Page 22

22

MADDOX

I should have just opened the shop late, spent the morning with Alissa.

I’ve had a few people come in, and even one sale, but nothing worth a few extra hours with the woman of my dreams.

God…

Since when do I use the phrase “the woman of my dreams?”

I’ve never been a romantic. I’ve always been the type of guy who’s avoided a relationship in favor of focusing all of my energy on the shop. I’ve had one real relationship in the past, and one… Well, another affiliation with a woman that transcends definition.

I occasionally meet a woman at Aces, have some fun fooling around with her, and then leave it at that. Whenever I’ve taken a woman home, I’ve always been up-front about our encounter being strictly casual and unlikely to lead to a relationship. She’s usually just as happy as I am to keep those boundaries in place.

I always figured that if a relationship was meant to be, it would land in my lap.

And three days ago, Alissa Maravilla walked into my shop.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since.

The mere thought of her, of what we did last night, is enough to get all my juices flowing.

Fuck. Could I truly be falling in love with her?

I never thought it would be possible after…

After her.

One of the only other women who could rouse Mad Maddox from his slumber. My only true capital-R relationship. The woman who fucked me over when I was at my lowest point.

Laurie Caulkins.

* * *

Everyone in the Chicago political sphere made it to the funeral.

They’re supposed to be here. It’s their duty. You attend the funerals of people who held important offices, regardless of how unpopular they were at the end of their term, regardless of whether your political party was at odds with them.

And every political party was at odds with my father in the final year of his term.

He was supposed to win reelection in a landslide.

Instead, he threw it all away with some foolish legislation that no one understood. His advisors begged him not to, but all their counsel fell on deaf ears.

Just like they told him, he lost.

And within another year, he was dead. That last year of his mayorship took its toll on his physical and mental health. The press had a field day, and there was conjecture that his death might be ruled a suicide. The coroner laid those rumors to rest. Heart attack, the kind where you’re alive one minute and dead the next. It was quick and painless, in his sleep.

Probably a better fate than a lot of the people sitting right here in this cathedral—pretending to be focused on the program so they don’t have to socialize with their political enemies—thought he deserved.

I haven’t seen Dad since I left home a week after I turned eighteen. Mom called me every so often to check in, but she always seemed to do so when Dad was out of the house. He never visited the shop, but he cashed the checks I sent him every month with his share of the profits. I thought about holding onto a check once to see if he’d be forced to come to the shop to collect. He’d see everything I’d done—what I’d sacrificed a promising political career for.

But I knew that I wouldn’t get the reaction I’d be hoping for. So I always paid on time and in full.

Mom isn’t here. She’s become something of a recluse since her divorce from Dad. She scrapes together enough money to live, and I’ve offered to help her, but she refuses any assistance. She rarely takes my calls anymore, and when she does, I can tell that she’s been drinking heavily.

When—or if—the shop takes off, I’ll try to get her the help she needs.

“You okay, babe?” Laurie squeezes my shoulder.

She came with me, and I’m glad to have her here. We started seeing each other soon after I opened the haberdashery. It’s been nearly two years. If my father’s death hadn’t dominated my life the past few weeks, I’d be shopping for engagement rings.

I force a smile. “I’m fine. Just… It’s weird to be here, you know?”

She nods. “Of course. You had a complicated relationship, but he was still your father.”

“He was a decent dad, for the most part. He wasn’t going to win any awards, but he was there for me when it mattered.” I look down. “Until the moment I decided not to steer my life along the pathway he chose for me.”

“I bet he’d be proud of you. What you’ve made that little shop into.”

I scoff. “Unlikely. But it’s a nice thought.” I kiss her cheek. “Thanks for being here. It’s nice to have someone on my side.”

Indeed, I’m something of a pariah in the room. The cathedral is full of state senators and representatives, Chicago city councilmembers, several former mayors. Even a few members of Congress flew in. The governor of Illinois couldn’t make it, but his wife is here.

And all of them hated my father at the end. By proxy, they hate me.

A lot of them were in the room on my eighteenth birthday when I declared my decision to not attend Yale, not pursue my place in the Hathaway dynasty. I can still see them all shifting uneasily in their seats as I made my birthday speech, as my dad ripped me away from the podium.

None of them have greeted me with anything more than a curt handshake and a muttered “Sorry for your loss.”

The funeral proceeds. I zone in and out the entire time. The eulogy is delivered by Macy Hastings, the woman who served as mayor before my dad was elected. He unseated her, and their relationship was always frosty. She manages to speak for twenty solid minutes while not saying a single kind thing about my father.

Finally, the deacon utters the three words I crave to hear every time I’m in a church service.

“Go in peace.”

People stand and silently file out of the church. Dad was cremated, so there is no burial, and there won’t be a reception, either.

I’m glad I came. It was the right thing to do. But right now, all I want to do is go home, have a few drinks, and go to bed. Maybe fuck Laurie’s brains out. The sex we have together is something else. She brings out a wild side of my personality, a version of me that she christened “Mad Maddox.”

We’re about to leave when we’re waylaid by a man with huge black circles under his eyes wearing a black suit with a pink carnation on his lapel.

“Maddox Hathaway?” He stretches his arm out in front of him.

“That’s me.” I weakly shake his hand.

“My condolences, Maddox. My name is Jerry Dorman. I’m your father’s attorney.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Then you must have had your work cut out for you the last couple years.”

He doesn’t react. “I’ve been trying to call you, but I haven’t received a response.”

“Were you calling my old cell? I had to change numbers once my dad kicked me off the family plan. He wouldn’t have had my new number.”

He nods. “Must be it. Anyway, you’re invited to the reading of your father’s will.”

I furrow my brow. “He didn’t leave me anything. He wrote me out of the will when I refused to go into politics.”

“He left you something, or else you wouldn’t be invited.”

I rub at my forehead, sighing. “Fine. When’s the reading?”

“It commences in ten minutes. Since there isn’t a reception scheduled, we’re using the fellowship hall to do the reading.”

“Okay.” I look over at Laurie. “You okay to come to the reading?”

She nods. “Of course, babe.”

Ten minutes later, I’m seated in the cathedral’s fellowship hall, Laurie at my side. The only other people in here are a middle-aged woman in a black mourning gown and an old guy I recognize as Chuck Dodge, who served as Dad’s vice mayor during his three terms.

Mr. Dorman enters, clearing his throat as he walks to the front of the room. “Thank you all for being here. On behalf of the late Mr. Hathaway’s estate, I can tell you how pleased he would be to have you all in this room.”

You all? There are four people in here besides him.

Mr. Dorman reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a document. “The will is brief, so the reading will not take long.” He puts on a pair of reading glasses and recites, “I, Henry Hathaway, being of sound mind and body, do hereby declare this to be my last will and testament, revoking all former wills and codicils heretofore made by me.”

God, his voice is boring. I have to slap myself to keep myself alert as he drones on.

“Section one. Charitable bequest. I direct that seventy-five percent of my liquidated assets be distributed to the Chicago Coalition to End Homelessness, to be used at their discretion in furtherance of their mission to combat homelessness in the city of Chicago.” He nods toward the woman in the black gown. “Mrs. Griffin, once the will is probated, your foundation will receive a little over thirty million dollars.”

The woman stands. “Thank you. The Chicago Coalition to End Homelessness will put the money to excellent use.” She nods to me. “Thank you to all the Hathaways for this generous gesture.”

Generous gesture, my ass. Half of the people who are on the streets of Chicago today are there because my father screwed the city’s economy so bad. This is just a last-ditch attempt to remove some of the tarnish from his legacy. But regardless of his motives, it’s still a good cause.

Only seventy-five percent of his assets are going to the charity, though. I can’t help but wonder where the other twenty-five is going. Not to my mom, or she’d be in the room. To Chuck, maybe? What the hell did he do to deserve it?

I can’t imagine any of it is going to me.

Then again, I’m in the room for something.

Mrs. Griffin takes her seat, and Mr. Dorman continues reading the will.

“Section two. Bequeaths to my son, Maddox Hathaway. I bequeath to my son, Maddox Hathaway, my 1967 Rolls-Royce Phantom V, to be his property outright and without restriction.”

I raise my eyebrows. “He left me his car?”

Mr. Dorman nods. “And it’s in excellent shape, Mr. Hathaway. It’s parked in a garage not far from here. I’ll hand you the keys once we’re finished. No need to wait for probate as you’ll get it anyway, and someone needs to take care of it.”

Damn. I wasn’t expecting that.

Mr. Dorman continues. “I further bequeath to Maddox my membership in the exclusive club known as Aces Underground, with the condition that my estate shall pay the required membership fees in perpetuity, ensuring his continued membership.”

What? I’ve never even heard of Aces Underground.

“What the hell is that?” I ask.

“As his will states, it’s an exclusive club downtown. Your father was a member for years, and members are allowed to bequeath their affiliation upon their deaths to their next of kin. I have confirmed with the gentleman who keeps the records that your name is already on their list. I will hand off a packet with directions and other pertinent information your father left behind with your car keys.”

I blink. “Okay.”

I get his Rolls-Royce—which I’m happy to take—and a club membership. Very weird.

Mr. Dorman returns to the will. “Section three. Trust for Maddox Hathaway.”

I perk my ears up.

“I direct that the remaining twenty-five percent of my assets be placed in trust for the benefit of my son, Maddox Hathaway.”

The old bastard actually left me money? But it’s in a trust, which means there are conditions. I’m already over eighteen, so that can’t be it.

“The trustee of said trust shall be my former Vice Mayor, Chuck Dodge, who shall administer the trust in accordance with the following conditions. A, the trust funds shall be released to Maddox Hathaway solely upon his enrollment and subsequent completion of a Bachelor’s degree in Political Science from Yale University. B, the full amount of the trust shall be disbursed to Maddox upon conferral of his degree.”

Of fucking course. The other shoe drops.

He wants me to go to Yale. Restore his fucking legacy. I do the math in my head—the Homeless Coalition lady got thirty million, which was seventy-five percent. That means the trust has a little over ten million for me.

Fuck. That kind of money could change my life.

“I appoint Chuck Dodge as the executor of this will and direct that he carry out its provisions faithfully and diligently. In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and seal this twenty-second day of June, in the year…”

I have to stifle a sarcastic laugh. My birthday is the twenty-first of June. My old man rewrote his will the day after I turned eighteen.

And he didn’t mention Mom. Was he already planning on screwing her over even before his career tanked?

I meet Mr. Dorman at the door. He hands me two envelopes, one with the keys to the Rolls-Royce in them, and another with directions to an obscure alleyway off Randolph and State downtown where I guess this secret club is located.

And then, written under the note in a scribble I recognize as my dad’s handwriting, is the phrase “follow the writing raven through the river of tears.”

“Follow the what through the who?” I look up at Mr. Dorman. “What the hell does this mean?”

Mr. Dorman shrugs. “I don’t ask questions of my clients, Mr. Hathaway. All I can tell you is that your father sealed that envelope himself before securing it in his safe deposit box along with his will.”

I swallow. “He probably went off the deep end toward the end of his life. That last year in office didn’t do his mental health any favors.”

Mr. Dorman’s face remains still. “That’s all I can tell you, Mr. Hathaway.” He whisks out of the room.

Chuck Dodge passes by, handing me his card. “If you decide to meet the condition in your dad’s will to get that remaining money, give me a call.”

He and Mrs. Griffin leave the hall.

Only Laurie and I remain.

She looks up at me, her eyes wide. “So, are you going to do it?”

“Do what?”

She elbows me in the ribs. “You know exactly what, Maddox. Go to Yale, get the money in the trust.”

I rub at my forehead. “He just wants me to restore his goddamned legacy, Laurie. I have no desire to get into politics.”

She shakes her head. “The will didn’t say you have to run for office. You just have to get your degree. The money will be handed over to you the second you have the degree in your hand. You can return to the shop, but you’ll be millions richer.”

“And what do I do in the meantime? Just abandon the shop for four years?” I squeeze my eyes shut and run my fingers through my hair. “I’ve put my blood, sweat, and tears into that shop, and now that my father is gone, I don’t have to give him half my profits anymore. I’m finally free, and even from the grave, he’s trying to rip me away from the only thing in my life that has brought me joy.”

“Maddox.” She rolls her eyes. “You can hire someone to run the shop in your absence.”

“No one can run the shop like I do. Plus, Yale is expensive. I’d have to take loans to get a degree that I’ll never use.”

“The money your father left you will cover those easily once you graduate. You can put the rest of the money into your shop. Into our future.” She runs her hand up and down my arm. “You can even give some to your poor mother. Help her out.”

Fuck. I could help Mom out.

But…

“I just can’t, Laurie. You don’t understand. That shop is me . If I let someone else run it while I’m gone, it’s like handing a baby over to a complete stranger.”

“You could still check in remotely. Fly in every so often if you need to.”

I swallow. “No. I’m sorry, Laurie. It’s not worth the risk. It’s playing right into what my father wants for me.”

Her face reddens. “Maddox, you’re really turning down ten million dollars over fucking pride?”

“I was doing fine yesterday without ten million dollars. I’ll do fine tomorrow.”

Laurie bites her lip. “Fine. Do whatever the hell you want. I’ve been with you the whole way, Maddox. I helped scrub those floors, I went on all those trips to antique stores and men’s outlets. But I can’t stand idly by while you turn down perfectly good money.”

“You can’t mean ? —”

She raises a hand to quiet me. “It’s your precious shop or me, Maddox.”

“Laurie, don’t give me a fucking ultimatum. We’re in love. We’re going to build a life together.”

She wiggles her fingers. “I don’t see a ring on my finger.”

“I was going to start looking for rings, but then Dad dropped dead.”

“Maddox. It’s been two years. Your father has been dead for two weeks. You had plenty of time.” She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath in. “I’m sorry, but it’s over. I’ll text you and we can figure out a time I can pick up my belongings from your place.”

“Laurie—”

But she’s already out the door.

* * *

I never saw her again. She came by a week later to pick up her stuff, which I left outside my front door. I was down in the shop, and she grabbed it.

She dumped me at my father’s funeral.

The only woman I ever loved.

At least until now.

I can’t be sure where things are going to go with Alissa, but she’s the first person since Laurie to bring Mad Maddox out of hibernation.

Well, the first besides…

No. Just no. I’m not going back there.

But any woman capable of awakening that side of me is worth fighting for.

I lost Laurie.

I don’t regret choosing the shop—I love working here, and I would be miserable at Yale—but I still lost her.

I’m not going to make the same mistake with Alissa.