by Meghan Quinn
But I didn’t make the fucking decisions,—Jett did. That was why I found myself standing outside of a café waiting for Goldie to arrive.
Growing irritated from waiting, I looked down at my watch and then back up in the direction I knew Goldie would come from. As if she appeared from nowhere, I spotted her walking toward me. Her steps faltered as she looked up to find me staring her down. The grip on her purse tightened and her chin lifted as she continued to stride toward me.
Every inch of her was covered in clothing, clearly making a statement she was not to be ogled. She could cover herself up all she wanted. I still knew what kind of curves she was sporting under her clothes. They’d been burned in my brain from seeing her at Kitten’s Castle.
“Goldie,” I said more as a statement rather than a question.
“Uh, yeah. And you are?” she asked, not relaxing the death grip on her purse.
“Let’s get a table,” I said as I released my stance and nodded toward the door.
I walked inside without giving her a second glance. I knew she would follow me. She was desperate, at her wit’s end. She needed this meeting.
We were seated at a table in the back against a wall, giving us an optimal amount of privacy. I’d arranged the table with the host early on.
Goldie fidgeted as a waiter took our orders for water. Her hands shook, and I wondered if I made her nervous.
Of course I made her nervous. What was I thinking? I was a strange man trying to convince her to perform for the city elites. If I’d been her, I would have run all the way back to my apartment and locked the doors.
Ignoring how nervous she was, I proceeded with the meeting.
“What took you so long to call?” I asked, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms.
“Why don’t we start off with a little introduction, eh? You know, the old ‘hi, my name is…’.” she motioned her hand for me to continue.
“What took you so long to call?” I asked again, ignoring her attempt to get me to talk casually.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, she said, “Sorry I didn’t jump at the chance to call a number from a stranger who contacted me three times after following me around the fucking French Quarter.”
I stilled a small smile and continued. “Why did you end up calling?”
“Because apparently I’m a masochist.” She got up. “This isn’t working out. Thanks for the… water.”
I sat casually in my chair, not worried about her departure. “Your tens of thousands of dollars in debt aren’t going to just disappear, Goldie.”
As if on cue, she swung around in shock. I casually played with the straw in my water and eyed her from under my lashes. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how to press this little hellion’s buttons.
Quickly sitting down again, she said as quietly as possible, “Where did you get that information? That is a violation of privacy.”
Her blue eyes blazed with fury as she stabbed her finger against the table and demanded answers.
God, she was beautiful, even when she was mad. Her eyes were full of life, an attribute I was greatly lacking. The blush on her cheeks showed how young she was despite her old eyes.
Why had Jett found her first? Right about now, I would have given anything to grab her hand, pull her onto my lap, and bury my head in the sweet smell of her skin.
Every orifice of my body prickled with the need to pull her into me, to make her mine. I didn’t know her, but just after one interaction with her, I was sold. There was something about her, something special that was infectious. I knew she was going to make a mark on me.
She waited for me to answer about her invasion of privacy, but instead I continued with my tactic of reminding her about the destitute life she was living.
“Do you want to escape the hole you’re living in now, Goldie? Do you want to feel safe, taken care of, and debt free?”
“No, I want to live in the gutter while being fucked in the ass by Bourbon’s hobos,” she shot back sarcastically.
I couldn’t help myself. The corner of my mouth tugged to the side from her comment. She was feisty. Good luck, Jett. “That mouth is going to get you into trouble.”
“Oh, is that right? Well, frankly, I don’t give a fuck.” She leaned closer and said, “Stop bullshitting me; just tell me what the hell a Jett Girl is and what it entails.”
I admired how tough she was. “Fair enough. Have you heard of the Lafayette Club?”
“Only from what my friend Lyla, told me, and it was practically nothing.”
Lyla was her roommate. That I knew. I also knew she worked at Kitten’s Castle as well. I’d been so transfixed with Goldie that first night, I wasn’t able to scope out the roommate. From what I understood, Lyla was in the same situation as Goldie but not as desperate. She could handle her own.
“It’s a high-class gentlemen’s club where very important men go to conduct business. The Jett Girls are the in-house entertainment, ranging from still art and choreographed dances to serving drinks. The girls are never touched, they are never completely naked, and their personas are entirely anonymous. They go by aliases and wear wigs and masks during their presentations. If they were ever seen on the streets of New Orleans, you would never know they were a Jett Girl.”
“Okay…,” she dragged on skeptically.
I could tell my little elevator pitch had scared the crap out of her, but I continued. “All Jett Girls are required to live in the club and get an education, which is fully paid for, so when they’re ready to move on, they have something to move on to. All debt a Jett Girl accumulated before she signs on is immediately erased the minute she comes into the club. You are completely taken care of: food, clothes, housing, etc. Every Jett Girl gets the feeling of being safe and sound while living in the Lafayette Club.”
“What’s the catch?” she asked, not buying it.
How did I go about this without making Jett seem like a total creep? He wasn’t. He just liked sex, like I did. Nothing wrong with a healthy libido. I understood Jett’s reasoning for being monogamous with the girls. His mom had passed from AIDS. She was very cautious, but he wanted to please the girls as well. That’s why he offered them the chance to go up to the Bourbon room with him, his playroom.
“If you’re a Jett Girl, you’re required to keep yourself for Jett and Jett alone. Outside relationships are not permitted, and you must submit to Jett.”
“Submit?”
“Yes, submit to him.”
Yup, I’d scared her. I could see it in her eyes, but she was trying to put on a good show for me, show me how tough she was. I was a little excited that she was freaked out because honestly, that meant I might possibly have a chance with her, even though I had no room for a relationship in my life.
She contemplated what she was going to say and then said, “Man, this Jett guy must be one ugly fuck if he has to spend thousands of dollars ‘saving’ women just to get a little ass. Doesn’t he know there are willing prostitutes on every corner who would only charge him a hundred dollars to suck his dick?”
She had it all wrong, but damn it if I was going to correct her. I was a selfish bastard. I wanted her.
“Well, that’s a nice little, uh, establishment you’ve got going on there, but I have to say… not interested.”
I mentally fist pumped as my phone vibrated in my pocket. I knew who it was. Jett was checking in to see how the meeting was going. My conscience battled with me. Even though I wanted Goldie, at least for a night, she needed Jett more than she needed me. Jett would be able to give her everything she needed for a second chance in life. I couldn’t give her anything.
With regret, I said, “Don’t be an idiot, Goldie. You and I both know you don’t have a choice in the matter.”
She spat back quickly, fire in her eyes. “That’s where you’re wrong. I do have a choice. I have a little more self-respect than whoring myself out at some creepy man’s brothel so I don’t have to live sad paycheck to sad paycheck.�
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Time to drop the bomb. “Is that why you get paid for sex by Rex Titan?”
My words smacked her in the face. Rex Titan, also known as Jett’s arch nemesis, paid Goldie occasionally for sex. It was an act of desperation on her part, to help make ends meet. For Rex, it was a way to fulfill the needs his wife ignored. Rex was a sick man, someone Jett and I kept tabs on but refused to acquaint ourselves with.
She pointed at me. “You’re a sick fuck, you know that? Get another hobby and stop stalking innocent girls. Fucking creep.”
I liked everything about this woman, from her gorgeous body to her filthy mouth.
“The offer stands until midnight, Goldie.”
“You can take your offer and shove it up your dick hole. See ya, psycho.” She took off.
I hadn’t expected anything less from her.
Chapter Twenty Two
My present…
For the last week, I’d worked my body ragged, getting ready for the opening of Justice. After I returned to the community center, I assessed what needed to be done and was surprised to see that in my absence, the girls had stepped up. The center was ready to open to the public, and the only thing that needed a final once-over was the Haze Room. Naturally, the girls left that to me.
If I was going to spend most of my time in the room teaching, I wanted it organized to my liking. I moved bleachers and bins around and added more equipment, along with chalkboards and more mats.
It was nine in the morning, and the center was set to open in half an hour. I wasn’t sure if I was ready. I was still reeling from my demons, trying to overcome the ache in my chest I’d been living for years. Could a damaged soul try to save another damaged soul? Was that even possible?
“Looks good,” Jett said as he walked in and surveyed my changes. “I’m proud of you, Kace.”
“For what?” I asked, wondering what he could possibly be proud of. This center had been his idea. We used his money to create a safe haven. He’d been the mastermind, and I was the follower.
“For putting your reservations on hold and helping develop this center with me. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“The girls did a lot.”
“With your guidance,” Jett added. “Don’t discredit what you were able to accomplish here. Accept the compliment and be proud of yourself.”
It pained me, but I nodded and accepted Jett’s commendation. “Thanks, man.”
“You’re welcome.” Jett smiled brightly. “I’ve got to admit, you’ve changed in the past week. I haven’t spoken to you much, but does this new you have to do with the apology you gave us the other day? Goldie is still dazed by it. She thinks she changed you with her dick talk.”
“Of course she does,” I shook my head. “She’s a piece of work, you know that?”
“Don’t have to tell me that. So what’s with the change?”
I shrugged and stared at the punching bags, wondering if I could get a quick workout in before the center opened.
“Blane said something to me that made sense. I was the one who made the mistake of punching Marshall. I am the one who decided to punish myself. I shouldn’t punish the people around me. You’ve all been accepting of me and my faults. It’s about time I treated you all the way you deserve to be treated.”
“Does that mean you’re going to start kissing me goodbye?” Jett asked with a grin.
“Both cheeks,” I joked, pointing to my face.
“The only way I like it.” Jett paused and put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his feet. “I know you’re dealing with a lot, Kace, but I need to tell you, your friendship over the years has been the best thing in my life. Well, until Goldie.”
“She does have the pussy.”
“Watch it,” Jett smirked. “Seriously though, the guilt you live with on a daily basis might not ever go away, and I understand that, but thank you for keeping my best friend around. I don’t know what I would do without you, Kace. I don’t say it enough, but you’re my fucking brother, and I would do anything for you.”
“I know.”
We exchanged a knowing look that spoke volumes about our friendship. No matter what came our way, we would always have each other’s backs. We might not have been brothers by blood, but we sure as hell were brothers by soul.
“Mind if I get a couple of quick hits in before we open up?”
“Go ahead,” Jett replied while eyeing the punching bags. “Break it in. This is your room now, Kace. Make it worth it.”
With pressed lips, I nodded and shook Jett’s hand. He pulled me into a brief hug then briskly walked away. It wasn’t Jett’s style to show much emotion, not even toward Goldie, but the woman had softened him, and it was a big day. I would take his exchange and hold it close to me. If anything, I would die knowing my past crime wouldn’t deny me a true friendship.
Without taping my hands, I quickly slipped on the boxing gloves I now kept stored in the Haze Room and went to the closest bag. I circled it once and bounced on my toes, looking for the perfect spot to strike. With a quick jab of my right hand, I punched the bag, causing it to swing.
The feel of my fist connecting with the sand bag enthralled me. Excitement coursed through my veins as I circled, stopped, and threw a couple of jabs at it. I bobbed to the left, bobbed to the right, and threw an uppercut straight into the bag, my signature move.
Heavy concentration settled over me as everything around me turned black. Like a couple, I danced with the bag, letting the swing from my punches turn into a rhythmic tango of sweaty athleticism. In a few short minutes, a sheen of sweat skimmed my skin just as my arms started to loosen up, allowing my punches to strike at full force.
Right hook, left hook, uppercut.
Upper cut, upper cut, bob to the left, jab with the right.
Move, Kace, move.
From a distance I heard a crowd roar with every punch I made. My coach called, guiding me from the corner. Blood pounded in my head, and my punches became heavier. I focused and was instantly in the zone.
The smell of my opponent’s sweat came roaring back, the feel of my feet bouncing around the ring attacked my senses, and then and there, I felt the euphoric pleasure of being in the spotlight with my gloves taped to my wrists and a sorry-ass sucker bobbing in front of me.
Right hook, left jab, right uppercut, bob, right uppercut.
Cheers erupted, and clapping echoed in my mind, a clapping that seemed all too real.
“You look good.”
I was mid-jab when I stopped, my vision cleared, and the lights from the room fogged my vision. Even though I had a hard time adjusting, I knew that voice like it was a constant record playing in my head. “What are you doing here, Lyla?”
“Wanted to wish you good luck on the opening,” she answered nonchalantly.
I stepped away so the punching bag was no longer in my way and glanced at the woman who’d burned herself into my soul.
Fuck me, was she gorgeous.
Her long hair was curled in light waves that hung over her shoulders. She was wearing a pair of skinny jeans that were cuffed right above her ankle boots. But it was her top that was really grabbing my attention. She was wearing a loose-fitting tank top that opened at the sides and dipped low in the front, giving me an eyeful of her navy blue bra that showcased her breasts to perfection. Her skin glittered under the lights, and I wondered if she thought of me often like I did of her.
I was weak around her; my brain scrambled whenever she was near. She crippled me, mind, body, and fucking soul.
“Thanks,” I replied, really not knowing what else to say. I shed my boxing gloves and tossed them to the ground. I grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from my forehead. “You’re looking good yourself.” I nodded at her outfit.
Good didn’t even come close to describing how she actually looked.
“Thanks.” Her hands rested in her pockets and she looked around the room. When she was done scanning the room, she took a deep breath and took it
upon herself to step closer to me.
“What are you doing, Lyla?” I asked, wondering why she kept coming back to me even though I treated her terribly every time we were together.
“It’s hard to get you out of my system, Kace. It’s hard to just let go.”
“It would be best if you did.”
“I know,” she replied, grabbing one of my belt loops. The heat pouring off her was instantly absorbed by my body, turning me on to an uncomfortable state. “I wish I could stay away, Kace. I told myself I didn’t need you, that I should move on, but I see the trouble in your eyes, the hurt, the need for someone to save you, and for the life of me, I can’t walk away from that.”
Did she know I secretly wanted her to save me? Could she see how much I needed her? Begged for her at night? Could she really see the desperation in my eyes, the heart-stopping ache I had in my chest to live a normal life?
“I know you don’t want me, Kace. I know you want to sequester yourself from the outside world. I get that, I’ve been there, but I just want you to know, no matter how many times you push me away, no matter how many times you’re awful to me, I will always be there for you. I want you to be happy, even if that means you’re not with me.”
My pulse raced in my chest. I pulled Lyla into my space by her hips. Her hand ran up my chest to my jaw where her fingers traced my rough scruff. Her fingernails ran across the bristly hair as her soft green eyes bored into my soul.
“You’re my addiction, Lyla.”
Distraught and confused, I pulled her head toward mine and gently glided my lips along hers. I was an addict, a junkie, a self-mutilator. This woman in my arms was all I’d ever wanted but everything I couldn’t have.
Blood pounded through me from the contact, and I wished in that moment God would decide to take me, because I would die a happy man. I could die feeling like the luckiest son of a bitch to grace this fucked up world.