Forgetting August (Lost & Found) (26 page)

Read Forgetting August (Lost & Found) Online

Authors: J. L. Berg

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Contemporary, #New Adult & College, #Romantic Suspense, #Contemporary Fiction, #Mystery & Suspense, #Fiction, #New Adult, #Contemporary Romance, #Suspense

BOOK: Forgetting August (Lost & Found)
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That sounded like a better option.

“That would definitely make it a memorable day, but no. Not today; sorry. This is just where we’re going to grab lunch.”

“Really—you shouldn’t have.” I laughed, wondering where in the world we could possibly eat around here. I didn’t see any restaurants, unless you counted the convenience store on the street.

I wasn’t a high-maintenance girl by any means, but I was averse to food poisoning and those nasty hot dogs in the window of the run down store looked like they’d been there since Bush was in office.

The first time.

“Come on, oh ye of little faith,” he said, opening his car door with a grin that basically told me I was a big chickenshit. Taking a deep breath, I pushed my own door open and waltzed out with my head held high. We met on the curb.

“Where to?” I asked, acting far more confident than I felt. We’d gone from my version of the happiest place on earth to the ghetto and I was trying to figure out how this worked into my best day ever.

But I took his hand and followed. Because I trusted him. Finally.

We walked to a little apartment complex a block down. It reminded me a lot of the shoebox hole in the wall I’d rented the year I met August. The one I’d been too afraid to show him. The one he’d never judged me for.

The place I fell in love with him.

There were no curtains in the windows here. Just bars. Rows and rows of bars. It reminded me of a prison—a real one, and I wondered if the people who lived there felt the same way. Jails weren’t the only forms of imprisonment. Sometimes life could feel just as cold and endless as those cold metal bars.

I remember staring out through my ratty curtain windows, way back when, wondering if I’d ever find a home of my own—someplace worth wanting. I’d worked a dead end job with no way out and all I saw were barricades and closed doors ahead of me. August had shown me there was more to life than a pile of no’s. He’d taught me there could be kindness in the eyes of others and if I wanted to make more of myself—I could.

Even if it was just as a barista at a coffee shop.

He’d always been happy with me the way I was…until money had driven him to want more. More from life and more from me. Now he was different, and all I saw were pieces of the old August finding their way back again—when life had just been him and me and nothing else.

It gave me hope for the future.

Hope for our future.

I held his hand as we climbed the steps to the third floor. There was no elevator, which made me wonder how they managed to get away with such out-of-date construction. But looking around at the leaky ceilings and the worn carpeting, I remembered what it was like to live in a place like this.

The forgotten zone.

No one cared whether your water worked or if roaches scattered along your floor at night. This was where the poor lived—where they were lost in the system and left to their own devices.

I remembered it well.

It made my heart bleed.

Four doors down, August finally came to a stop. My palm felt wet in his hand as I nervously pulled it away to wipe against my jeans. I waited as he knocked on the door, standing slightly behind him but to the side, as if that made some sort of difference in my pride factor.

It didn’t.

I was still practically cowering.

A former street rat. Cowering.

How far I’d come.

A large old man opened the door. His gray hair and long wiry mustache looked strangely familiar to me. As I gazed into his dark brown eyes, trying to pinpoint where I’d seen his face before, I heard his gruff Brooklyn accent. “You August?”

“Yes sir,” August answered.

“Come on in,” the man replied, stepping aside to let us through the stripped–down, ugly door. As soon as I passed over the threshold and my nose came in contact with the smells wafting through that apartment, I knew exactly where I’d met the man before.

My eyes flew over to August.

“How?” I managed to say, as I turned back to the old line cook who’d once owned my favorite burger spot.

It had closed down years ago and was never heard of again.

“Sarah,” August said. “When she was over the other day for dinner, I happened to show her some of the pictures of you at the burger place and she recognized it, too. Only—unlike you, she knew the owner’s name. Once I had a name, he wasn’t too hard to track down.”

“Strangest call I’ve ever got,” the old man said, shaking his head as he turned over a burger on the large electric skillet he was using.

“I’m Everly.” I walked over and held out my hand. I watched as he did the same, wiping off the grease on a towel that he’d slung over his shoulder first.

“Joey,” he replied. “I remember you. The little redhead who used to come in every month. Twice if it was your birthday,” he said with a grin. “I remember Mr. Moneybags over there as well. Don’t forget what we agreed on,” he warned, which felt a little less threatening with the smile still plastered on his weathered face.

“No sir,” August replied. “I intend on paying you every last dime.”

“I don’t doubt that. Now what do you two want on your burgers?” he asked, making me grin back at him like a damn fool.

“You’re cooking for us?” I asked.

“Well, what do you think you’re doing here, sweetheart? Did you think you were coming to this part of town just for the scenery? Your man said you wanted my burgers for your birthday. He’s paying me a hefty sum, so that’s what I’m doing.”

“You’re insane.” I laughed, stepping forward to run my hands up August’s neck.

“Maybe a little,” he said with a wink. “Tell the man what you want!”

“Okay, okay!” I answered with sheer excitement, listing everything I wanted on my epic birthday burger. Joey just nodded and smiled, not bothering to write anything down as he took the order. He never had. None of the waitresses in his restaurant had ever sent back handwritten orders when I’d visited. Everything had been called out and yelled back for accuracy.

“Hey Joey—why did you close he restaurant?” I asked.

He stared down at the burgers, silently flipping them as I watched the years seem to pass by his tired eyes. “I didn’t choose to shut it down. It just happened—like so many things in life. Big chain came in down the street, customer loyalty dropped and before long I was behind on rent. The restaurant business ain’t easy. There’s always something out there bigger and shinier, ready to take away your livelihood. That place was my heart and soul. I haven’t been able to get back on my feet ever since.” He took a deep breath, looking up as his tired eyes blinked several times.

“But it’s good to know I’m missed. At least by a few.”

“You are,” I replied. “There was no place quite like yours.”

“It was a good little spot,” he agreed. “I drive past it every once in a while—there’s a damn frozen yogurt place there now. Looks like someone vomited the rainbow all over it.”

I couldn’t help the snort that escaped my throat. I heard August chuckle next to me as we watched Joey finish wrapping up our burgers and fries. August and I thanked him for the meal, and I as we left August handed him a fistful of cash. Joey didn’t bother counting it, which meant he either trusted us or didn’t care. I knew it was the former. Somehow the old man who lived in the apartment that felt more like a prison than a home had come to trust us in the few minutes we’d grown to know each other.

“Joey, I want you to have this,” I said, reaching for the watch that adorned my wrist. He looked down as I unclasped it and slid it over my petite hand.

“Kind of big on you, isn’t it?” he asked, looking at the large silver watch.

“Yes, it was given to me, and I just don’t think it’s a good look. I thought you might like it and if not, maybe you could use it toward your burger joint fund.”

“Burger joint? How do you know I even want to go back in business?” he asked, looking down at me as his fingers ran over the shiny metal of the Rolex watch.

“Because you wouldn’t look so damn happy when you cooked them if it wasn’t still your passion,” I answered.

He swallowed deeply, as if he were holding back some deep emotion.

“Thank you, Everly…August. Thank you very much.”

“Good luck, Joey,” August replied.

I waved good-bye and we stepped out the door, burgers and fries in hand, and as I looked around, the tattered floors and dingy walls didn’t look nearly as scary anymore.

If Joey and I could survive this life, there was hope for the rest of them.

As long as we didn’t forget.

*  *  *

“Do you have a place in mind to eat these?” I asked, peeking into the bag as the aroma began to fill the car. My mouth was already watering and I was nearly shaking with hunger as I tried to discipline myself from snagging several of the fries and shoving them into my mouth all at once.

I couldn’t believe he’d found Joey and had him make me a burger and fries.

In his house.

On an electric griddle and a tiny deep fat fryer that anyone could pick up from Walmart. It made me wonder why his burgers were amazing and mine were just all right when I had all of the same equipment in my own kitchen.

“Not really—I thought of a few scenic locations along the water, but if you have something better in mind, let me know.”

“Turn here,” I instructed, and he took a sharp curve off the freeway.

A couple of interchanges later, we were pulling up to my spot—the secret spot I went to when I wanted to be alone. Alone from everything and nothing at all. It’s where I went when Ryan became overwhelming with talk of school and careers…when Sarah and I bickered and even when work became too stressful.

Even a barista can feel overworked from time to time.

It had always been my place—until August. He had been the only other person I’d invited here. And now I wanted to do so again.

As he shut the engine off, he looked up at the massive bridge in the background. “I have a picture of the two of us here,” he said, lifting his wallet from his back pocket. He pulled out a tattered old photo, obviously worn from being shoved in his wallet, but it was one I recognized immediately.

“That’s an old one,” I said, smiling, as my hair dipped down in front of me. I leaned in closer to get a better look, flipping over the photo to see the words I’d written so long ago. “We were babies,” I laughed, looking at the date.

“Will you tell me about this day?” he asked as we dug into the food, not willing to risk the possibility of it getting any colder.

“I think we’d been dating for a few months—maybe longer. We were already head over heels in love. I swear it was that way from the minute I saw you,” I explained candidly, a tiny moan escaping my mouth as I bit into the burger for the first time.

He chuckled, watching with amusement as I ate the glorious food with enthusiasm.

“I’ve been coming here since I was a child. Before I was old enough to be traveling alone, I was riding buses and taking BART to get over to this very spot.”

“Why here?”

“I don’t know. I was in the car one day with my random foster parent of the moment, and I remember we drove past here. I’d of course seen the Golden Gate Bridge a hundred times before then, having grown up in the city, but from this angle, it looked immense—colossal, like it could engulf the entire ocean. It seemed otherworldly, and at that time in my life, I needed something kind of magical and beyond the realm of what was considered normal.”

“So that was here,” he asked.

“For my eight-year-old mind, yeah. It was.”

He looked up at it, the shiny red cables stretching from one end of the bay to another. “I can see it.”

I hid my embarrassed smile and continued. “So, after we’d been dating a while, I decided you were cool enough to bring to my magical spot.”

“And now I guess I’m cool enough again?” he asked softly, his eyes meeting mine.

“Very,” I answered, food forgotten.

“And what do cool people do in a place like this?” he asked.

My fingers slowly went down his chiseled chest and I bit my bottom lip.

“Very magical things,” I answered, pushing him back and showing him just how enchanted a bridge could be.

I
no longer missed the memories.

Life with Everly had completed me.

Completed my existence.

For the first time since I’d awakened in that lonely hospital bed, I wasn’t searching for something that was lost to me.

With her, I had found it all.

Everything was falling into place. I could see our future, feel it…grasp it with my fingertips. Life was moving forward and I finally had everything I’d been searching for.

Until it all slipped away, so fast I could do nothing but watch it all crumble around me like sand.

*  *  *

Looking over the giant case of desserts at the local bakery, I tried to make a snap decision and failed.

After weeks of sheer bliss with Everly, I still had no idea what her favorite dessert was.

I guess I could add that to the pile of things left to discover. It had suddenly become my favorite pastime.

“Can I help you?” the old man behind the counter asked. He had kind eyes and bits of flour streaked across his weathered face. Based on the lack of employees and size of the place, I was guessing he was the owner and wore just about every hat under the roof.

As he arched back, stretching his tired old body, I looked over the large case of desserts again, wondering how much time it took him to make each and every one of them by hand. Every single day.

“What would you recommend for a coffee lover?” I asked, with a solid grin as I surveyed his life’s work. Each dessert was like a piece of art, and I could see the proud gleam in his eyes as he spoke.

“Oh, well—you can’t go wrong with chocolate,” he responded, pointing to several different cakes, cookies, and brownies that would go especially well.

“I’ll take them all,” I said. His eyes lit up in delight.

“Yes, sir!” he answered eagerly, and got to work on boxing up half the store—because that’s just about what I’d ordered.

But I didn’t care, because tonight Everly and I were celebrating. After submitting my work to several galleries around the city and hearing nothing for weeks, I’d given up hope. I was a new talent—never heard of and really, why would anyone want to take me on? It had been a risky long shot, but after sitting at home for months on end without any other employable skills, it was one I’d needed to take.

Finally, I’d received the phone call I’d been waiting for. A small, local gallery wanted to display a few of my photographs—on a trial basis—but if they sold, it could work out to be something more permanent.

It was a beginning, a start for something real, and I couldn’t wait to share it with Everly. I couldn’t wait to share everything with Everly.

With my purchases in hand, I left a very happy bakery owner behind and headed for home. Everly would be reaching the end of her shift soon and I wanted to have everything just perfect before she got there.

Summer had arrived without much fanfare in San Francisco. The weather had warmed slightly and the fog had grown thicker, but other than the increase in tourism, not much had changed. It was what made California so desirable—the total lack of seasons. There was no snow to plow, no leaves to rake, and when summer came to the bay, people continued to wear t-shirts and jeans through August, as if nothing changed.

What kept me here, though, was the view—the never ending coastal views. I would have easily given up every penny I had if it weren’t for the panoramic coastline that greeted me every single time I walked in my front door. I may have been a giant asshole back in the day, but I’d managed to get one thing right and that was this house.

Fumbling with packages and cake boxes, I made my way through the front door and set everything in the kitchen. Knowing I had time left before Everly got off work, I grabbed a beer and stepped out on the deck that overlooked the Pacific.

The waves crashed and unfurled below, and the salty spray of the ocean filled my lungs with a sense of peace I’d never thought I’d find. This house finally felt like a home to me. It finally felt like it belonged to me, rather than to a stranger.

Walking in here for the first time all those months ago was like stepping into a life I didn’t want. How could I wake up with the same name and yet be so completely different?

I’d known from the first moment I saw her appear in my hospital room. I didn’t want to be the August Kincaid she remembered, but I had no idea who I wanted to become, so somewhere in the middle I’d managed to find a common ground. I was still a work in progress, but so far, I was digging the life I’d discovered in the midst of it all.

“Remember when I helped you move in here, and we stood out here like fucking kings on a castle tower?” An unfamiliar voice shot through the crashing tide.

Fuck, I really needed to learn to lock the damn door.

My head whipped around to meet my intruder face to face. He was tall, well-built, with glaring brown eyes and a menacing sneer that might pass for a smile. His wavy black hair matched his tailored suit perfectly. He oozed money and sophistication, probably wearing more money in fashion on his body at the moment than most people made in a year.

I didn’t say a thing, just kept my eyes trained on him. No need to give up all my cards at once.

“No greeting? No words of welcome for your old buddy and partner Trent?”

So this was the guy that had been blowing up my phone for the last several weeks. The troublemaker my attorney had mentioned. He was a persistent little shit.

“You called a few times,” I said absently, baiting him for more information.

“Well, what the hell was I supposed to do, August? You’re released from the hospital and never bother to call? For months? I have to find out from our fucking attorney that you’re up and walking around. Do you know how that makes me look? How that makes
us
look?”

“I can’t imagine.”

Because, really—I honestly couldn’t. But it was nice of him to visit me in the hospital. Oh wait…

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he roared, stepping into my space, his voice filled with venom and ire. “Do you think this is all some sick joke? You did seem to think the world revolved around you, didn’t you? Well, let me tell you something, asshole—it doesn’t. While you were taking an extended siesta, the rest of us were busting our fucking asses, and it’s time you pay your dues.”

Dues? Suddenly something clicked into place as memories and conversations aligned. Everly had once said I’d quit my job because of an old fraternity brother, although she’d never mentioned his name. She’d said that after I went to work for him, I was never the
same.

No words of welcome for your old buddy and partner Trent?

Shit.

No matter how far I reached, it seemed the glaring truth of my past would always find me, no matter what I did with my new life.

“Look—Trent, is it?” I said, beginning the opening line to the speech I’d delivered time and time again to the elite crowd of lawyers and businessmen I’d associated with so long ago. Once they discovered the August of old was dead and buried, now hidden beneath layers of amnesia with little to no hope of being found, they usually moved on quickly. The new August, who spoke of photography instead of stock portfolios and who would rather hike instead of attend a gala function, was nowhere near their speed, and even though I had the money, I wasn’t worth the time.

And I was just fine with that.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Trent lashed out, his words like talons directed solely at me.

“I don’t know who you are, but if you let me explain myself, it might clear some things up,” I said calmly, before proceeding. I told him everything.

Well, mostly everything. I told him the reader’s digest version, including the mugging, my coma, and the resulting loss of memory.

“So you have no memory of anything?” he asked, seeming almost dumbfounded by the news.
Almost.

“Nothing before that night; no.”

“I’m sorry, man.” His bent head shook, as if he felt pity for me.

“It’s okay. You didn’t—” I stopped myself as I watched his shoulders begin to shake. My mind couldn’t process what my eyes were seeing until his gaze met mine and I heard it.

Laughter.

He was laughing. At my pain, at my suffering and all the loss I’d endured.

“You misunderstood, buddy. I wasn’t apologizing for your misfortune. I was apologizing because things are about to get a hell of lot worse.”

My expression hardened as my fists tightened. “How’s that,
buddy
?” I asked, throwing the familiar term back in his face.

“See, you and I have a partnership. It’s one of those things that works a lot like marriage—a ‘’til death do us part’ type of thing—not that I’ve tried that particular thing out—too many fish in the sea and all. But I’ve heard it works the same way. And well, here’s the thing. You’re not dead.”

I got up into his face, close enough to see the whites of his teeth as his cold, vicious smile reflected back at me. “In case you weren’t listening, let me give you the abbreviated version so your little brain can comprehend it. I don’t remember a goddamned thing about my former life, including but not limited to a so-called partnership with you. So forgive me if I’m not jumping up and down at the idea, but I think I’ll decline.”

“Jesus, you really are a total blank, aren’t you?” he said, stepping back, his eyes wide with curiosity. “Amazing. For a second I thought you were just playing me, but there really is nothing of you left. Just nothing.”

“Now do you understand?” I asked, glaring at him.

“Yes. I understand perfectly,” he smiled widely, rubbing his hands together. “It’s time to get to work.”

“I’m not working for you!” I roared. The words exploded from my mouth like a cannon. “Now get the fuck out!”

He didn’t budge. The asshat didn’t move a single inch as his arms slowly slinked into the pockets of his thousand-dollar suit, and he began to swagger around the deck. I watched as he took the beer I’d opened before stepping out here, and slowly brought it to his own lips.

“You will work for me, and here’s why,” he casually said as he set the beer down on the rail. His voice was eerily calm, in vast contrast to the crashing tide below. “Before your little incident, turns out you owed me money. A lot of money, actually.”

“I’ll write you a check,” I interjected, which only made him laugh harder.

“I don’t think you’re quite grasping the concept here. So let me dumb it down for
you
. You may think you’re on the up and up because you have a few million stashed away in the bank. That’s chump change to what we dealt with on a daily basis. Did you ever wonder why you could afford a place like this?”

I had actually, but like so many things in my past, I’d just let it go.

Obviously that had been a big mistake.

“The reason we could afford shit like this house you’re standing in and the crazy huge yacht I own is because we never keep it in one place for a long period of time. We keep our money hidden, from the prying, investigating eyes of Big Brother. It works. Or at least it did until you decided to peace out for two years, leaving behind a huge debt and no one but me to clean up after you. And I hate messes.”

“How much?” I gritted through my teeth.

“Fifty million dollars.”

I tried to school my emotions, temper my expression, tone down my temper. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” I asked.

“Well, you see, that’s the tricky part of amnesia, isn’t it? But I guess I could always go to your lovely girlfriend and ask. She was around back then, wasn’t she? What was her name? Everly? She was a hot piece of ass, if I remember correctly.”

He obviously hadn’t just been calling. He’d been watching—waiting for the right opportunity to ambush me with this information—and now he knew he’d hit the right button to make me flinch. The right nerve that just might cause me to cave. I had no idea who this man was and what he was capable of, but based on the way Everly cringed at the mere mention of his name and his maniacal laugh, I wasn’t taking any chances.

“What do you want?” I asked, knowing he had me. Knowing I’d do anything to keep Everly safe, even if it meant giving up everything.

“You always were a little sensitive when it came to her,” he said, a mischievous grin on his face. “You’re going to come back to work, like a good little boy, and we’ll talk about this amnesia no more. No one ever needs to hear about it. As far as your clients are concerned, you took an extended vacation after your very traumatic hospital stay, and are now well rested and ready to make them as much fucking money as humanly possible.”

“And when they discover I have no skills as a stockbroker whatsoever and lose every single penny of their well-earned fortune?” I asked, each word coming out like a dark staccato note, drilling me deeper into hell.

“They won’t know their head from their own ass, because I’ll be pulling all the strings. As soon as they discover the much loved August Kincaid is finally back, your beloved clients will come rushing back to us with open arms, and we’ll be flooded with so much fucking business we won’t know what to do.”

“So, I’m just your puppet?” I asked, my eyes darkening as his lightened with glee.

“Yes. You see, you were always the face and I was the brains. People don’t like me much, which is why I brought you on board. You, with the good looks and the wholesome ideas. You were exactly what I needed. People believed you when you told them you would make them money, even when we were robbing them blind. And the amazing part…they just kept coming back for more.”

His bone-chilling calm as he spoke about robbing people of their life savings was eerily scary. And the fact that I’d once helped him do this, with the same smile on my face, made me ill.

“You know the front door is open?” Everly’s voice cut through the tension as my eyes went wide with panic. I turned just in time to see her step onto the patio, her face bright with life until she met Trent’s eyes and then everything seemed to drain from her like water leaking from a sieve.

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