Art of Misalignment

Chapter 38 Midnight Flames

The chairs were flipped up on the tables. A dented metal bucket sat in front of him, already half full of ash.

Nancy came out from the back, a gray rag over her shoulder. She looked at the clock, then at him.

“We closed an hour ago, Liam,” she said flatly. “You can’t just sit here in the dark.”

“Wait,” Liam said. “Get me a drink first. Something strong.”

Nancy paused, then nodded and poured him a whiskey. As she set the glass down, Liam’s phone rang. It was Evan.

Liam answered. “Hey… yeah, I’m at The Blue Note. Come meet me. We’ll grab some late-night food. Bring Nancy too — she’s here.”

Evan’s voice came through the speaker. “Is Lina with you guys?”

Nancy overheard and let out a short laugh. “How come everyone’s asking about Lina tonight? She’s off today.”

Liam ended the call and took a long sip of the whiskey. The burn felt good. For the first time in hours, the noise in his head quieted just a little.

The heavy oak door slammed open. Evan marched in.

Nancy walked over, wiping her hands on a rag. “ I’m starving. Let’s get some late-night food.”

Liam pushed the bucket away. “Yeah… fine.”

The three of them stepped out into the damp night and walked to a small 24-hour diner a block away. They slid into a booth. Nancy sat right next to Evan, her shoulder brushing his.

Evan shifted uncomfortably, scooting a little away.

Nancy smiled and leaned in again. “So, Evan, you still doing that gallery thing? Or did you finally get a real job?”

Evan cleared his throat, cheeks turning pink. He tried to move away again, but the booth was small. “Uh… still at the gallery.”

Liam stared at the menu without really seeing it. His mind was empty.

Evan leaned forward. “Liam, listen. I talked to a couple of the investors today. Something feels off. A few of them are pushing really hard, asking weird questions. We need to be careful who we let in.”

Liam shrugged, eyes still on the menu. “Doesn’t matter.”

Nancy laughed lightly and rested her arm along the back of the booth, her fingers almost touching Evan’s shoulder. “Come on, boys.

It’s late. Let’s talk about something fun. Evan, you ever been to that new rooftop bar downtown? The one with the crazy lights?”

Evan blushed harder and shifted again, trying to create space. “No… not really.”

Nancy kept talking, chatting about random things — the weather, a bad customer from earlier, a funny story about Lina. Every few sentences she leaned closer to Evan, her knee brushing his under the table.

Evan kept glancing at Liam, then at Nancy, clearly flustered but too polite to say anything.

Liam just ordered coffee and stared out the window. The warnings, the flirting, the noise — none of it reached him.

The humid night air felt like a wet blanket as Liam, Evan, and Nancy stepped out of the diner.

"Liam! Hey!"

Dylan scrambled toward them, dragging a trembling Ada by the hand. He was a mess—sweaty, frantic, looking like he’d been run over. "Liam... where’s Maya? Her phone’s dead. I can’t find her."

Liam didn’t even break his stride. He looked at the kid—the drain on his life—and let out a dry, jagged laugh. "Not my problem, Dylan. I’m out."

Dylan blinked, his face going pale. "Out? What are you talking about? Where is she?"

"She’s with my cousin, Ethan," Liam said, his voice flat with defeat. "Up in the penthouse. Go try your luck there."

The panic left Dylan’s face instantly, replaced by a sharp, predatory calculation. Ethan Gill. That meant real money. Without a word, Dylan gripped Ada’s arm and vanished into the shadows.

The next morning, the doors to Ethan’s penthouse hissed open. Dylan stood on the white marble, his sneakers looking like trash against the decor. Maya walked out in a crimson silk robe—something that cost more than Liam’s entire studio.

"Maya," Dylan rushed her, his voice a practiced, pathetic whine. "Thank God. You have to help me."

Maya’s expression went cold. "What did you do, Dylan?"

"It was a sure thing, I swear," Dylan stammered, his eyes darting around the room. "But the table turned. I owe Josh Carter again. Three-fifty. They’re gonna kill me."

"Three hundred and fifty thousand?" Maya’s voice cut through the room. "Are you kidding me? Liam wrecked his life to clean up your last mess, and you went right back to the floor? You’re a parasite."

"I’m sorry!" Dylan dropped to his knees, grabbing her robe. "But you’re with Ethan now. He’s a billionaire. That’s pocket change to him. Just ask him. Please."

Footsteps echoed down the hall. Ethan walked in, swirling a glass of bourbon. He looked bored, his white shirt crisp and perfect.

"Sounds like we have a stray," Ethan said, his voice smooth and mocking.

Maya stepped back from Dylan. She looked at Ethan, her anger instantly turning into a quiet, desperate submission. "Ethan... he owes Josh three hundred and fifty. Can you... do something?"

Ethan took a slow sip. He looked at Dylan on the floor like he was a bug, then back at Maya.

"I don't give handouts, Maya," Ethan said. His East Coast accent was sharp. "I make investments. I can kill that debt with a thirty-second phone call. But nothing in this room is free."

He stepped closer, pinning her with his gaze. "If I pay this, your brother is done. He works for me. "

"Yes! Anything!" Dylan scrambled to agree. "Whatever you want, Mr. Gill."

"And you, Maya," Ethan murmured, his hand grazing her jaw. "You’ll be handling some 'private' tasks for me. No negotiating. Do we have a deal?"

Maya felt the air leave her lungs. She looked at Ethan’s effortless power, then at her shivering brother. She let go of the last piece of herself.

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes going dark. "Whatever you want."