A DEAL WITH THE BOSSY BILLIONAIRE

Guilt II

Nolan's POV

"Hi, I know I've been a jerk to you, but man, I really need your help. I'm sorry to be all emotional, but I'm in real deep trouble." I left a voicemail for Rowan. How I got his contact was as much of a surprise to me as it would be to him. My desperation had driven me to focus on getting Callu out of my way, which had worked well for five years, thanks to photoshopping myself into deals with Sia.

After a long wait, Rowan called back.

"Hello?" Rowan said.

"Hi, man," I replied.

"Who the hell are you?" Rowan asked, clearly confused. Hadn’t he listened to the voicemail?

"My name is Nolan—the jerk who slept with Sia," I replied.

"Oh! Good to know. Thanks. Bye," Rowan was about to hang up when I screamed, "They know!"

"Who knows?" Rowan asked, now intrigued and shocked.

"I don't know them, but they aren't eco-friendly. They call themselves The Bull," I replied.

"And what does that have to do with me? If you recall, I just came out of a coma. Why would I be interested in your case?" Rowan asked, annoyed.

"Well, not for me, but for Sia," I replied.

"Sia? What does this have to do with her? I haven’t seen her in a long time, and the last time I was conscious, I instructed my half-sister to divorce her," Rowan said.

"Wait, you two aren’t together anymore? Well, that changes a lot. It means you won’t care enough to help. Don’t worry," I replied, hanging up before Rowan could get more involved.

I realized I had placed Sia in great danger, unaware that she was no longer with the big wolf. Even Sienna wasn’t with me anymore; we broke up when I discovered I was just a fling to her and nothing more. It truly sucks to be me. I needed to think fast because I promised Callu that I would introduce him to Rowan, the big boss, after stealing lots of RUD, Rowan’s family’s unique drug.

I wasn’t sure what I was doing—even considering whether to inform Rowan about what was going on—but what if he isn’t the ringleader? What if Sia is in league with the boss or is the boss? It has indeed been a nightmare for me, and I’m not certain this nightmare is going away anytime soon—or maybe I’m just cursed. I took my coat and walked out of my one-room apartment, down the pavement street where all the dumpsters reside. I walked towards the police station to ask for help, even if it meant going to jail and freeing myself from Callu. But karma is a b***h.

Callu has cops on his payroll, and what sucks even more is that in the drug world, I’m presumed to be a middleman. If any of the clients find out I was about to rat them out to the cops and that Sia isn’t Rowan’s girl, I might be looking at spending eternity in a graveyard.

After spending hours hiding by the hotdog mobile shop near the station, a little boy’s ball hit my feet. I picked it up; it was an old ball with lots of stitches and a taste of mud. The little kid ran towards me and asked for his ball. I returned it, chuckling awkwardly, just as a police patrol vehicle pulled over by the hotdog stand.

I wanted to run, but I remembered I had no business with the police and didn’t turn myself in. I waited a few minutes, avoiding eye contact with the cops. After their departure, I ran and took a bus downtown near Chinatown, only to find myself seated next to the wrong person. A young lady in a baseball uniform, her face hidden beneath a cap, had a gun pointed at my groin.

"Good evening, Nolan. How are you?" she asked.

Nervously, I replied, even though I seemed heavily built and intimidating, like a bodyguard. But I was scared because I had gone too far into the dark.

"I'm good, but this doesn’t seem to be a friendly visit."

"I'm just here to keep you in check. I’m a fixer, and because of you, my client's business operation will be compromised. I’ll have no choice but to take you out on a date," she said.

"A date? Is that some new 21st-century joke?" I asked.

"Yeah, a word I use for my victims who are far away from this planet," she said.

"Oh, I see. You meant...," I stuttered when I realized she meant death.

She placed her hand on my shoulder, kissed me on the lips, and said, "The big boss has great plans for you. Just stick to your script, and you’ll be fine."

"And if I don’t?" I asked.

She paused, then replied while retracting her Russian 3mm magazine gun into her hip holster, "Just don’t."

The bus driver halted to let passengers off, and the mysterious lady got off along with five pre-teen kids, all wearing Campbell Arizona Baseball Club uniforms like hers. I wanted to grab her and strangle her to death, but I had a new problem to deal with. A detective hopped on the bus, declared me a most-wanted criminal, cuffed me, and took me to his patrol vehicle.

This doesn’t look good for me. If word gets to Callu that I’m the most wanted man in the U.S., I should be expecting that young lady to put a bullet in my head. Although, I suppose I am the most wanted man—since I accidentally murdered the Arizona governor’s daughter—a guilt that haunts me more than anything and made me want to turn myself in. Ever since I left Sia and became entangled with Sienna, I’ve been living my life as if the devil himself is cooking me in hell.

The governor’s daughter might have been a junkie, but she was the one who brought back my humanity. And although it’s too late—five years in hell, burdened with stupid debts owed to Callu, have turned me into a monster I can’t recognize.

While I was still overwhelmed with guilt in the back seat of the detective’s car, I noticed him signal to someone. Out of nowhere, the detective was shot in the head. By the time I tried to look out the window to see what was going on, we crashed in the detective's car...