Harlow knew that, the God of longing, which could imply the drug increased sexual appetite too. “Oh, Crash,” she whispered, grazing her thumb over her star tattoo.
“I suppose you were too busy having sex with him to discuss any of this,” Ophelia said. “Anwen always told me Ryske said business and love were incompatible bedfellows… I’m sure he didn’t say it that way. Doesn’t really sound like him, does it?”
No, it didn’t. Harlow was beginning to wonder if she’d known the man at all or if their whole relationship had been a con. Relationship? That was a loose interpretation. If they’d been together at all, it had been for a week and it hadn’t been all the way.
Reeling from the severity of these revelations, Harlow wrung her wrist and licked her lips. “I… uh…”
“Oh,” Ophelia said. “Oh, I’m sorry, this must be so difficult for you. Stay here. Just a minute.”
Getting up to scurry off, Ophelia disappeared from the room. Harlow didn’t even bother to check where the hostess went.
Her mind was swimming. This was her chance to flee. She could get up, leave the apartment and never look back. A rush of adrenaline surged through her, just like the one she’d experienced on the night Ryske died.
“What the hell am I doing here?” she whispered to herself and stood up.
Going to the mantelpiece, Harlow examined the showcased engagement ring. Ryske had proposed to Ophelia. He hadn’t minded the whole world believing he was in love with the beauty. After his proposal, would he have been faithful to his fiancée?
Ophelia had implied that she wasn’t having sex with Ryske. The relationship wasn’t real, so anything he did with other women was outside Ophelia’s scope, or was it? The whole relationship was part of the con…
But, what was Harlow? What was her connection to him?
Of their own volition, the flats of her fingernails trailed up her body, over her breast and shoulder, beneath her hair until her fingertip touched the mark she’d had inked on the back of her neck.
The tattoo was meant to show that she was a part of the crew. To prove that she identified with what she’d become, that she was proud of it.
What had she really become? Ryske was gone. In his absence, Harlow could make him out to be anything she wanted him to be. It was easier to remember the good parts; the lying in bed at Bale’s, at her place or his, talking, bonding, enjoying each other.
Thinking of falling asleep in his arms or them pleasuring each other in the shower made her feel better. At what point had she conveniently forgotten that Ryske was a cocky prick who’d frequently undermined her free will with his own assertions?
In the end, she’d been right. Crash had vowed to bed her and technically, he never had. But that was only a technicality. He’d had her in every other way a man could have a woman, heart and soul.
No matter how hard she tried to tell herself nostalgia was tainting her memory of their connection, Harlow couldn’t shake it. Closing her eyes, she pictured his grin, and that look he’d give her after he’d said something that didn’t impress her. She could still visualize his wink, his confidence… the way he’d spoken about her like she was his.
The idiot had punched Clyde just for sitting beside her. He’d invited her to stay with him at Floyd’s, in his home, somewhere he’d never taken a woman before. Crash had played it down like it had been the only option. But, Harlow knew enough of him and his crew; if they hadn’t wanted her in their home, they’d have found an alternative.
So many of Ryske’s words and actions implied that she was special to him; but he was a conman, he could sell anything. Though that was true, Harlow couldn’t figure out what lying to her would’ve gotten him. Nothing she’d given him was lucrative, not even the information had monetary worth.
One truth was undeniable. Clutching the mantel on either side of the glass-encased engagement ring, she closed her eyes. Their whole relationship, and her reason for being here, boiled down to one thing: he’d told her he loved her. That’s where Harlow’s sense of ownership came from. Crash had said he loved her.
“Here, come and sit back down,” Ophelia’s voice came from behind her.
Turning just in time to see the hostess appear through a swing door carrying a glass of water, Harlow returned to the couch. Ophelia joined her, handing over the water to let Harlow have a drink.
“Thank you,” she said.
Ophelia took the glass and put it on a table that stood behind the couch. “He said you were different.”
“I was… oh.”
It seemed she wasn’t the only one obsessing about Ryske. Guessing what the guy had been thinking was impossible. To say that he wasn’t always the most straightforward would be an understatement.
At one time, Harlow had believed that he didn’t lie to her. That was a lie in itself. Ryske could be whatever he had to be, for whoever he had to impress or charm. Nothing about him was certain.
Talking about him with Ophelia in professional terms was easier than broaching the personal. “The slap was for show,” the hostess said. “He told me you knew how to adapt and accept. I supposed if you were part of his crew that you would have to be good at that sort of thing.”
Ryske had talked to Ophelia about her. He’d told her that, though he’d never shared the specifics. “What else did he say?”
Smiling, Ophelia seemed to understand Harlow’s need to hear something new about the man who was gone from their lives. “That you got him drunk.”
Harlow couldn’t remember ever forcing Ryske to drink. “When?”
Ophelia laughed. “I think he meant figuratively.” Oh. Harlow relaxed her offense. “He said the moment your eyes first met something in him changed.”
The first time they’d looked at each other, he’d been suffering blood loss. Harlow would be surprised if he even remembered. “He was full of shit,” she whispered, smoothing her skirt.
Ophelia grabbed up her hand. “No, he meant it… He said he’d never met a person so fearless. He said you treated every day like you had nothing to lose. You stood up, no matter the personal cost. You were dedicated, and loyal, and determined… He said he was lost, that he didn’t know what life was anymore, that everything since you had been autopilot because whatever he’d been before wasn’t enough anymore… He was different, Harlow. I told you that the night we met. The Ryske who was with Anwen, the Ryske I knew before her and after… he wasn’t the same man once you came into his life.”
Fearing that if she opened her mouth, the burn in her sinus would become something she wouldn’t be able to control, Harlow took her time breathing, using the reprieve to restrain the tears. Throughout, Ophelia cradled her hand and stroked the back of it.
“He couldn’t breathe,” Harlow sobbed when she dared open her mouth. “He was looking right into me and he knew… The pain of that minute, his pain…” She pressed her hand against her chest. “It won’t leave me.”
Ophelia’s lip wobbled and when she blinked, a tear tracked down her cheek. “We’re going to use that pain,” she said, her own tone lost to grief though she tried to fight it. “The pain we both feel, we’re going to use it.”
Nodding, Harlow swiped away her tears and sniffed, exhaling a laugh. “God, you know the prick would love this,” she said, picking up the water glass from behind the couch to take another drink.
“Two beautiful women blubbing over him?” Ophelia said and laughed too. “Yes, he would. And I doubt we’re the only two women who’ve shed a tear for him.” Probably not before or after his death. “Do you know what comforts me?”
“What?” Harlow asked, returning the glass to the table.
“Anwen has him now,” Ophelia said. “Wherever they are, they’re together.”
Ophelia’s understanding of that relationship wasn’t the same as hers. But, as with the ring, Harlow wasn’t going to take away the woman’s illusions if they gave her comfort.
Losing themselves to grief wasn’t productive. Harlow was determi
ned to fight as hard as Ryske would for her. “We need to get this deal back on track.”
“How?”
Trying to figure it out, Harlow knew for sure that she was resolute in taking every necessary risk. “We have to talk to Parratt. He was the initial mastermind, right? Do you think you could arrange a meeting with him without your brother knowing about it?”
“Yes,” Ophelia said, drawing on Harlow’s optimism. “It will have to be this week. Gil’s going to Europe next week.”
Gil was Parratt’s first name. “Perfect,” Harlow said. “The sooner the better.”
“He’ll meet with us,” Ophelia said. “But, what are we going to tell him? Do you have a million dollars lying around? Because he won’t let us in if we don’t have the buy-in money… and without Ryske’s connections—”
“I’ll take care of that.”
She’d surprised Ophelia. “You… you have his contacts?”
Without actually lying, Harlow resorted to smiling instead. She didn’t have his contacts, but she had access to his possessions and didn’t mind snooping. A certain conversation faded up in her mind. Harlow had a good memory for names. Ryske had mentioned the twins Svetlana and Lyudmila. There were other names too, though those were the only two that Ryske had confirmed were hookers.
From that same conversation, she knew about Ryske’s proverbial little black book, where it was, and how to access it. Without meaning to, the crew had secured her position and helped with her plan.
It was a place to start. The twins might know other women who’d be willing to take part. Svetlana was a madam, so she had to have her own crew. Harlow would ensure the terms of the official agreement read that the woman not be required to take drugs and that they get to keep whatever money they made with the customers they chose to see. Because it was right, and because it was what Ryske would do.
Her mind was turning, thinking about how she’d come up with clients when Ophelia spoke again.
“We could split it down the middle?” Ophelia said. “I know it looks like I’m loaded, but I’m not. My brother controls everything. He pays my bills, but I don’t have a lot of cash on hand. He’ll notice if I start selling jewelry and furniture. He’s here almost every day… I’ll come up with half the money and the clients, something I was doing for Ryske anyway. If you can come up with half the money and the Hawkers.”
Bobbing her head, Harlow recognized that would be fair… if she had the first clue how to find that amount of money. That was a problem for later, no way was she giving up at the first hurdle. “That’s fair.”
“The operation going ahead will benefit Jarvis. Parratt won’t want him cut out; we need his operational support…” Harlow didn’t want Jarvis Hagan cut out. Having him involved was the idea. “It will drive him insane to know that we’re doing this in Ryske’s name and of course we should talk about him as much as possible. But, is it enough to—”
“Let’s worry about getting this off the ground, and then we’ll take care of that.”
Harlow was glad Ophelia accepted that because she wasn’t sure the woman was ready to hear her full plan yet. Cluing her in on a need to know basis seemed like the best idea, at least until Harlow could be sure that they had trust.
“Just having us around and involved will drive him nuts,” Ophelia said, already confident, which Harlow liked. “He doesn’t believe women should be involved in business. I tried to be a part of his corporation once and it was awful. It was a battle every day and I’m ashamed to say that I let him win… I won’t let him win this time… I asked Ryske to help me take him down for Anwen, he refused… I have even more incentive now.”
“We both do,” Harlow said. “Meeting with Parratt in private will be the first goal. If we can meet Yarker after, that might help too. Having them on our side will be beneficial. We don’t want to make it seem like we’re only there to spite your brother… We have to come across as professionals.”
“Definitely,” Ophelia said. “Ryske’s laid the groundwork for that. Jarvis always seemed so erratic whenever he was around or pushing his buttons. Parratt and Yarker are already wary of him… It wouldn’t hurt to sleep with them.”
Harlow had been following along with a growing sense of enthusiasm until that last part, which brought her thoughts to a jarring halt. “Excuse me?”
“Ryske always said that to do what he did, he had to be willing to use every weapon in his arsenal at all times… And, let’s face it, we’re hot.”
Ophelia’s words were effortless and unapologetic. To her, it was just a plain, clean truth. If they had sex with Parratt and Yarker, they’d be able to manipulate them with ease.
Using her sexuality hadn’t occurred to Harlow. “And, you think that if we…”
Ophelia nodded. “They already think you’re a hooker. So, we tell them I came up with the money, you’re coming up with the goods. If we want them to screw my brother along the way, it would make sense for us to screw them… You’d be willing to do that, right?”
Coming up with an answer didn’t take as much as a second. Harlow began to nod. If it came to getting naked with either of them, she would have to work hard to sell her interest when the notion made her sick to her stomach. But, if it was the difference between this working and not, it didn’t really matter what happened to her body. She couldn’t say she was willing to die for this cause and then be precious about her virtue.
“Do you have a pen?” Harlow asked, happier to change the subject than to dwell on it. “I’ll give you a number.”
“Oh, sure,” Ophelia said, retrieving a phone from the end table to hand it over.
Harlow called her burner from Ophelia’s phone, ensuring they had each other’s numbers. Once that was done, she got up, startling her hostess who obviously hadn’t expected her to go yet. But her task was complete, there was no need to hang around.
“Let me know as soon as you have a meeting time with Parratt,” Harlow said, moving toward the hallway and the front door with Ophelia in tow. “And don’t tell your brother about any of this… it will be better to surprise him.”
“I agree,” Ophelia said, kissing each of her cheeks. “Work on pulling your half of the money together, I don’t know how fast this will happen.”
“Sure.”
“And, Harlow,” Ophelia said, stopping her just before she opened the front door. “Thank you for trusting me… We’re going to make him proud.”
With a smile and a nod, Harlow slipped out. It wasn’t until she was in the elevator that she let herself breathe out. Staring straight ahead, so as not to draw attention to herself if there were cameras, she fought to maintain her composure even though her insides were soup.
This was on now. There was no going back.
She was going into the drugs business.
9
Before that, she had to go into two other businesses: liquor and gambling.
After leaving Ophelia’s, Harlow made a stop at the Sotos on her way back to Ryske’s bed. She asked Felipe to come by Floyd’s the next day.
Together, they cleaned up and got to work removing the boards from the windows. While they were doing that, a few guys who passed asked what was going on. They pitched in once Harlow explained she was getting the bar running again.
Though most people who joined them knew her, Felipe was a great help in introducing her to those who didn’t. The first time he’d introduced her as Ryske’s wife, she’d been taken aback. But, everyone accepted it, seeming to understand that the title was unofficial. Every person who stopped offered condolences as though she had actually been the woman Ryske had said “I do” to.
Anyone who had skill enough to help did. In the end, Floyd’s looked better inside and out than it had on the night she’d first gone there.
Stocking the bar was easy. The liquor supplier didn’t want to mess with anyone from Floyd’s. So, although the liquor license was still in Dover’s name, they were happy for her to receive the delivery.
&nbs
p; Contact details for everyone she needed were in the office. Word had travelled through the neighborhood, so Tom, Dick, and Larry weren’t surprised to hear from her. The trio were happy to arrange dealers and customers for a Friday night event.
Lowan, Dover’s bartender, was eager to come back to work. Though he was surprised by the change of management, he didn’t ask questions. In this neighborhood, no one probed too deep. It was one of the things she loved about the people around Floyd’s.
Plucking up the courage to call Svetlana took some time. Anxiety was unnecessary because it turned out the woman was patient and personable. After exchanging mutual regret about Ryske, the women agreed to work together. It transpired that Ryske had mentioned her to the madam. While she hadn’t been expecting the call, Svetlana welcomed hearing from Harlow, who she’d been curious about.
They weren’t on the line for long. By the end of the call, Harlow’s confidence was high. Svetlana reassured her that she could come up with the goods and wasn’t shy about being explicit in what her girls offered and their terms.
Getting that box checked meant a lot to Harlow and gave her some piece of mind. Though it was only one problem solved; there were others that she still had to get to grips with.
Caring for Floyd’s came to be a substitute for caring for her crew. Harlow dedicated her free time to getting the place in shape, going so far as to move furniture around to clean underneath it. That led to a few interesting discoveries. She loved learning every nook of the home that meant so much to the man she missed.
Go It Alone (A Go Novel Book 2) Page 8