Page 86 of A Simple Reminder

Her words make me chuckle. I can picture her now, sitting cross-legged on her bed, papers and books scattered everywhere, her nose scrunched up in frustration.

Me

Hate it all you want, Sunshine. I know you’ll crush it.

Sunshine

That’s the plan.

What about you? Enjoying the club?

I glance around, laughter and shouts rising above the music. My smile fades a little. The night feels hollow without her here.

Me

It’s fine. Not the same without you

I hesitate, staring at the screen, debating whether to hit send. Before I can make a decision, a voice cuts through the thrum of music, shouting my name from the top of the stairs. I glance up, spotting the two men—and three women I definitely didn’t invite—waving in my direction, their figures silhouetted against the flashing lights. Showtime.

We shake hands, diving straight into business. There are countlessif’sandbut’s, additions and subtractions, but we’re so close to agreeing. I focus on the details, forcing myself to ignore the noise, the crowd, and my pounding headache. They’ve been throwing back drinks—seven each, at least—and the girls, equally drunk, are giggling at every word. I’ve had my fair share, too, enough to feel the dull throb building at my temples.

Just finish this,I tell myself.Seal the deal, and you’re done.I’ll leave, head straight to Sophie’s apartment. She must be finished studying by now. The thought of her—the way her face lights up when she sees me—makes me smile like a lovesick puppy.

“What are you smiling at, handsome?” One of the women sways in front of me, her tiny, glittering dress barely covering anything. She leans closer, her perfume too sweet, too heavy. And there goes my smile.

“We bring the entertainment, Liam. You can thank us later.” Jeremy, one of the investors, grins, slouched back on the sofa while the girl in his lap sucks on his neck. The other man—blue suit—laughs and raises his glass. I never caught his name. Jeremy’s always been the one handling things, the main point of contact. This guy? Just another suit with deep pockets.

I don’t know when this transformed into a brothel, but here we are.Just a little longer. I can hold on a little longer.

Jeremy claps his hands, and the drinks are replaced with something darker. The black glass table is cleared, and before I realize what’s happening, lines of white powder are lined up neatly on its surface. My stomach sinks.Fuck.

Careful not to offend, I lean back, trying to mask my unease. The men act like this is a favor like they’re offering me some great opportunity, and if I don’t look like I want to be involved, I know it’ll backfire. If they feel insulted, this deal is dead. And so is my chance to prove myself.

The girls go first, giggling as they take turns rolling up euro bills with practiced ease. The men follow, snorting the lines without hesitation. I grip the armrest of the sofa, my hand twitching, and I pray silently,Do all of it. Don’t leave one for me, please.

No such luck. The man in the blue suit finishes his lines, then turns to me, holding out the rolled-up bill. ”Your turn,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

I hesitate, my heart pounding. Images flash in my mind—Sophie’s face, the stories she’s told me about her father. My grip tightens on the armrest.No. This isn’t me.

“Come on, Liam,” the man snaps, impatience creeping into his voice. ”It’s your turn.”

I take the bill from his hand, my movements stiff.One time won’t hurt. One time won’t harm.My fingers twitch as I lean forward.This is business. This is about proving myself. Sometimes you do things you don’t want to.My mind chants the words like a mantra, trying to drown out the guilt rising like bile in my throat.

I snort the line. The burn hits immediately, sharp and bitter, making my eyes water. The girl nearest to me claps her hands in delight and plops herself onto my lap, laughing. “See? I knew you’d be fun,” she says, draping an arm around my neck. Her giggles grate on me, her perfume suffocating.

Her touch makes my skin crawl. I reach up, removing her hand firmly, resting mine on the back of the sofa instead. My fingers twitch, opening and closing as I fight the urge to push her off entirely.

“None of that,” I say stiffly, forcing a tight smile, hoping it’s enough to dissuade her. She doesn’t move.

“So, what do you say? Do we have an agreement?” My voice is louder than necessary, cutting through the sound of their drunken laughter and make-out sessions.

Both men glance at each other and then nod. “We do,” Jeremy says, reaching out his hand.

THANK GOD.

Relief floods me as I shake it firmly, then the other’s.Yes. I did it.

The relief doesn’t last. It morphs into something far worse—shame, disgust, and a choking fear that wraps around my chest.

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