Page 51 of Rushed

Julia

February 1st

It’s been almost five months of not knowing myself and my past, but I’ve hit the end of my princess story, or at least as far as I’m willing to go. I’ve been unknown, named, and had a rebirth from the ashes of the phoenix as it were.

The last week has been crazy. I was discharged that night from the hospital. I think that the nurses either fell in love with Rush, or were deathly afraid of him, as I was gone in less than an hour of the doctor checking me over. We got back to the flat and laid in each other’s arms, waiting for the sun to rise. Neither of us want to miss anything more in this life.

Lincoln was back at the gym, and I made a promise to use taxi’s only. No more public transit. He was about to lock me away from the world, but as usual, I had to push him to the edge and I won. I don’t think it hurt either that he found out I had a limo on retainer as Julia Grant.

Jon was able to find out all about me—Julia Grant, that is. She had been listed as missing in the accident, and he was able to get that removed from my record. So within days, I was alive. I actually like that I was gone to a point, and that Keenan was the result, but it’s nice to have an identity now with passport, phone records, and such. Hell, I even have a last name. I’m no longer a single name, like Cher or Madonna.

Today is the first time I’m going to my house and go figure, it’s right across the park at 5thand 72nd. In essence, Lincoln and I have lived across the park from each other all along.

It hadn’t been touched as I own it, and I hadn’t been gone long enough for it to be seized or auctioned off. I’m taking Troy and Jax with me, as I’m sure they’ll be pleasantly surprised by the girl I was, and not the hobo they thought.

The fight is still on for the twenty-fourth of this month, and I’m thoroughly looking forward to it. I’ve also been looking into the court case against Mr. Mick Jackson, and I have a surprise for him after the fight. Lincoln doesn’t want it to interfere with the beating Mick’s about to take and I agree. He deserves some punishment before he’s abused in jail.

I returned to the flat without Lincoln, as I thought it was best I see what condition it was in first. I wasn’t excluding him, but I thought it really made no difference in my life anymore. I’ll be selling the brownstone and moving into his permanently. Hearing the doorbell, I race from the bedroom.

“Coming!” I yell down the stairs of the brownstone, skirting the still dusty piles of mail. They can wait, my friends can’t.

“Come on, Julia. Don’t make me wait!” Oh my God, they brought Charlie.

“Hang on.” I decide to scoot the mail over to the side and reach for the door, unlocking it. “Patience is a virtue, you know.”

“Whoever wrote that wasn’t gay, and waiting on access to your previous life. Now, let me in, love.” Charlie muscles his way past Jax and Troy to stand inside the front foyer with the largest grin imaginable. He brushes off the fresh fallen snow from his coat, his gaze darting around the space.

“Fine, I’ll give you that. Welcome to my home, boys. Ready for a tour?” I’m ecstatic to show them around, as I know they will be in their element. My taste—well, Julia’s taste—was very expensive. Seeing as she had the wealth, and no one else to spend it on, her house was well-endowed.

Charlie places his boots to the side and hangs everyone’s jackets on the hall hook, then bounces from foot to foot like an excited school girl. “Let’s get this show on the road, lady. We had to endure your hobo chic for five months, so let me see the glory that is Julia.”

“Oh, don’t mind me.” Jax shakes out his hair. “I don’t care for the artwork and such, I want to see the closet. I’d heard from a little birdy that you had expensive taste in shoes, and that there are some marvelous samples to be picked over. Lead the way to the shoe garage.” Jackson gives me a double kiss on my cheeks as I point him up to the bedroom. Working at the shoe department in a high-end store has made him fashion conscious and silly about what I had before. I’ve been looking forward to him seeing it more than anything.

“Third floor, Jax,” I yell up, then look towards the man of divine intervention. If it weren’t for Troy sending me to Dangereux, I wouldn’t have met Linc.

“Hey, love. How was he today? Is his form back after eating all of Jim’s cooking?”

“Yeah, it’s back. He’s so gonna take Mick on and fuck his shit up. The only thing left will be what we send up river to Rikers.”

I’ve been going over the files that I left behind. I totally had his case locked up. They’d put it on hold while they re-investigated it, but now that I was back in the land of the living, I was able to get things cleared. On Tuesday, I went and saw my old boss. It seems that their Miami retreat fortuitously made sureallthe partners survived. Once I went over the files, and explained the situation, the case was reopened, and it will be reinstated after the fight.

They’d asked the judge for a stay while it had to be reorganized. Like I’d said to Lincoln, I recognized the good senator that night because I had him down for his indictment, along with his son. If I’d taken a moment or two more to look at him, maybe it would have clicked and my memory would have returned sooner. Knowing that, I would have possibly lost out on all the entertaining and lovely people that are now in my life. It’s not something I would reverse. So I’ll accept the fate and go with what happened. I’m much happier, for sure. The funny thing is, the charges were supposed to have been served on the day of the terrorist attack. I’ve been given permission to be the one serving their arrest warrants. I’m both excited and afraid to be that girl again.

I think after this whole fight, indictment, and court case, I will take a step down from the bar and live my life as a sugar baby to Lincoln. I have enough money of my own stuffed away in stocks, bonds, and securities; not to mention the home I have here and in the islands too. I was a pretty rich bitch.

I follow Charlie into the main dining area a few minutes later to find him stroking each of the frames. He’s in awe of my collection. I knew he would be. After all, the framed art in my office was just the newest in the collection. There were a few more recent up-and-coming artists that I’d coveted, and those were only in my home. So as he passed from room to room, I left him in his glory, grinning like a fool.

Every so often, I’d hear a squeal from upstairs as Jax thumbed through my closet. I couldn’t imagine owning things like Dolce & Gabbana while I was post memory loss, but they were in the closet in fair form. I think my closet could rival that of Carrie’s, and for sure she’d have a hell of a time picking over the older Chanel Haute Couture collection that I adore and own.

“Oh my God!” I hear from the top of the stairs. “I see we didn’t need to fill your Chanel line. You have more here than I imagined. Charlie, come see this woman’s closet! You’ll pee yourself.”

Hearing Charlie skid through the house, racing up the stairs, he too squeaks and squeals.

“Come on,” I say, as I lead Troy to the kitchen. As the two of us head off to the back for vodka martinis, the others flit around like happy harpies, looking at their bobbles and jewels. I feel at peace. I know they earned the fun, what with my horrific attire during the past few months. They took on the project, and made me better for it. They seemed to know all along I was that girl, the one who could accept and enjoy beautiful things.

Julia and Keenan were syncing. I was determined to find a connection and level ground for them to coexist on. My new family was worth every second of the joy I deserved.

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