The Hero + Vegas = No Regrets

Thank god Monday night drinks have been switched to Friday. I need my friends. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt the need so acutely, but Sophia, and now the lack of her, has changed everything.

We’re all meeting at a private members’ club on East Sixtieth. It attracts the oldest of old money, which is why Jack is the only one of us who has a membership. This is the club we’ve all been coming to longest. The familiar wood-paneled walls are like a balm to my soul tonight. I need to be reassured that my foundations are still solid. For now.

I walk into the bar and see Bennett right away. To my surprise, Byron is sitting right next to him. I wasn’t expecting to see him tonight.

We greet each other, and I order a drink before taking a seat around the low polished table.

Bennett looks at me, then back at Byron, then does a double take and stares at me. “Everything okay?”

I nod and take a sip of my drink.

His gaze doesn’t leave me. I look at Byron, pretending I don’t notice.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you, Byron,” I say, trying to redirect Bennett’s attention. I don’t need to spend the evening talking about myself. I just want to be around people I can count on.

“Flew in this morning,” he replies.

“From Acapulco?” Bennett makes air quotes, like he doesn’t believe for a second that Byron’s been in Mexico.

“Colorado actually,” Byron says.

I’m surprised he’s actually told Bennett the truth. I don’t know why, but Byron has been keeping this latest project close to the chest. He was raised in Colorado, which I suspect has something to do with how mysterious this project has been, though I can’t figure out why.

“Really?” Bennett asks. “Everything okay with your parents?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. I actually have some business there.”

“What kind of business?”

Byron nods as if he’s considering Bennett’s question and whether to answer it. “I’ve invested in a resort.” He glances around the room. I’m not sure if he’s hoping the ceiling will collapse to stop Bennett’s questions or whether he’s trying to gauge the ceiling height. He’s acting… off. “I want to tell you about it. It’s going to be announced this week.”

“So tell us,” Bennett says.

“Later,” Byron says.

Bennett sighs and turns his attention to me. “You want to share what’s got your face looking like that?”

“Genetics?” I offer. “I don’t have a beauty regime I can let you in on if that’s what you’re hoping.”

He ignores me. “How’s it going with Sophia?”

My heart clunks in my chest, like it’s an engine trying to start but failing miserably.

“I thought that was a Vegas thing. You still seeing her?” Byron asks.

I shake my head and gaze into my drink. Seeing her. Is that what was happening with us? It felt like more than that. I felt like we were together. No, we weren’t living together, but that was just logistics. We were married. With every passing hour, that felt more and more important.

Bennett calls the waiter over. “We’ll take a bottle of the Macallan 1990.”

The three of us settle into silence.

“Did you end things?” Bennett asks eventually.

I shake my head. “Let’s not talk about it.” I don’t know what I’d say. I don’t have any answers.

Leo arrives, along with Jack and Fisher. I relax a little. There are too many people here for Bennett to press the issue with Sophia. I can just be.

Byron gets the most effusive welcome. He hasn’t been around much, and it’s good to have him here.

“What’s the latest with everyone?” Leo asks, taking a low stool between Bennett and me. The bartender brings over the Macallan and Leo looks to me and then Bennett. “We’re either celebrating or commiserating. Which is it?”

I glance between Byron and Bennett. Are they going to say anything?

“You want to take that question, Worth?” Byron asks.

Leo waits. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but it feels like he knows something. It would make sense. Sophia is bound to speak to Jules.

“Is it a binary choice? Can’t we just be having a drink?” I ask. Okay, so I’m more touchy than usual, but can’t they talk amongst themselves and let me brood in peace?

“Things okay with Sophia?” Leo asks. Bennett can’t hide the way his eyebrows disappear into his hairline.

I sigh, exasperated. I feel like I’m a plate of seeds being pecked at by a houseful of hens.

“We’re not together anymore,” I say.

“Wait, what?” Fisher interrupts whatever it was he was talking about with Jack. “What happened?”

Now five pairs of eyes are on me and everyone knows about my breakup with Sophia. This was exactly what I didn’t want.

“She’s going through some personal stuff and needs the time and space to do that on her own.”

It’s an obtuse answer, but I’m not going to give them personal, private details about Sophia’s family. Anyway, the why doesn’t really matter. Only the what: she doesn’t want to be married to me anymore.

“Man, I’m sorry,” Fisher says. “I had a good feeling about you two.”

“Doesn’t sound like it’s over though,” Bennett says. “It sounds like things might… resolve.”

I huff out a laugh. “I don’t think so. Not for me anyway.” I raise my glass, a signal that I want to be done with this conversation. There’s no point in keeping the wounds fresh. I want to forget about them for a while. Hope they heal while I’m not looking.

I’ve never felt the way I feel about Sophia. I opened up to her completely and allowed myself to want something—someone—just for me. Not because it was a necessity, not because it was a requirement for survival, but because I loved her. Love her.

And so I have my answer. She doesn’t want me. Or doesn’t want me enough. There’s no coming back from that. I just have to move forward.

I slide my empty glass on the table and excuse myself to the restrooms. I need to splash some water on my face. Regroup.

When I emerge, I’m feeling no better. Maybe I’ll just head home. Thank god Sophia never stayed at the brownstone. I don’t think I’d be able to go back there if the ghost of her was waiting for me in every corner.

I head back to find Byron on his feet, making his way toward me. He nods to the bar and we both take seats at the mahogany counter, leaving the other four sitting at the table.

“I’ve been really cagey about Colorado,” he says.

“Can I get a drink?” I ask the bartender. “A glass of malbec.” No more whisky for me. It’s going down too quickly. I turn back to Byron. “You ready to share now?”

“It’s weird, because you five are the best friends I ever had. You’re more than friends, you’re my brothers. But you’re also rich as fuck and move in certain circles…”

“You didn’t trust us not to share your secrets?” I ask, irritated by the implication. Why the fuck am I the guy who can’t be trusted these days? What the fuck did I do?

“It’s not that,” he says. “Of course I trust you. All of you. It’s more that you’re all wealthy and clever and so, sometimes, that becomes an echo chamber when it comes to business.”

“Right,” I say, feeling better.

“What I’m doing in Colorado is a risk. A huge risk. Part of me thinks I’m nuts. And then the bigger part of me thinks I don’t care if I’m nuts, this is what I want to do.”

I chuckle and realize I haven’t done that in a while. I’m so fucking miserable without Sophia. “Are you going to actually tell us what this resort is about?”

“Yeah, I am. I can’t turn back now. Too much time and money are committed, so none of you can talk me out of skirting the edge of bankruptcy to get this off the ground. I’m risking everything with this thing.”

It’s the exact opposite of the way I run my business. I have so many investments in so many businesses that it doesn’t matter if any of them don’t work because I’m so well hedged. I’m not the risk-taker Byron is. Or Leo or Bennett. Probably because I know it’s not just my future at stake, it’s my sisters’ too. Or it used to be.

“Byron, do me a favor and just tell me. I need something to take my mind off…” I can’t even say her name out loud.

“It’s a billionaire playground,” he says. “Combined with a wilderness reserve.”

“Okay,” I say cautiously. “What does that mean?”

He glances up and around the bar. This place is so opulent, it’s a place where I’d expect people with the names Vanderbilt or Rockefeller to feel at home. He can’t be thinking of creating a club like this in Colorado? He’s not certifiably insane.

“A private members’ club that guarantees anonymity, exclusivity, and complete luxury,” he says. “And the experiences of a lifetime. The Colorado Club costs a million dollars to join and fifty thousand dollars a month in membership fees.”

“Are you serious?” I ask. “How many people in the world can afford that? How many people in Colorado can afford that?”

“In Colorado? Fifteen. In the world? Not many? Thirty thousand max.”

“So it’s a club for the fifteen centimillionaires who live in Colorado?”

He shakes his head. “It’s a destination resort. People will come from all over the world for the incredible skiing with world-class instructors on empty slopes and virgin snow. Restaurants and bars that stock the best food and beverages with unbeatable service and discreet staff. In the summer, we’ll have hiking trails where you are as removed from the industrial world as you can get. We’ll have pools and wellness offerings. We’ll have cutting-edge sport scientists perfecting your workout in state-of-the-art gyms, Olympic athletes coaching your crawl. This is…”

“A retreat for the very wealthy.”

“Exactly. The world keeps wanting more and more from all of us. And most of the time, we keep giving it. This is the ultimate place to escape and live in the now.”

I pause, thinking about what Byron’s saying. It’s not adding up. I’m missing a piece of the puzzle.

“Why?” I ask.

“You should see the profit projections.”

I don’t buy it. I shake my head. “There’s always a why. With all of us. It’s never just about the money.”

He shrugs, and I can tell I’m not going to get him to admit his motivations for creating this billionaire resort. “Enough about me.”

“Then what are we going to talk about?” I ask. “Because I don’t want to talk about me.”

He nods. “You know what the best thing about you is?”

I groan. I really don’t want to think about me or look inwards or celebrate my finer qualities. I just want to keep drinking to the point where I can’t feel anything anymore.

“The best thing about you is how selfless you are,” he says.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I’m sick of hearing what a great guy I am.

“But that’s also the worst thing about you.”

I choke out a laugh. “Wow, thanks, friend.”

“I mean it. Sometimes you’re so worried about everyone else’s feelings, you don’t ask for what you want.”

I tip back another gulp of wine. “Well, this isn’t one of those times. I told her what I wanted. And you’re right, it’s one of the few times I’ve ever asked for something entirely for myself. And here I am. Alone. About to file divorce papers from the only woman I ever loved. The woman I still love.”

“Fuck,” he spits out. “That fucking sucks.”

“Too fucking true that fucking sucks.”

“She doesn’t feel the same?”

I nod to the bartender, asking him to top up my glass. Of course he pours me a fresh glass. At this point, I wouldn’t care if he gave me a straw and the bottle.

“I think she does, but she doesn’t trust herself. Doesn’t think she should fully trust me.”

“Can you prove to her you’re trustworthy?”

I tell him what her father did to her and her brothers and mom. How the truth has rocked her world, undermining her trust in her father and also her mother.

“She says she needs to work through it, but there’s no endpoint to that. It’s not that I wouldn’t wait—of course I would, I’m in love with the woman. But I think the wait might kill me. The next phase of my life is going to be about what I don’t have and can’t do a damn thing about it. When I was a kid and my dad died, I cooked my sisters dinner or cleaned the house—anything to keep our family together. Yes, I missed my dad, but his death gave me purpose. I channeled my grief into something positive. But with this? What the fuck do I do, Byron? I’ve never felt so fucking helpless in my life.”

“I feel like I’ve got to have an answer for this.” He presses his fingers on his temple, like he’s channeling the spirit world. As much as I know it’s futile, I will him to come up with an answer. “I’m trying to think. Bennett did that interview in Forbes, but something like that’s not going to work.”

“That’s the fucking problem! It’s not like there’s something lacking between us that’s driven her away. Efa knew she couldn’t live the life Bennett was living, so he changed. For her.”

“Right,” Byron says. “And Jules needed Leo to fight for her. To show her that he wouldn’t abandon her, even when she pushed him away.”

“Exactly. But how do I prove to Sophia she can trust me? I’ve never done anything to make her think I can’t be trusted.”

“But her dad hid things her entire life.”

That’s the problem. Her father’s lie was so deeply buried, so completely a part of her reality, that its roots are part of who Sophia is. “There’s no solution,” I say, and take another swig of wine.

Byron takes the glass from my hand. “Drinking won’t help. It will just make you depressed. I’m going to stop by the brownstone tomorrow morning at six. We’re going for a run.”

“Fuck I am.”

“Worth, this isn’t going to take you down. I won’t allow it. I’m going to see you at six.”

“Make it eight,” I mumble.

That’s why I’m here tonight. Because I know my five best friends won’t let me go under. Whether or not I knew it before I got here, that’s my biggest fear—that after everything I’ve survived in this world, losing Sophia will finally break me.