Page 4 of Double

Then Mr. Gillespie gave a slight nod. The next thing I knew, all of the men who’d sat at the dinner table with us pulled out guns, training them on the three of us.

Moses was livid. “What the fuck is this, Gretchen? You have some crooked official and his minions pull guns on us? Your family?”

“Whether you like it or not, this is happening.” Gretchen was scarily calm. “Tinsley will marry Sterling. He will save the family’s company. Once they’re married, Tinsley will get her inheritance. We’ll use it to buy Sterling out, and the company will once again belong to the Campbells.”

I took a good look at my aunt. “So, you not only want me to marry a stranger; you want me to give him my inheritance? Are you insane?” My eyes moved from Gretchen to Mr. Gillespie, to the armed men who still had their guns trained on us. I felt the tears as they started to form. Why could I never just live my life? Why did everybody I was related to think they had the authority to control me? I was over it. “There’s nothing in this entire”—I waved my arms around—“plot that benefits me.”

“Well . . .” My aunt had that sinister expression on her face again. “You’ll get to keep your life.”

“You’re willing to kill your niece over this?” Moses’s disbelief read on his face. “Over a company that’s past its prime and money?”

Thoughts swirled inside my mind. Everything in my life, for as long as I could remember, felt like a battle. I battled to get my parents to love, acknowledge, and connect with me. It never happened. I battled with my father for control of my young life. I had to take extreme measures just to have control over the most menial things. When my mother died, I battled with Gretchen constantly, just to avoid ending up under her thumb. Now she was back, and she expected me to marry a stranger. She expected me to give my money and my virginity to someone who was almost old enough to be my grandfather.

I had an okay life. I had a great best friend. My company was thriving. There was laughter in my life and things I enjoyed. Still, when I really considered the options my aunt had set in motion for my future, there was nothing I had going on that was worth fighting for. Faylise, Moses, and Lianna would miss me, but ultimately, their lives would go on. I knew in my heart of hearts that there was no way I could live as Sterling Gillespie’s anything, let alone as his wife/sex toy. “I don’t want this life,” I said finally. “Take me in the yard and shoot me.”

“Always so fucking dramatic. Kill me now,” she mocked me.

I walked up to the nearest gunman while they watched in shock and horror. I placed my forehead against the barrel of his gun. “Please, do it quickly,” I whispered.

“He’s not gonna shoot your dumbass unless Sterling gives him the command,” Gretchen hissed from somewhere behind me. “But since you’re willing to play so fast and loose with your own life, like the martyr you are, I’ll have you watch while I kill your beloved uncle and auntie.”

I ignored her and repeated my request to the gunman. “Pull the trigger.”

“Pull the trigger? Pull the trigger? Oh, okay. You think I’m playing with your monkey ass,” I heard Gretchen say before the deafening sound of gunfire erupted in the room. Even the barrel of the gun against my forehead gave a tremor.

My head whipped around just as Lianna gasped, and Moses shouted. My gaze shot to Gretchen, who now pointed a gun at her brother and sister-in-law. “Next time, I won’t miss,” she taunted.

“I can’t believe you shot at us.” Lianna took a step toward Gretchen, and then the gun was pointed at her.

“I told you that I won’t miss next time. You⁠—”

Mr. Gillespie cut her off with a look of disgust and a shake of his head. “Gretchen, stop it with this unseemly behavior. Shooting at people. If you can’t afford the mortgage on this place, how are you going to afford the repair to the wall? Grow up.” He shook his head again. “Nobody’s dying . . . tonight. You”—he pointed at me—“young, beautiful one. You will marry me . . . willingly or unwillingly.” He gave a shrug of his shoulders. “A month from Saturday. You”—he pointed back and forth between Moses and Lianna—“will not stand in the way. Gretchen made the deal, whether you agree with it or not. It’s done. If, for some reason your pretty, young niece should go missing, disappear off the island, or something like that, I will gut your entire family bloodline. There will not be one descendant of Milton Campbell left on Iredia when I’m done. I’m Minister of Finance, Sterling Gillespie. Who on this island would be willing to stop me?”

I felt the telltale signs of a panic attack begin to brew beneath my skin. Before I could start to employ any kind of strategy to get on top of it, I was swallowed into darkness by my inability to catch my breath.

2

The Thing About Being the Most Responsible Grandson

Double (Jinx)

I navigated out of social media. I had to be some kind of masochist or at least a glutton for punishment. How many times did I need to see Erica’s ass caked up with dude to accept that she’d made a choice? We were over. I didn’t even want her back, so I really didn’t understand why I was bugging. Maybe repeatedly seeing posts of her living her best life was supposed to be a reminder to me of what not to look for in a woman. How not to handle a relationship. Shit, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that I couldn’t go backward. Every step I took had to be leading toward something new.

I grabbed the gold tie I’d selected to complement my olive-green suit and quickly threaded it around my neck. I was running late because I’d spent too much time stalking my ex. Once I adjusted my tie, I added the jacket to my suit and slipped into my cashmere overcoat. Shortly after that, I left the house.

My mother, Passion Hill-Waters, had established Passion’s Project—a foundation whose goal was to support youth who had lost a parent to gun violence by providing a safe community that offered counseling, mentorship, advocacy, and comprehensive assistance. She had lost her own mother to gun violence when she was nine years old. Though her father had married again, the loss was understandably devastating for my mother.

I stood behind the mission of the foundation. It was my mother’s life’s work. Every member of our immediate family was involved in Passion’s Project in some shape, form, or fashion. My parents were the driving force behind the scenes. They laid the foundation. They made the calls, did the footwork, made sure there was staff, made sure there was money, and kept everything running smoothly.

My grandfather, Chad Hill, and his wife, Lynne, were the faces of the foundation. They shook hands and kissed the babies. They gave the keynote addresses, cut the ribbons, and provided the necessary sound bites to the press. They posed for the pictures, and if somebody needed to show up to represent Passion’s Project, Chad and Lynne showed up.

My grandfather did it because Passion’s mother, Angel, had been his first love. When she was killed, he took it hard. He became a shell of himself until he met Lynne. She helped remind him that there was life after death. Lynne did it because she would do anything for her husband.

My grandparents were getting older. Though he would never admit it to me, I could see that my grandfather was slowing down. While he didn’t look it, Big Hill, which was how his grandchildren referred to him, was in his seventies. Though Lynne was substantially younger, it was time for the two of them to relax. The three of us were in the process of transitioning me into the role of Big Hill’s current position, Executive Director. My wife, if I had one, would take Lynne’s position as Director of Philanthropy.

I had tried to model myself after the two men I admired the most—my father, Jinx Waters, and my grandfather. It didn’t get past me that they both had the one thing that seemed determined to escape me . . . a wife. Not having the partnership or companionship of a wife bothered me. By the time they were my age, both my father and grandfather were married and had families. Here I was, bullshitting around. Well, not really. I spent my twenties bullshitting around, but I got serious the day after I turned thirty. I met Erica soon after. We spent time dating and getting to know one another. In my mind, I was positioning us to have the happily ever after that I saw firsthand while growing up. She didn’t have my same experience or outlook on marriage. I should’ve caught that much more quickly than I did. By the time I accepted that her eye was on a prize that had nothing to do with settling down and making a life with me, I’d given her five years.

It was an entire year later, and I hadn’t come across anybody who piqued my interest. Maybe on some level, I wasn’t really looking for somebody. Maybe I’d already given up. Maybe I’d already resigned myself to the idea that the crazy attraction that kept a woman on your mind all the time and made it so you couldn’t keep your hands off of her wasn’t for me. Everybody didn’t get that.