The Art of the Hustle 2 (Complete)

Chapter Eleven

The whole situation felt surreal. A part of Trevor wanted to believe he was still in his early twenties, eating ramen noodles and spending time with the woman he loved. Now at thirty-five, he was getting ready for his wife's and unborn child's funeral. Standing in front of a mirror wearing all black, Trevor was trying to tie a Windsor knot.

He hadn't stopped crying in days since the accident. His eyes were red and puffy, and his nose was raw from blowing it so much. He looked as one might expect having suffered such a devastating and life-altering tragedy.

Those who experienced loss understood the pain and suffering, the grueling torment that he had to endure every second of every day. Most people didn't understand. As a billionaire, most already found him unrelatable, now with this, people weren't really sure what to say to him. He was told it would get better with time and to keep his head up — the typical words of comfort. But those simple pleasantries did nothing to help nurture his healing. He had been down and out before, but it was never anything on this level.

The apartment he and Ashley shared together was still littered with her belongings. Reminders at every turn of what could have been. It was definitely not the best place for him to be. The transition back to normalcy would be extremely difficult and he had barely taken any steps in that direction. Surely he had a long road ahead of him.

Every time his phone vibrated, he would think of her, hoping by some miracle she would be on the other end. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he answered the call.

"The car service is ready for you, sir. Take your time."

"Thank you. I will be right down."

Still standing in front of the mirror, he stared at himself and took several deep breaths. After wiping away the tears, he was ready to face the world.

Everyone close to Trevor had heard the tragic news and paid their respects in different ways. People in his building offered their condolences. The doorman and the driver spoke somberly upon greeting him.

Stepping into the all-black SUV, the driver closed the door and walked around to the front of the vehicle. In the back, Trevor was greeted by Tami, who in addition to her executive assistant duties, also acted as a mother figure to him. She was the only person he wanted to see in that moment. She was a long time and loyal friend who had his back no matter what.

"How are you holding up?" she asked.

Trevor exhaled a deep breath, but didn't say a word. Tami put her arm around him and held him tightly. Trevor immediately started to cry.

"It's going to be okay," she said. "Just get through this next couple of hours and then you can take all the time you need."

"Thanks, Tami," he said through sniffling breaths.

"Want a drink?"

"I'd love one."

The vehicle pulled away from the building and proceeded through traffic and across the Cambie Bridge. Meanwhile, Tami and Trevor were in the back drinking whiskey neat.

"Tell me what you loved about her?" Tami asked.

For the first time in a while, Trevor smiled. "She was great in every way, you know? She was smarter than me, more likeable than me, funnier than me, she was the complete package. She was really tolerant, which I liked a lot. I'm sure it's not easy dating, or being married, to me. I work a lot and sometimes I come home exhausted and I'm probably not the best company, but she would always know how to make me relax and laugh. She was always so silly. I really loved that about her. Even when I have a serious speech or presentation to rehearse, she would be there busting my balls, trying to get me to loosen up."