by D. M. Burns
CJ Construction handles all my construction needs because of their reputable and fair work ethics. Their exceptional at what they do but so am I. And what I’m about, first and foremost, is business-always. If that is handled accordingly then all that other shit in between will trickle in later.
Their headquarters are based out of Georgia but do to all the work I’ve sent their way; they had to open another office here. My word of mouth is guaranteed money in the bank. Cass Jackson and Beck Ballard are the only men I trust with this endeavor. They’re also knee-deep in the development of my Atlanta based side chick to The House of Creed, Creed Towers. It’s a beast of a high rise that’s centered right in the heart of downtown Atlanta.
That bankable project is just a steppingstone for a fuck ton of lucrative bankroll to come. What can I say? I like the easy money that comes from real estate. The Georgia project is something that Carson and I have been organizing for over five years now. We stand to generate income from that venture well after his juggling assclown kids-kids have their own circus of performing assclowns. Needless to say, we’ve got big aspirations for business moves out in the peach state.
Having Lincoln pick me up before the sun had time to rise was the plan all along. I slept for a few hours and like always, I’m recharged to full capacity. After a week away from Brea with less than an hour of rest, it was detrimental to my mental status. Apparently, a bedside Brea is now what my body demands in order to sleep. I wasn’t kidding about that traveling bullshit, no more.
Without her, I feel off-centered and unbalanced. In every way you can fathom, I had to have her last night. Just as soon as I moved through the walls of her loft and found her peacefully sleeping, I shredded my clothes as I closed in on what I needed, her. After immersing myself into her sweet depths, I tried to capture her thoughts. I was only able to hear pieces. The white noise from my attempts is starting to drive me insane.
My frustration over my abilities has been mounting these last couple of months. I can clearly hear every god damn thing that I don’t want to know about everyone else around me. But the one thing I crave are her insights for which have been fading away slowly every day. The irony with this silent situation is not lost on me.
Thank fuck I can still somewhat capture her prominent, more urgent concerns within. It’s becoming a barely-there, hushed tone but at least it’s something. The red flags were pointing to hazardous hauntings from the sandman again. The shift in her body last night was similar to a backhand across the face. I heard and felt her fear.
An indirect hesitation in her demeanor told me more than any stolen fragments from her ever would. That dream was about me. I was portrayed as the villain again. Even though I couldn’t visually see things from her point of view, I knew it was bad when she refused to tell me any details.
I’ll round back to this shit later because I’m supposed to have my first official brotherly bar bromance tonight with Channing, fucking hell. Scrubbing my hand over my five o’clock shadow, I inwardly groan while making a mental note to probe that asshole for any crystal ball bullshit about Brea. Maybe if I get him some of those psychic tarot cards then the self-proclaimed clairvoyant motherfucker will be able to flip a futuristic telling scheme together.
Stepping out of the car, my eyes roam over every square inch of the home I purchased for fiancé. Taking Brea to that penthouse at BC Towers is out but bringing her to a home of our own is my new goal. Paying extra to have this house ready in a rush was also something that I made happen. The builder has some details to go over with me and I want to get them taken care of before I bring Brea here. Our future home has to be perfect.
“Brogan… What’s up, man?” Beck Ballard comes my way with his hand outstretched. I oblige in the manly shake and hear him loud and clear.
If my wife goes into labor while I’m here, I plan on charging this refined suit double. His Wallstreet God bank will be needed after he gets my invoice.
“I appreciate you overseeing this project yourself, Beck. Had this been business as normal it could’ve waited but this is personal.” I shrug.
“No, problem… We got all the reno work and those added additions you wanted completed as well. I think you’ll be impressed but if not, call Cass.” He chuckles but I know he means every word. “Gotta tell ya, man… When Cass told me to check in on a project for you while I was out here, the last thing I envisioned was something like this. I figured it’d be just one of your normal business real estate-related deals. But this is more of a statement.” He studies the vast estate.
“What kind of statement?” I ask.
“Till death do we part kinda shiiieeettt.” I snicker at his country accent and his blunt response. “So…” He waves his hand out at the massive property then looks back at me as we move for the door. “Does this have anything to do with a certain woman? Namely, the one you’ve been posted all over the tabloids with.”
“Yes.” I deadpan. I’m not a big sharer.
“Well, then I hope we did you proud. Here are the keys, man. I hate to run but my wife is due any day now and I’ve got to get back home to Georgia.” He rubs the back of his neck and I smirk as I take the keys from him. “Our crew leader is onsite; you remember Crane, right?” I nod. Who could forget the guy that can put away steaks that are the size of a baby goat? “He’s probably in the backyard marking off the property for that butterfly oasis you wanted.” He gives me a weird look, but I ignore that along with his thoughts. I know that he believes me to be pussy whipped. And I am. I’m just not confirming the shit. “Just give him a shout if you need anything.”
“Take my jet home, Beck.” I say.
“Shhhiiiieeeettttt. Really?” He asks and I nod. “Hell, yeah-man… That airport is a pain in the ass. Appreciate it.”
“It’ll be ready for you when you get there.” I move past him then call out, “Congrats on the baby to come and look for a bonus to accompany that invoice you bill out to me.” I don’t wait for a response as I push through the front door slamming it behind me. See what I did there? Business first, friendly bullshit follows…
“Where are you taking me?” Her tiny hands hold tight to the blindfold that I placed over her eyes when I picked her up.
Brea has on a light blue strappy sundress that appears comfy and matches her flipflops in color. Her toenails are painted in a French manicure and she has beautiful delicate feet. I’ve never been one to notice shit like this but then again, I’ve taken a liking to every attribute about this woman.
“Come on, Southern Comfort. Two minutes and you’ll see.” I smirk as she grips my leg out of nervous excitement. Lincoln chuckles at me in the rearview. I give him a chin lift as we pull back up the winding driveway and stop in front of our house.
There are over fifty acres of trees providing a safe barrier around our place. It gives me a sense of privacy that I desperately seek with the Hudson River perfectly place in the background. In my eyes, that’s like the mote you’d have to cross in order to get to us.
After my fifty acres of sprawling beauty, the property is bordered by two thousand additional acres of protected nature preserves encompassing hundreds of miles of hiking, biking, and riding trails that follow the river all the way down into the city. Maybe I’ll even bring Windsor home from Greece once we have the stables built.
We didn’t need a twenty-three thousand square foot turn of the century mansion, but I wanted this for Brea. The layout is nothing less of breathtaking and I’m eager to see her reaction. Opening the door, I step out then turn and reach back in guiding Brea out carefully.
When I have her perfectly positioned in front of the house, I remove the blindfold and watch as her eyes flutter open. Her brow creases with confusion, maybe? She stares for a moment letting her eyes take it all in then slowly inches her head around my way. Shit… She doesn’t like it.
“You bought a castle? Is this a castle?” Her button nose scrunches up as she tries to understand. I hear Lincoln chuckle and I look over my sho
ulder to see his head bowed as he tries to disguise his humor. “Uhm, I know… It’s a potential Creed Castle Inn.” She says.
“I bought us a home. We sorta need one baby. I like your loft but this is more my style.” Stepping into her, I cup her face in my hands. “Do you not like it?”
“Oh… OH!” Her eyes grow in size as my words finally register. She had to know that I’d work every angle to have us under the same roof. I’ve not been back to BC Towers other than to grab clothes before returning to her. “Jesus, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I think it’s absolutely beautiful but… OH! MY! GOD!” She snaps her head back to the mansion.
The massive three-story structure was built in 1908 with matching cream and rustic stone. Enormous windows line the formation of the home providing it with warmth and light. It’s intimidating but the beauty is undeniable. Rock columns run the length of the front with potted ivy overflowing and pouring out over the rock as if it were waterfalls. The pastoral color rock driveway collides with the steps leading into the home's grand entrance.
“Going back to BC Towers didn’t appeal to you or seem right. I wanted a home for us. Something that’s ours.” She turns those royal blue gems back my way and I can tell that she’s trying to process this.
“Brogan… It’s so, uhm… Huge.” She whispers out like it’s a well-kept secret between us. I nod my head. “It’s only ever going to be us. Do we need this much space?”
“Why not?” I smile wide. I’d give this woman anything.
“Our home…” It’s a question barely whispered. I nod my head again. “We could move my grandparents, Lincoln, Tamera, Max, and Channing in and still never see them.”
That’s where I change things up and shake my head no. Only my butterfly would be thinking of ways to care for everyone else right now.
“This is just for us, Southern Comfort. We can build the grandparents a house beside us if you want. Maybe even your best friends but to hell with Channing. This is ours though.” She lets out a giggle.
“What about Mr. Maggio?” Her eyes flare out with panic and I chuckle.
“Maybe I’ll build him a house too. I like his cooking anyway.” I laugh out loud because I can’t help it. “What if I told you that I might’ve already discussed this with Mr. M and he’s happy for you.”
“I love you.” She says.
“Thank fuck.” I mumble then lean in and brush my mouth across hers. “You wanna try this thing call life with me, butterfly?”
“Always.”
“Good. You want to see the inside now?” She nods her head and when her smile breaks out, I feel a sense of relief pour into my veins coating my reality.
I take a deep breath and gather her into my side then move toward the front door. Just before we step through the front doors of our new home, I bend at the waist and lift her up in a bridal pose hold then carry her through the door.
When I catch sight of his big beefy ass moving down the sidewalk, I shake my head in humor. My DNA determined asshole brother stands at least a head taller than the rest of the minions moving around him. I push out the SUV and nod at Lincoln silently telling him I’ll reach out when I’m ready to leave.
Clearing the car, I give a silent mental shoutout to Channing. His bobblehead shoots up and those blackholes find me. His goofy ass smile quirks up on one side of his face and for the first time since meeting him, I don’t have the urge to fuck him up. Progress, I guess.
“What’s up baby brother?” Channing asks.
He slaps my back as I move into The Cellar without uttering a word. We saunter past the commoner’s bar area and filter our way to the back. I give a chin lift to the Italian muscle gating the door and he swings it open allowing us to proceed. We file down the dim hallway that opens up to a spacious room with several different sets of elevators. Gold, black, silver, and blood red. Channing steps up to press the call button and I speak up.
“That’s not our destination,” I grunt out.
“Does it matter?” He looks over to me and I nod my head. “If you ever come here and someone tries to take you for a ride in the red elevators, prepare yourself. That’s a one-way ticket to some bad shit.” I stab at the button for the gold ride down to the actual cellar. “Gold. Always the gold doors.” I turn my ice whites to him and he shrugs.
“Whatever… I don’t hang out with mobsters; sue me.” He chuckles. “You wanna tell me how you got ahold of a hair sample?” He glares at me and I chuckle.
“So, you got a copy of the test results, huh?” I smile wide. I can’t help it. This shit is priceless.
“Yeah, you little pain in my ass. I did.” He snickers.
“It might’ve been when we were in Greece.” I shrug. “So, what? I took some hair from your hairbrush. No big deal.” I know the asshole is my brother but any chance I get to fuck with him simply makes my soul happy. “I wanted to make sure that my time wasn’t wasted with an imposter.”
“You’re an asshole but an entertaining one.” He shakes his head. “Where’s sunshine at tonight?”
“None of your fucking business,” I grunt out. That shit is still a raw spot for me.
“Really? We’re back to that shit?” He asks as the elevators open and I step out with him on my heels. “Damn, this is nice.”
The Cellar is equipped with the finest of everything. Whether your form of pleasure is fine imported cigars, alcohol, solitude from the outside world, or women. Whatever your little heart desires you can find it here. Depending on that elevator selection destination you choose from for a happy-ending outcome, it’s within reach. Unless it’s that demonic blood dye set of doors, stay away from those.
This place is my little secret. Before Brea, I’d find myself here often. The pleasurable selection of alcohol coupled with the peace and quiet was appealing for me. Privacy is a hard thing to come by especially when you have the paparazzi trying their best to sniff out a trail.
The masculine setup encases us with shiny mahogany wood and fashioned out with memorabilia from the New York Gangsters of past to present adorning the walls. You can detect the age-old scent of past cigars left behind. It’s engrained in the wood from all the mafia men before us that have graced this place.
“Mr. Creed, it’s nice of you to join us tonight. I have your seating preference available. Please follow me.” Crystal says in my approach with a fuck-me smile on her face. I simply nod.
Crystal is what I would guess you’d referred to as The Cellar’s greeter. She’s dressed in the typical attire that consists of a white fitted blouse with her ample breast on show, a black pencil skirt that looks like it was melted around her curves, and sky-high black heels. Her shiny black hair is pulled back in a tight bun placed perfectly at the base of her neck. The woman is Italian perfection but also a part of Crellan Haze’s Cellar familial. That alone places her in a no dick zone to most, but the fact that she’s not Brea solidifies my no-shits given attitude.
We follow behind her until she opens a door and stands back allowing us to enter. Of course, the idiot brother stops to appreciate the beauty of Crystal with a devious smirk on his face. The coat returns the gesture with a cunning glare that she inherited from her gangster bloodline, no doubt. I push Channing through the door with a not so gentle shove.
“Jesus, you little cock-blocker. Was that necessary?” He grumbles over his shoulder at me as Crystal slowly closes the door behind us.
“Yeah, this is my place of choice. Don’t fuck it up for me by making me regret bringing you here. And don’t touch the coats hanging out here.” I growl.
“Shit… I was just being friendly.” He chuckles.
My usual table is outfitted with my customary drink of choice accompanied with another bottle of Crellan’s special Macallan’s. I fall down onto the sofa and stare at the muted TV mounted across the room that’s showing an aerial shot of the house I bought today. I don’t need to turn the sound on to know what’s being reported as a picture of Brea and I appear in the right-
hand corner of the screen. Channing sits on the other side and looks around while stretching his arms out over the back of the plush leather couch.
“So, tell me something… What’s the difference between the “coats” and Brea?” He asks and I grind my teeth together. “I didn’t mean it like that you, prick. I just meant…”
“I know what you meant,” I growl. “The one you were just using your fuck sockets to flirt with is a coat. Nice to wear around your dick, but soon after, you place that damn garment back in the closet and close the door. Brea is like a part of my skin. No detachment, period.” He nods his head like he understands but he has no clue.
“Seriously, where’s sunshine at?” He asks again. I tilt my head to the side at him and he smirks. “You really need to chill the fuck out with that. It’s casual conversation. Hell, I could just call her myself, you know?”
“She’s at her loft packing,” I say as I open the Macallan’s bottle and pour me a generous glass then one for the asshole across from me.
“Did she finally agree to move in with you?” He asks.
“I bought us a house.” I set the pricey indulgence down and slide Channing’s glass his way, then bring my tumbler to my lips.
“Damn, really?” I nod my head as he reaches for his glass. “That’s progress. Thanks.” He tosses back the brown liquid draining the alcohol in one go. I quirk my brow at him and he shakes his head no. “Don’t want to talk about it. Maybe after about five of these.” He wiggles his empty glass in his hand. “And before you get fucked notions going on in that battered up brain, this has nothing to do with the real estate purchase. I’m actually happy for you two.”
“Bullshit,” I grumble.
“You really think highly of yourself, don’t you? Listen…” He refills his glass leaving no room to spare. Then looks back at me. “Sunshine is happy and so are you. You’re not such a pain in the ass now that you two are together.” He shrugs then kills the refill. I simply lounge back and ready myself for the show while wishing I had some popcorn. “Plus, I think you were right.”
