Page 43 of Redemption
"Gabriel, you know me. I'm just here to help.” I could hear the faint sounds of laughing voices, clinking glasses, and music in the background. He was in some bar, no doubt enjoying himself.
"I'm at The Sandy Bar and Grille," he finally revealed after what felt like an eternity.
The name sent off warning bells in my head. It wasn't just any bar; it was where Sophia and I had our first date.
"Would you like to join me? I'm sure it'll bring back fond memories."
"Stay where you are," I said through clenched teeth before slamming the bottle down and grabbing my keys. The pain and fear twisting on Sophia’s face as we watched the footage of him destroying my office played in my mind over and over.
I stumbled toward my car while trying to light a cigarette. "Fucking bastard," I murmured to myself. The flame danced in the wind, and a thick plume of smoke filled my mouth as I got in my car. I jammed the key into the ignition, and finally, the engine purred.
I sped down the streets, the cool night air rushing in through the open windows, whipping my hair across my face. I ignored every red light and stop sign; they were nothing but inconvenient suggestions blocking my way down empty streets.
When I finally got to restaurant, the sight of it made my heart ache. Tiki torches lit up its flotsam facade, and laughter spilled from its open doors. It was exactly how it had been on that first date, back when everything was fine, and Sophia's big green eyes smiled at the sight of me.
I stalked in like an animal looking for its prey, my eyes scanning around, seeking out Damien. I spotted him at a table near the back, exaggerated laughter erupting from him as he threw his arm around a blond girl who didn’t even look old enough to drink.
Sauntering over with clenched fists, I towered over him. He was still oblivious to my presence, his hand snaking up her thigh.
"Damien," I said, my voice low but clear enough to be heard over the drowned-out music and conversations of the bar-goers. He stopped as he turned to look at me, his grin faltering.
"Gabriel," he returned, attempting to keep his cool expression. But I could see the unease flicker in his eyes. His angular features hardened into place.
"It's been a while," he said.
"Not long enough," I growled, pulling up a chair and making myself at home. The girl looked between the two of us, her eyes wide and eager to understand.
"So tell me," I began, "why did you do it? What do you want?"
Damien looked uncomfortable for a moment before he shrugged.
"I thought it'd be nice to catch up," he said, matching my neutral tone.
“Why don’t you tell this bitch to leave so we can talk?” I said.
He laughed then; it was a hollow sound devoid of any real joy. With a wave of his hand, he gestured for her to leave. She looked at him for a moment, horrified and humiliated before she quickly got up, rushing away. It was cruel, but I did her a favor.
"Well, I must say, Gabriel, you certainly have a way with words," he said while pouring two shots from the bottle on the table. He slid the glass toward me, and we drank.
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
For a long moment, he just stared at me, then shrugged. “Okay, sure. Let's get right to it.” He looked up at the ceiling, a thoughtful gleam in his eye. “When did I get here? Let me think.” He said while drumming his fingers on the table, then flashed a smile. “Oh right, I got here the same day you did.”
I laughed in disbelief. “I should have known you would be right behind me,” I said before pouring us each another shot. “Why did you agree to help me fake a diploma to get that job if you were just going to fuck with me anyway?”
He smiled and shook his head. “I owed you one, remember? Besides, it was easy.”
I slid the glass toward him, half of it spilling before coming to a stop by his hand. “How did you know exactly what path to take to get to my office? Why did you destroy it and say my fucking name to the camera?”
He looked up at me from his half-spilled drink with a self-satisfied smirk. “Nikolai,” was all he said.
I scoffed at the name. “That damn Russian works for all of us and none of us,” I said.
Damien nodded. “He may or may not have gotten into your building’s surveillance system and sent me some pictures.”
"You must be really fucking desperate for my attention," I said, my voice laced with a venomous calmness.
He simply shrugged again, his eyes vacant. "What can I say? I miss my big brother, and when you have your heart set on something, well,” he slowly filled up his half-empty shot glass, “you know how it is."
