessel makes the loudest sound. (William Shakespeare)

As I lay there in my hospital bed, looking disheveled I’m sure, in walked Christian. Yes, you read that correctly: Christian. He had a weathered brown leather messenger bag over his shoulder. He had come straight from school. The rolled sleeves on his shirt showed the signs of a trying day but he was smiling like he was happy nonetheless. He gave me a sympathetic look and I knew he had read all about the escapade in the paper.

“Sorry,” he said like it was somehow his fault.

I smiled. What do you say to that? Apology accepted.

“I don’t know if it’s okay that I’m dropping in like this. I don’t mean to impose. I just wanted to extend my sympathies.”

“It’s okay. It’s nice to have company.” I meant that too, though a moment before I was shunning my entire family so I could be alone. “You can sit down.”

He was apprehensive about taking a seat.

“You don’t have to stay or anything,” I said. “I was just trying to be polite.”

“Well, then I guess it’s polite to sit.”

The conversation was as painful as it was awkward but I didn’t want him to leave. When there’s a void in your life anything will fill it. My life wasn’t exactly complete but I had thought there was no room for any new people in it. In fact, I didn’t have room for people at all. As far as I could see that was the biggest problem with my life: the people in it. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to shut him out. Truth be told, I was practically welcoming him in.  

I restore myself when I'm alone. (Marilyn Monroe)

When my parents called I assured them I was fine even though I wasn’t and Senior corroborated my claim. They stayed in Philly under the assumption that I would be there in time for her funeral.

I wanted to be alone. My family, allegedly so keen on protecting me, wasn’t there when I needed them. I’ll admit now that I wanted them to stay at a distance so my case against them could build.

I was done with funerals. I was done with all the people in my past. That book was over and done with. I was starting a new book.  

The classic bully was actually a victim first. (Tom Hiddleston)

“Scotch died.”

I knew it was coming but that didn’t make the news any better.

“They want you to stay another night but I talked to the doctor and I’m getting you out today. We’ll fly out tonight. Tony is in shambles.”

I shook my head. “You go. I’ll fly out tomorrow.”

“No, if you want to stay another night you can, we’ll go tomorrow morning.”

“Uncle Tony needs you.”

“He has Tommy and Penny. I don’t care about Scotch, you’re my granddaughter.”

“It’s not about Scotch, she’s gone now. It’s about Tony. It’s about my mother and father. They all need you now.”

“You need us. You need your family.”

I waved my hand dismissively. “I got punched in the face.”

He considered this. He was a man and he didn’t understand the horror of the experience. He believed it was just a bruised jaw. He believed I was stronger than I was. He spent the day with me and took the redeye back to Philly.  

There are no heroes in life. The monsters win. (George R.R. Martin)

The first thing I saw when I woke up in the hospital was a card with praying hands on the front. It sat in front of a pot of flowers delivered by New Hope Community Church. They had read what had happened in the paper and I was on their prayer list. There were cards from a number of members of the congregation.

The emotional scars were lasting but I had essentially just got punched in the face. I didn’t know if I deserved all this sympathy from good people. Sure, part of me thought I deserved their pity. But part of me blamed myself for messing Nicky up, along with everyone else who had came into my life.

Senior was sitting in the room with me. He got to his feet when he saw that I was awake. I was embarrassed to explain to Senior what had happened. He handed me a paper. I was the victim; that was how I had been painted at least.

“There’s more,” he began ominously.

How could there be more than that?

If you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gazes back into you. (Friedrich Nietzsche)

The two girls who lived next door had called the cops, knocked down the rickety door, and sprayed so much pepper spray in Nicky’s eyes he was now legally blind. He was arrested and brought to the same jail as Tommy.

Nicky had built an empire of his own. His girlfriend lured women to his skivvy apartment and terrible things happened that were sold on VHS tapes to equally skivvy guys for 19.95USD. Nicky’s actions were horrific. Twenty years to life worth of horrific.

He was plastered all over papers and news broadcasts nationwide. I never knew he had a dream. I certainly never knew he had the initiative to accomplish something worthy of headlines. Maybe it’s sentimental, but I never thought he could hurt people like that. I really never thought he could hurt me like that. He had been the first one, outside my family, to love me. What did that say? Had I hurt him so badly? Had I ruined his life in such an irrevocable way that this was what he had become?

He was a monster and I felt responsible.

I object to violence because when it appears to do good, the good is only temporary. The evil it does is permanent. (Gandhi)

“Get off of me!” I demanded.

He laughed, not a jovial laugh, it was sinister and frightening. I was trapped. I screamed but he cupped his hand over my mouth. His hand was as dirty as his apartment. He tried to pry my dress off with a single hand. I bit his hand and used that glimpse of time to breakaway. I couldn’t get my legs free but I called out: help, help, help! I felt like I was suffocating as I struggled to get free. I fought and screamed until a firm fist to the face knocked me out cold.

I woke up in the hospital.  

Well that's an evil smile. (James Patterson)

The elevator was broken and there wasn’t any air-conditioning so as we climbed the dingy stairs to his apartment I got flushed and my hair stuck to my face and neck. It was an unattractive display.

He wiggled his key in the door and unveiled the cesspool of germs and grime that he called home. It was a closet posing as a bachelor apartment. There were half-naked posters of girls on the walls and overflowing makeshift ashtrays on any bare surface.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” I said as he lit a cigarette. He pulled me into a kiss and blew smoke into my mouth.

I cringed and pushed him away. He smirked and let the cigarette fall into one of his aluminum foil ashtrays to burn out. He pulled me close again. Maybe if he had shown some sign of hesitation I would have been more inclined to back away. There was something about powerful gestures that I found irresistible. He fumbled with a pile of junk on his desk as he kissed me but I just laughed through it.

I don’t know why I was so stupid.

“What about your girlfriend?” I challenged barely breaking the kiss.

“She does this sort of thing all the time.”

“She cheats on you!”

“We don’t call this cheating.”

I laughed without seeing the red flag in any of it.

I touched his bare mattress where the filthy sheet had fallen away. I didn’t know which was worse. Nothing was worse than what I realized he had been fumbling with behind me.  

Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go. (Oscar Wilde)

“What about you? What miserable activities are you up to?”

“I’m living in the Palisades and I’ve been doing a lot of flying lately. I’m looking into buying a bigger plane. Something I could take my family around in. You know one of those little ones with the bar and the leather seats facing one another. That might be nice. Maybe we can go for a ride someday, you know, when you’re not busy with all your movies.”

“I’d rather go to hell than get in a plane with you.”

He was an attractive guy, I even liked the temper, but this attitude was off-putting. When did he get so jaded and angry?

The driver stopped at Nicky’s apartment. He had been nervously looking back at us in the rearview mirror all the while. He wasn’t a Nicky fan and I didn’t blame him. If I had just met Nicky I wouldn’t have liked him either. Hell, if I had been objective I wouldn’t have liked him then but there was a time when I cared about Nicky, loved him even.

I knew he blamed me for William’s death and I was okay with that. I blamed me for William’s death. I respected his anger, I understood it. Maybe that was why I peeled myself off the leather seat and followed him into his apartment at his less-than-romantic request.

"Who are we making jealous?" she asks and he replies: "Everyone." (Drive Me Crazy)

“Where are you headed?”

“My apartment.”

“Little more specific.”

He sighed and rattled off the address. My driver started toward his house.

“How’s the acting going?”

“I quit the soap.”

“No.”

“I got a movie.”

“Oh yeah, that’s great.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a few lately, it’s been taking up a lot of my time.”

“I bet.”

“I have a girlfriend too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. She’s smokin’.”

Now things were back to normal. I was returned to my rightful position in our relationship.

“An actress?”

“Yes and a damn good one.”

I nodded with amusement. Obviously I didn’t believe him.

Saying sorry doesn't solve the problem. (Drake)

“Nicky,” I whispered.

The magic melted away.

“What do you want?”

The sun ducked behind the buildings and darkness closed in quickly.

“What’s wrong?”

He started walking again.

With furrowed eyebrows, I instructed the driver to edge forward with him. “Nicky, it’s me. It’s Honey. Don’t you remember?”

“I remember you.”

“Nicky, I’m sorry about William and I’m sorry about everything.”

I was apologizing. I was begging. I was disgusted with myself.

“What the hell, Nicky! Who do you think you are?” I laughed.

He stopped and somehow I knew I had him where I wanted him. That kid’s parents really did a number on him. He ignores the girl pleading for his approval but climbs into the backseat of the girl who belittles him. Bravo Mama and Papa Martinez, really, top shelf job!

Every memory repeats. Every step I take retreats. (Unknown)

Life is short, why do I want to work all of it away? I can relax. Why wouldn’t I?

Maybe this was what all the power mongers are looking for: that euphoric moment when they can turn in the towel and disappear into the sun. I won.

When I left I felt okay. We started to drive and a couple blocks away from the apartment I spotted him.

“Stop!”

The car halted and pulled over slightly with a chorus of angry beeps that made him turn to face the car as I rolled down the window.

I didn’t even say his name. I just smiled at him. I had missed him terribly; only when I saw him did I realize that.

He looked at me like he felt it for a moment. For a brief moment we were back at the apartment complex at the height of my reign.

It could work out good or it could be disastrous. It's like the throw of the dice. (Jim Morrison)

It was impossible. I sat there for hours and let it simmer but no insight came. I wondered if it had finally happened: had the drugs finally made me dumb?

I was out of the business without persecution of any kind. I had more money than any person could ever need. I could fly. Maybe I should follow God and quit for good. I could. It would have been easy. Retired at age twenty – that might have been the dream for some people but it wasn’t the dream for me. No, it definitely wasn’t. I just couldn’t see it. I don’t think I could… not really.

There’s something about taking the ferry rather than the clipper out on the seas that appeals to people. I had taken a chance on the dangerous ride. Probability would only save me so long. Maybe it was time to tie up the boat. Maybe I had rolled the dice and won. Why roll again? I had my moment of triumph and failure and now I could spend my days in the sun. I won. I lost, look at the place, but maybe I won.

For some reason I can't explain, I know St. Peter won't call my name. (Coldplay)

I had to redefine what I considered success.

I walked back into my apartment and sat on the floor of the balcony. I leaned against the wall, got sufficiently high, and pondered where I would go from here. Senior was a grave influence but if I let someone else tell me what I wanted I would be going against everything I stood for.

Power: that was all I’d ever wanted. What was more powerful than money? I could get more.

Drugs were powerful too. They had a power over people and the power to attain the primary objective, money.

God was powerful. He was the powerful force I had glazed over before. I didn’t know how I could rely on Him though. I went to church and made generous contributions to the collection plate but He still wasn’t on my side, I knew that.

Flying made me feel powerful.

Money, drugs, God, and flying: this was what was important to me.  

One minute I held the key, next the walls were closed on me. And I discovered that my castles stand on pillars of salt and pillars of sand. (Coldplay)

I knew my driver was watching and I knew it was impractical in a dress but I climbed over the gate and leaped into the courtyard. The fallen walls seemed to cave in around me as I spun slowly taking it all in. It was destroyed. The plants were dead. The pool was empty and dirty. I could feel the death of six seven souls lingering all around me. I knelt beside the pool and considered all that had happened. Was it worth it? Were my shining moments worth the pain they caused? What did I have to show for it? Houses, a plane, a friend in jail, an assistant in the ground, a protégé dead, a driver gone forever… Lives ruined. My life wasn’t though, not really.

In my apartment, I remembered. I didn’t think of Tommy bleeding out in my bathroom or William knocking apprehensively at my door or police stupidly searching the place. I thought of Nicky. I wondered where he was now. I went to the balcony and thought of jumping. That’s what this chapter of my life was about: jumping off. This was my starting point.

I looked over the city. You could be mine, but I paced back out toward the courtyard and I stood on the second floor landing and overlooked my fallen dream. I remembered the clichés: fail seven times, stand eight. The best success comes after the greatest disappointment. Failure builds character. Success is a state of mind. A woman doesn’t fail until she blames someone else for her failure. The end justifies the means. No, the means justify the end. I didn’t know how to feel about it all anymore but I knew this could not be the end. An untimely end to my empire was something I would not accept.  

I used to rule the world. Seas would rise when I gave the word. Now in the morning I sleep alone. Sweep the streets I used to own. (Coldplay)

That afternoon I went to the place that meant the most to me here. Senior was doing whatever he does and I left the house without his notice. I didn’t know my driver’s name nor did I want to. I made a conscious effort to remain detached from him. He could never take the place of either of his predecessors: not Joseph or William.

He pulled up beside the WeHo apartment building and he thought it must have been the wrong address.

“You sure this is the right place, Miss?”

I nodded silently and sat there a moment. It was covered in warning signs and construction debris. I got out and walked slowly to the gate. I wrapped my fist around the padlock. I was barred out of the place that had been my beginning, my empire.  

Hope dangles on a string, like slow spinning redemption. (Dashboard Confessional, Vindicated)

“Your father was a lot like Ricky, but he was better. He could deal with people better. If your father had been the leader of the group Ricky might still be alive. If Ricky was alive Vinnie might be, that kid lived for Ricky. My boys would have lived different lives if Tommy hadn't met Penny. They completed one another. They were, and still are, soulmates in the purest form. There was something a little disappointing about it though. I was happy to see Tommy so happy and Penny is great but it was still disappointing. He couldn't focus the same because a piece of him was always with her and he had something to lose so he didn't play the same. But then there was you and it all made sense. He was compromised so you could be born. You were their vindication in my eyes and now that's why it kills me to see you making his mistakes. Think of what you've accomplished already. Imagine what you could do. I’d never known a powerful woman before you. When you're not around I can still feel you, like an extension of myself. You have so much promise, Honey. You could do anything, you could be anyone: choose carefully.”

Helluva speech, right? I guess that's why he didn't talk much. He was saving it all up for such an occasion. I didn't know what to make of it exactly. I had to think it all over awhile.

It is better to be unhappy alone than unhappy with someone. (Marilyn Monroe)

“The problem is that you are your father's daughter. You have the compromising tendency toward love that he had.”

“I was only ever in love once and he died.”

“You love drugs.”

“Well, yeah.”

“And you're a soulmate.”

“What?”

He sighed. “Some people are made for someone and someone is made for them. They're soulmates.”

“I know what a soulmate is. I didn't think you did.”

“I don't believe everyone has one. Some people were made to be alone. Some people have the capability to love themselves enough that they don't need another soul to keep them company as they wait to die. Some people are made to be alone and some people are made for someone else. I used to think you were made to be alone, like me. I always hoped you would be enough for yourself but I can see it now. You need someone. You were made for someone. That boy back there was made for someone too, I don't know if it was you or not but I know he was made for someone. You can tell when you meet a person. You can tell if they are a soulmate and just as easily you can tell if they are not. There's nothing wrong with either type but I just wanted you to be the clearheaded leader who bi-passed love.”

That took a couple moments to process.

If I'd observed all the rules, I'd never have got anywhere. (Marilyn Monroe)

The rules threw me off and they didn't seem important. I had never followed rules and I had reaped many rewards for the corners I'd cut.

“You're turning into your father,” Senior told me as if it was an insult. “You had so much promise, Honey, and I had so much hope for you. I saw the best of me in you.”

I didn't like where this was going.

“You had an empire at eighteen. Maybe you came up too fast. Maybe it was the drugs. My boys, all of them, that was what ruined them. Drugs mess you up.”

“Come on,” I laughed. “How can you say that? You've been selling drugs all your life.”

“And screwing up other people for my own personal gain. That's better than screwing up myself for someone else's gain. I dabbled in drugs but I always had control. My boys never did, they were all too emotional. But you, you had the potential to do all the things I wanted them to. When you were born, I remember this perfect Christmas baby. You were so small and you seemed so weak and I was compelled to protect you. I had never seen a newborn baby girl before. When I reached for you, your tiny arm batted my hand away. You were so tiny, so, so tiny but I could feel the strength. My initial need to protect you turned to a feeling of pride. I'll always want to protect you but, I don't know, I could sense a strength in you that had the potential to crush any obstacle. As you grew I was increasingly convinced of your power. You ran our house from the day you were born but we loved you. The greatest dictators are the ones who are loved.”

“How can you love a dictator?”

“The same way I loved you after you overthrew my reign on my own house.”

“Senior,” I said skeptically. “No one ever respected or feared me like they did you.”

He ignored me.

Screws just fall out all the time. The world is an imperfect place. (The Breakfast Club)

“You seemed different in there just now.”

“Senior, that's who I am now. I believe in all that stuff.”

“Then why are you still on meth? I am no expert but I am damn sure that isn't in the Bible.”

I didn't know he had even noticed that. I thought I was discreet. I had no response to that. I hadn't started my Christian experience at some euphoric revival. I was easing into it slowly. Maybe I would stop doing drugs at some point. Maybe I would just wean myself off as church filtered into the drug-shaped void in my life.

Besides, not doing drugs was just a rule. It was like a little caveat of Christianity. The big picture was much greater. If Christianity was a mural salvation would cover the canvas, painted in gold, red, purple, bright and beautiful. The rules would be the black border tracing along the edge of the mural. 

Every time you look at me that way, I melt. (Rascal Flatts)

I melted. I've never melted before. The closest I've come to melting has been of shear heat. It's never been about a boy. He knew my name and I was dumbfounded. I think I even stood there a while with my mouth ajar like a slack-jawed hillbilly. I don't like to admit it but I think I stood there as just watched him climb into his 1971 Jeep Renegade.

I shook it off and got in the backseat of the car with a flushed complexion.

“Do you want to get a bite before we go back to the house?”

“Sure.”

“Where would you like to go?”

“Topanga sounds lovely,” he teased. Not in an Uncle Tony sort of way but in a frightening serious Senior sort of way. I didn't know how to react.

“How about a restaurant by the beach?”

“Sure.”

I reported to the driver and we pulled out of the parking lot. I looked back.

“It's a nice church.”

He smiled ominously.

“I haven't been going all that long but I really like it.”

He nodded like he was keeping a secret.

“I know it's not really your thing...”

“Is it yours?”

Wow, that came out of nowhere.

“I think so,” I nodded. “It is now.”

“Why? It is because of your interest in Christianity or your interest in boys by the same name?”

“What?”

He shrugged.

I was offended.

“What are you saying?”

“It was just a question.”

“Of course it's because of the spiritual aspect. There are men everywhere, why would I have to go to church to meet them?” Though technically Christian was the reason I started attending. “In fact, that was the most I've ever talked to that boy.”

We sat in silence for a couple miles.