by Kahlen Aymes
Darian really couldn’t argue her point, and he didn’t want to. Alex did like to keep control. Of everything. "What about you? Do you have a man? You're a beautiful woman, Angel."
"You’re kidding, right? The guy would have to be wow.”
Darian huffed, put off at the thought that this woman he’d placed on a pedestal, would be lowered to a level the likes of the nefarious and money-grubbing Whitney.
Angel’s eyebrow shot up at the expression on his face, and she put a hand up.
“Hold up. Not necessarily in looks, but certainly in character. I’m not saying I’m against having a relationship, but after listening to all of this crap? Ugh. I know what I want and what I will accept. My boundaries are firmly established and I have no problem walking if my needs aren’t met. I certainly wouldn't be so insecure to put up with this type of one-sided bullshit."
"What about sex?" His dark gaze settled on her face, and his eyes narrowed. She knew that look. She'd seen it many times before. It was the predator, sizing up its prey, trying to figure out if the kill was worth the chase.
"I'm not sure this is an appropriate convo to be having with my producer, but since this show is what it is, I'll answer. Sex is sex," she shrugged. "I'm not a prude. Physical release is part of being healthy on many levels. Men aren't the only ones that can leave emotion at the door for some good old fashioned bump and grind." She bit her lower lip, trying to hide a smile at the shocked look on his face. "When I need it, I have... options."
Darian opened then shut his mouth again.
Good. Serves you right, asshat, she thought. "Not all women can handle that. Some can. Generally speaking, it's like I said, short-term is okay with no strings attached, but that's it."
"What an intriguing image, Angel. Thank you," Darian answered cautiously.
"Well, don't get too excited, boss. You'll be disappointed."
Darian doubted that he would be. In fact, if he wasn't careful, his imagination was going to give him a very tangible problem, so he decided it was time to change the subject.
"I got the promo images back. They look hot. The phones will be ringing off the hook next week."
"I have to get back to work, you know? My boss will have my ass if I screw this up."
He was pulling out his cell phone and leaving the sound booth. "You do that. Do you have it from here? I'd like to go meet my boys."
"Another boy’s night aficionado?" Darian nodded. "It's sort of late, but go ahead." Angel waved him out and glanced at the clock. Only five minutes to go.
“It's Friday night in Chicago, Angel. The clubs are open until four in the morning. You really should get out more," Darian said as the door closed behind him.
"I'd like to dedicate Between the Lines by Sara Bareilles to Celeste and all of you who have realized that the truth has been staring you straight in the face but you didn't want to see it. We all have done it at one time or another, but we need to learn from our experiences." Angel drew in a deep breath and cued up the song. "It's important to take care of yourself, because ultimately, it comes down to you. Thank you for all your calls and dedications. This is Angel After Dark on KKIS 105.4 FM. I'll see you next week. Peace and love."
* * *
Alexander Avery was leaning up against the mahogany bar of one of the most popular clubs on Rush Street. His brother, Cole was hitting on some trashy looking babe at the end of the bar, and Alex was bored with the whole scene. The scotch burned in his throat as he casually looked around. The interested glances of the many women there did not escape his attention, but left him unmoved. He ran his hand over the soft layer of scruff on his jaw and sighed.
Maybe I'm getting old, he thought, but Jesus Christ! I'm only thirty-two. There was a time when he would have jumped on that shit. Now, while it flattered him, it offered limited stimulation. He had yet to find a woman who moved him as much mentally as she did physically, which could be the huge source of his apathy, he admitted.
Maybe it was Whitney's incessant whining that made his dick go limp, or maybe it was his mother's demands that it was time he settled down. Between the two of them, he thought his fucking head would explode. Alex glanced in Cole's direction again and rolled his eyes at his brother’s expression. Cole raised his head from the woman he was talking to and nodded as if to say ‘oh yeah, I'm gonna hit this’.
As for Alex, he wasn't into one-night stands. Not anymore. He hadn't been that careless since college, preferring to have monogamous relationships but yet, unemotional. It was a tricky situation and a fine line to walk, but he was a man, and he needed sex. He just preferred it without all the emotional bullshit that came with it, and he made that clear to every woman he got involved with. The problem was; they always seemed to have a hidden agenda, no matter what they agreed to up front. Whitney had turned from being a confident, aggressive sexual partner into a whining, mewling mess he could barely tolerate. That situation had to end, but he wasn't looking forward to the actual confrontation.
As if on cue, his phone vibrated in his pocket, and pulling it out, he saw that it was a text from her.
"Where are you? Come over. I miss seeing you."
He was still looking at the screen when Darian finally arrived. They met in graduate school, both pursuing MBAs and had been friends ever since. Alex’s degree was in economics and finance and Darian’s in marketing and communications. Alex's family owned a conglomerate of businesses, and he was CFO of the parent company. He'd come back to Chicago after a short stint in New York City at a huge investment firm, and he'd been very smart about investing at Avery Enterprises as a result of his experience. The company had new resources and was able to acquire several smaller companies under his watch. Some observers might call it luck, but his father and the board of directors knew it was shrewd business dealings and rock solid negotiation skills combined with know-how to turn failing business’ around.
"It's about damn time, man. Where have you been?" Alex growled as he shoved his phone back in his pocket without answering Whitney’s text.
Darian leaned in casually and ordered a beer from the bartender. "If you'd listen to your friends, Alex, you'd know that I have that new radio show at the station."
Alex vaguely remembered Darian mentioning a hot psychologist that he was trying to land for that gig several weeks back, but had lost track of when it was supposed to happen or even it if materialized.
At the time, Alex had been skeptical and teased him. "How can a psychologist be hot? Probably wears Mary Janes and bifocals and can freeze ice in her vagina," he’d mocked.
"Dude. She is. Trust me," Darian had retorted with a laugh, but the subject had been dropped.
"Oh, sure. How is that going?"
"It’s doing well. The promotion is starting Monday, and I expect the phones to ring off the wall. Dudes will be clamoring to talk to her when they see what she looks like, but she is one tough cookie. She’ll make hamburger out of them. I’m expecting to laugh my ass off." Darian smiled as he took a long pull on his longneck beer.
"Hmmph," Alex scoffed, unimpressed. "Whatever."
Darian just stared and shook his head at his friend’s disbelief.
"What's your problem?" Alex asked at Darian’s expression. He ran a hand through his thick shock of hair and took a swallow from his glass.
"You mean… what's your problem, don't you?" Darian scowled.
"Listen, if you have something to say, I wish you'd just say it. I've had a rough week, and I'm wound too tight to have you dancing around something you clearly want to say."
"Ah. Things not so good with Whitney?" Darian’s eyebrows shot up in mock inquisition.
His relationships weren’t something Alex discussed in great detail. His friends knew he saw women as a convenient way to sate sexual urges and fulfill business obligations, but he never talked about them much. Darian was aware that Alex had yet to meet a woman that he actually wanted to spend time with outside of the bedroom. It was cool, though, his friend took full responsibi
lity and was honest about his intentions.
Alex was so focused on growing the family business he didn't have time for romantic distractions. Even if he would have had the inclination to seek it out, he didn’t, not because he was a cold bastard, but it was just a choice that worked.
"Why do you say that?" Alex asked with sincere interest, pulling out a stool and finally sitting down. Where is he going with this?
"You'd better get prepared for a shit storm, man. That's all I'm saying.” Alex glanced at his friend and his eyes widened, but only very slightly. “Whitney called in to the show tonight."
An angry flush rose up underneath Alex’s skin at the implication of Darian’s comment. His expression hardened and the muscle in his jaw started to twitch. Part of the bargain was that he'd provide Whitney with an apartment and bank account, and she'd keep her mouth shut about the true nature of their relationship and not try to turn it into more than it was.
"She did what?” His tone was quiet, but edged in steel.
They were both seated at the bar, facing in, and Darian glanced at his friend’s tense expression in the mirror. Alex set his glass down hard enough to have the liquid swishing over the rim, which prompted Darian to answer.
"She called the show." Darian shrugged, trying to hide a smile but glanced at his friend from the corner of his eye. He never liked that fake bitch, and the sooner Alex walked, the happier he’d be.
It was clear that the news made Alex angry, but he was good at keeping his cool; years of practice being detached and indifferent helped him regain his composure quickly. He ran a hand over the lower half of his face. "Really? What did she say?"
"That you make her feel invisible." Darian set his beer on the bar and shifted in his seat. The bartender approached both men to see if they needed another round, but he held his hand up and shook his head, quickly letting the man know that this was not a good time. The savvy bartender took the hint and turned away in a hurry, silently nodding in understanding.
Alex felt a slight twinge of regret. He cared about Whitney, as much as he'd ever cared about a woman, and he didn't want to hurt her. Maybe he did make her feel invisible, but then, she made him feel like a bank account. "Well, that's about right." Alex said quietly and shrugged. "I'm getting ready to end it anyway. I'm just not interested. It isn't working anymore. She's always on my ass for more time, more money, more… shit."
"More sex?" Darian asked in wonder. "I agree, you could do better on many levels, but in that one aspect, you're such a poor bastard. I feel so sorry for you, Alex."
"I said more shit, dickhead. But, I suppose she'd want more sex if I were so inclined." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't find her exciting anymore. I'm not sure I ever did, but lately, she gives me a fucking headache." Darian chuckled. "I’m aware she wants more, but she knew what to expect from the first time I took her to bed." Alex knew that sexually she was satisfied. He could make her moan like a bitch in heat, but even in their most intimate moments, it was nothing more than screwing and he knew it. “On the other hand, she cares more about herself than she does me.”
"I thought that was what you wanted—no feelings."
"It was. It is. But not when the desire is gone. And she pretty much douses that whenever she opens her damn mouth. So, what did your doctor tell her?"
"Basically, she told her to dump your sorry ass."
The bartender came over again, and this time, Darian ordered another round as his friend sat on the bar stool in contemplative silence, his eyes hardening. "So I guess we'll see if she takes Angel's advice." He dipped his head to hide the smirk that was spreading across his face.
Angel.
Alex felt a jolt at the sound of the name, and he turned it over in his head a few times, trying to get a picture of her to form in his mind. He wondered if everything Darian said about her was true. Alex pictured a stodgy, passionless shrew that got off by analyzing other people's lives due to lack of one of her own. But the name... maybe there was something to Darian's description of her. Suddenly, he was intrigued and the hair on the back of his neck prickled.
Who the fuck does she think she was to tell my mistress to end things without knowing both sides of the story? And why the hell do I care anyway? he asked himself. He wanted out so however that happened, didn’t matter.
"I wonder if she would’ve told Whitney the same thing if she'd known my side of the situation."
Darian watched as Alex got lost in his thoughts and spoke as if he were talking to himself.
"Yes, I told her. But only after Angel ended the call, of course. I couldn’t say anything while she had Whitney on the phone."
Alex sat back in his chair and turned sharply toward Darian. "What? You didn't use my name did you? I don't need my personal bullshit under public scrutiny, Darian."
"Relax, Alex. I’m not stupid. Whitney used your first name, and I didn't mention your surname or Avery Enterprises. I told Angel that you're a very focused individual and you were upfront when you got into one of your arrangements."
“Arrangements? She probably thinks I’m a dick.”
“Yeah, so?” Darian’s tone was sardonic and he smirked. “Aren’t they? Arrangements?”
Alex couldn’t argue, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t chagrined, but he was amused by the direction of their conversation and, against his better judgment, intrigued by the faceless Angel. "And? What was her opinion?"
Darian’s lips lifted slightly; amused that his friend seemed so interested in something he professed not to give a shit about.
"She doesn't believe that you don't know that you're hurting these women. I think her exact words were: ‘your friend clearly knows how this shit works, hence his carefully laid out escape clause,’" Darian mocked with a quirk of his lips.
Alex leaned his elbows on the bar as a slow, devious grin spread across his face. "It's too bad she's probably stiff, closeted, and frigid as hell. I think my dick just got hard." He looked down at his glass and chuckled out loud.
Darian burst out laughing. He knew that intelligence was what Alex needed in a woman. Maybe he'd open up his heart and mind to more than just a sexual relationship if he could find someone to stimulate him above the belt. If there was anything that turned Alex on, it was a challenge.
"You don't even know what she looks like. God help you, then, because, you'll be in a world of hurt. And, her wit is sharp as hell."
“Whatever,” Alex dismissed, but his phone intruded into his musings again. He pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open.
Alex, get your ass over here now, or it's OVER!
"Ugh, fuck. D, I have to go. And, Cole is in danger of getting his cock cut off by that banshee. Can you make sure to get him home? They're doing some serious damage to each other down there." Alex nodded his head in Cole's direction and shook it in disapproval. "The family doesn't need any bad publicity because he can't control his cock. I love my brother, but he doesn't always think with his head."
"Oh? The text must have been from your lady," Darian speculated and took another long pull on his beer. Alex outwardly cringed at the words ‘his lady', not really sure how to classify her anymore, but surely the screaming shrew she'd become certainly didn't fit that profile.
"Apparently, she isn't taking your girl's advice. I'm being summoned or it's over," Alex said with blasé sarcasm. He was not looking forward to that conversation. With a roll of his eyes, he slammed the rest of his drink and walked over to Cole, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Cole, I gotta bounce. See you on Sunday."
"Dude! Don't go, Alex. Things are just starting to happen. This is Ruby," Cole said happily, his speech slurred by the amount of alcohol he’d consumed in the past two hours. Alex's eyes drifted over the redhead that was draped around his brother’s neck and took note how her blue eyes looked him up and down. He felt disgusted as he acknowledged the woman. She was elegantly dressed with bright red polish on her long fingernails, but Alex felt bile rise in his throat. She might look expensive,
but Alex knew trash when he saw it. Her blatant appraisal of his dark good looks made it clear that she’d move on to a better offer without thinking twice.
"Nice to meet you. Goodnight, Cole."
It's bitches like that who make me avoid relationships like the plague. Just like Whitney. If Alex were honest with himself, he had to admit it. So fake, so grasping and calculating, Alex thought as he turned and walked out. It was obvious that Ruby wasn't interested in Cole. He was just her next victim, and she would have dropped him like a hot potato if I'd snapped my fingers.
"It's no fucking wonder I'm the way I am," he muttered under his breath as he walked the four blocks to the garage where his car was parked. “No fucking wonder.”
* * *
As he drove the few miles to Whitney's apartment, Alex tried to dig up some feeling for the woman he'd been sleeping with for the past year and a half. Sure, she was beautiful, but she was shallow. She was more interested in shopping than what was going on in the world, and she bored the shit out of him. He sighed heavily for letting her physical attributes sway him in the first place. He’d desired her and so he took her. It was easy, like everything else in his life. Sure, he worked his ass off, but making money out of nothing was what he loved best, and he was good at it. That was easy for him, too.
After leaving his Audi with the valet, he swiped the key card in the security door, and the doorman greeted him.
"Good evening, Mr. Avery."
"Good evening, George. How have you been?"
"Good, sir. It's been a while. Nice to see you."
Alex nodded. Yes, it had been a while. At least a month since he'd been there. "You, too."
He straightened his suit jacket and pulled on the cuffs of both of his sleeves as he watched the lights in the elevator climb to the eleventh floor of the upscale apartment building.
He'd met Whitney through his sister two years ago, and after several phone calls and a couple of obvious occasions where she'd dropped by his office, he'd finally asked her out to dinner. Alex shook his head, remembering. He should have his head examined for being so easily called into play. She had a great body and the sex had been good, but they had nothing of real substance to talk about. Whitney worked at an art gallery downtown and was constantly trying to get Alex to purchase some god-awful piece from whoever her newest client was. One of the closets in his spare bedroom was shoved full of the damn things.