Dr. Boss

by Ivy Blake

  “Hayes.”

  “Where have you been all day?”

  “I’m away on business, Baxter, you know that.” A lie, but a decent one.

  “Good answer. Look, I’ve sent over some papers for you to look at, possible answers to this problems of ours. And I know I’ve told you this already, but you need to meet with the District Attorney.”

  “Lucas, let me cut you off here. We’ve talked about it, yes, and my answer remains the same. Tell him I’ll be in Brussels until September, and after that he can catch me in Osaka.”

  “You’re always somewhere…” Baxter said. “Look, okay, I’ll get it done.”

  “You better.”

  I ended the call and walked back to the windows.

  God damn that District Attorney, always looking into my business when I didn’t fucking need it. He’d have the IRS on my ass soon enough.

  I thought about calling him, getting it over with.

  But no, not yet. I had to take some time off and regroup. I knew it was a crappy strategy – innocent businessmen don’t find excuses not to prove their innocence. Or, rather, not to negotiate it, at least. There was a temptation to really leave the country. Lie low somewhere in China.

  “Mr. Hayes?” Monica called. She was standing at my door. Monica was five years older than me, but looked five years younger. She was a looker, and crazy smart, but she might have been the only woman in the world who wasn’t interested in me. She’d been married for the better part of her life, since college, and perfectly happy. Unlike all the other women I’d ever known, she had no interest in my money. Ironically, I had no interest in her.

  “Mr. Hayes? Where are you?”

  “Just… thinking.”

  “Oh, now you’re thinking!”

  “Hey, watch it. What did you want?”

  Monica widened her eyes and pursed her lips, gesturing at my phone. There was only one man she would bother to announce in person.

  I cocked my head, feeling annoyed already. “What does he want?”

  She made a face. “No idea honestly, but you better take it.”

  “Thank you, Monica.”

  I stared up at the ceiling. Mother fucker. What a day. Lazily, I walked over to the couch and grabbed the phone. There was a missed call.

  Fucking Lawson. He was my friend, but a shitty one at that. I viewed Lawson as my mentor, in a sense, always learning from his mistakes that he so often found himself in. How he got away with half the shit he did I would never fully understand. He had somehow successfully managed to find millions of dollars’ worth of loopholes in his company’s taxes. When the government came to question him, he was a cocky idiot which only made them investigate into his business more. I tried to tell him to quit acting like a kid but he never listened to me. He always said that he knew people that could get him out of things, and he would use that to his advantage. I never fully believed him until I watched his problem with the government slowly disappear.

  If there was one other thing I had learned over the years through Lawson, it was diplomacy. You never knew when you might need someone’s help, and staying on good terms with everyone was only smart.

  I picked up the phone and redialed, mentally preparing myself for whatever trouble he had found himself in again.

  Lawson picked up after the first ring. “Owen, my friend! Happy you returned the call! I wasn’t expecting it, frankly! How have you been?”

  “You read the news. Hayes Inc. is stronger than ever,” I lied.

  “Congratulations, buddy! I knew you would pull through!”

  “Of course we did.” I clutched the elbow rest.

  “True. But word on the street is the District Attorney is gunning for you, know anything about it?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ugh he just wanted to run the rumor mill. I didn’t give a shit about what he wanted to know, I had to actually handle my business.

  “Well I hear he frequents an investment of mine.”

  “An investment? Which one?” Lawson owned properties all over town, easy to hide his money that way.

  “Do you remember that place we used to frequent in the old days? The Chicago Buyer’s Club?”

  I did. Back in the day, when we had just graduated college and started making our first money, the club was where we spent our weekends. Those were some legendary parties that saw cash flying in the air amidst girls’ underwear. I stopped visiting it right after things with work started to pick up.

  “What about it?” I asked.

  “Well, it’s somewhere the higher end people in this city like to be.”

  “Why are you telling me this Lawson?”

  “Hey I figured we used to help each other, and I screwed up, stopping that relationship. This is my olive branch. Meet with the District Attorney, or even better snap and few pics and be on your way. It can only help your case.”

  He had a point.

  The me of five years ago would’ve been out the door already, but the me of today sat still.

  “I don’t know about that, Lawson. As tempting as that sounds,” – it didn’t – “I think I’ll pass.” I wasn’t very interested in getting back involved with Lawson.

  “Come on, man, don’t be like that. Look, I’ll be paying for everything, whatever you want. Women, booze, whatever, you just get that pic.”

  He wanted this blackmail for his own purposes, I was sure of it. But it was still worth a shot.

  “Oh, and did I mention?” Lawson said, bringing me out of my thoughts on the commissioner. “There will be an auction! A dozen of hottest chicks we could find! The best of the best!”

  The idea didn’t sound appealing at all, but speaking with the District Attorney there might play to my advantage. I doubted the DA would like it to be common knowledge that he frequented auction houses of women. It was even worse than a potential sex club.

  “Okay, Lawson, I’ll bite.”

  “I knew you would want to come! I will see you there Sunday at nine, okay? I’ll tell the boys to reserve a space for you at the staff parking.”

  “You’re overdoing it.”

  Lawson laughed. “I know, I’m just happy my old pal Owen is back!”

  “I never left,” I said. That part was true, he left me. I was still here.

  As soon as I hung up, I saw Monica stepping into the office. “I cannot believe you agreed to meet with that asshole!”

  “Easy. I’m not meeting with him. I’m checking out the club, and speaking to the other attendees. Maybe I’ll get a date or something.” I smirked at her, we both knew I didn’t need to buy some girl.

  I could have whatever I wanted.

  Whoever I wanted.

  Whenever I wanted.

  Monica considered it. Then said, “Wear the navy suit. It makes your eyes shine.”

  I smirked, feeling better for the first time that day. I was already going to wear a blue one.

  On my way out, she turned to me and said, “You know he wants something from you, right?”

  “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

  Chapter 3

  Sydney

  I got the call back from the Chicago Buyer’s Club on Saturday evening. By that time I had given up on the idea, and even Julia stopped urging me to call them again. But then again, Julia had spent most of the weekend out in the city, bar-trotting, as I called it.

  Back on Thursday, after Julia had gone to sleep, I finished that bottle of wine and, of course, picked up that flier. Twice I dialed the number and hung up before it could connect, laughing at myself and ridiculing the idea. Yet, every time I remembered why I would even consider doing it, I thought it was a good plan.

  After all, getting a few hundred for a couple of drinks with some spoiled jerk wasn’t too bad. And judging by the level of secrecy, no one would ever know!

  So, I finally called and forced myself to sit through half a dozen rings, expecting to hear a voice of some sleazy old man, but to my surprise, it wasn’t.

  “Eveni
ng. Chicago Buyer’s Club.” There was a slight European accent to the woman’s voice, but just distinguishable enough to be sexy.

  “Um, evening,” I replied, realizing I had no idea what to say.

  “Are you a young lady willing to take part in our Lonely Hearts event on Sunday? There is still a spot or two left for only the sexiest women.”

  Intrigued by her velvety voice, I said, “Yeah. Yes, I think I am interested.” I felt like I was in a spy movie, talking in code. “I do have a lonely heart.” Wasn’t that the truth? Between taking care of Declan and working more than full time, I couldn’t even remember the last time I had felt a man’s touch.

  “I believe we can help with that. Please, state your name, parameters, and, if possible, send a link to your social media profile to this number after we’re finished.”

  So, I did, I was proud of my looks. A blue-eyed blonde, an ex-gymnast with curves in all the right places. I was sure they’d at least give me a good look.

  “Brilliant,” the woman replied. “We shall review your application and contact you with further details. You can call this number any time. Ask for Ava.”

  “Um, okay. Thanks.”

  It was a short call, and I didn’t think much of it. It felt wrong somehow, but exciting at the same time. So, when my phone went off on that Saturday evening and I recognized the number, my heart started beating ten times faster. I didn’t know what to do at first and wished Julia was there to give me a kick in the butt.

  I jumped to my feet and paced the room.

  Okay, okay, just breathe. Don’t get your hopes up, maybe they want to tell you you’re out.

  When I felt calm enough, I swiped the screen and answered.

  “Evening. Sydney Mercer?” it was Ava.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “I’m calling to let you know that we have evaluated your application and would like to invite you to our event tomorrow evening at eight o’clock.”

  I was speechless. Was I really doing this? I was thinking of all sorts of insane things. Of what I would tell my brother, and that I had work early on Monday, and that it was probably some clerical error or a practical joke…

  “I will be there,” I uttered, to my own surprise.

  “Brilliant! Please, dress comfortably. You will be on the list. Have a good night now, Sydney.”

  Ava hung up without giving me a chance to reply, so I was left staring at the phone, wondering if this conversation had really taken place. The call log proved it had.

  Wow.

  I quickly texted Julia, reciting the dialogue, word for word, and started pacing the room again. I was really doing this! What should I wear? Ava said to dress comfortably, but surely if there would be millionaires at this “Lonely Hearts” event, then I would need to be dressed to impress. Did I even have clothes suitable for that? I would have to borrow something from my roommate…

  +++

  That night, when Julia came home, and all day on Sunday, we tried on dresses, before finally settling on a nice black dress and a small handbag of a recognizable brand, which I had bought a few years before, when I had money. I figured I couldn’t go wrong with such a classic look.

  “Are you sure about it?” I asked.

  “The dress? Totally!”

  “No, this whole… thing,” I said with a sigh.

  “Look at it this way. Do you need money? If the answer is yes, then go for it and never look back.”

  “But that’s true for any number of things,” I countered.

  “Name three more things you would rather do to make some cash overnight. Realistically.”

  “Point taken.”

  It was a good and only point, really. What was the worst that could happen? It’s not like I had any plans for the weekend, anyway.

  We had a light late lunch, and then Julia gave me a ride to the club, giving me a last-minute prep talk.

  “I know some guys from the club, and they’re cool, but if something doesn’t feel right, you just text me and I’ll pick you up. I’ll be in the neighborhood until three.”

  “Thanks, Mom!”

  “Syd, I’m serious.”

  “It was your idea, Julia. I’ll be fine.” I checked my nails and my dress once again, checked my handbag – cell, keys, money. All set.

  Chicago Buyer’s Club was located in central Chicago. It was nice, but nothing about the street screamed this is where billionaires hang out! But I couldn’t know for sure. I assumed most of those guys were crazy secretive anyway.

  The front of the club looked more like a bar, stylized to look like a pub that had seen better days. I heard muffled music coming from inside. Suddenly, I didn’t want to go in. I stopped in my tracks. What the hell was I doing?

  But only one thing came to mind. Declan.

  So I put one foot in front of the other and pushed forward. I had to do this, for him.

  There was a guy at the entrance. He was too small to be a bouncer, but he looked like he was standing there with a purpose.

  “Is this, um,” I lowered my voice: “the Chicago Buyer’s Club?”

  The guy smiled. “Charming. It is. Are you here for the tonight’s event?”

  “Yes. I’m Sydney Mercer, they said I’d be on a list?”

  He got out his phone and scrolled for a moment, then said, “Checks out. Follow me.”

  He led me through the half-empty bar area towards a door that said Staff Only, and let me step through first. It was a peculiar feeling, and I thought this must be what Julia had felt the first time she began waiting tables. Being on the other side, seeing the ins and outs of a business.

  “Just walk to the end and turn right. You’ll see some of the other girls there.”

  “Right.”

  I kept moving, smelling the kitchen and beer, but then at some moment those smells dissipated, and the air changed. It was smoother somehow, and the smells were sweet and delicate. It wasn’t perfume, but rather the smell of new furniture and fabrics. In the same way, the bar’s music subsided, and gave way to something more rhythmic.

  A moment later the hallway took a turn, and I found my way into a spacious room that looked more like a musical set. There was a wide stage at the far wall, where a DJ was doing his thing behind a laptop. To the right of him was the bar, and it was nothing like the one I had just left. There was neon and a lot of glass, colorful bottles and glasses of every shape and form. The room was getting crowded, with a few couples dancing on the dance floor in the middle. And it was obviously a rich crowd, too. There were mostly guys around, dressed in shiny suits, wearing shinier watches, and what women were there, looked like models, wearing gaudy jewelry and loud dresses.

  I was a fish out of water. They would probably laugh me out of the damn place. At my shoes, at my simple – comfortable – dress. I glanced around, looking for a place to sit down or stand away from everyone else. The bar was too crowded, but to my left there was a nice sitting area, blocked off from the rest of the room by a heavy curtain, and there I saw a group of other girls. Those must have been my people.

  At the head of the group was a tall woman in a red pantsuit and with a tablet in her hand.

  Ava.

  I hurried to join them.

  “…will find the papers in your inbox, so check your email when you get home tonight, yes? You will be receiving twenty percent of the final bid, free of tax.”

  I interrupted her: “I’m sorry, what’s the final bid?”

  Everyone looked at her. Ava said, “Welcome, Miss Mercer. The final bid is the amount of money your dates pay at the auction for the chance to spend the evening with you.”

  “The auction?” He heart began racing. What the hell was this place?

  “Why, of course. Don’t worry, dear, this is perfectly legal. Just a fun little game rich boys like to play.”

  “Right…” I had a strong urge to leave right then. To just storm out of the club and get a breath of fresh air and forget about all this.

  Think of Decla
n. Think of Declan.

  I didn’t move and listened to Ava’s instructions. There was still forty minutes until the auction.

  When Ava left, the rest of the girls spread around the club in twos and threes, and I was left alone at a table, along with another girl, nervously watching the place.

  After a few minutes of awkward silence, the girl said, “First time here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It has to be my fifteenth.”

  “Really? How does this work exactly?” I asked, turning my chair to face the girl.

  “One of these guys will bid on you, and whoever pays the most, promises you the world and tries to get into your pants.”

  I frowned.

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds. I paid off my student loans in three months, and had some money left over for a car! I’m Isabell, by the way.”

  I shook the girl’s hand. She was pretty. About the same age as me, but a little leaner and with black hair cut short. I could see why other girls wouldn’t want to hang out with her. Most of them were a good ten years younger, fresh out of high school and already looking for adventure – sex and parties. Isabell seemed like she was there for work, which wasn’t a bad thing.

  I had respect for a woman who made her way in the world, hell that’s why I was here.

  Doing this for me.

  For Declan.

  “Do you want to go to the bar?” she asked me. “I need to get a drink before this whole thing goes down. Helps with the nerves, you know?”

  “Sounds good.” A little liquid courage was just what I needed.

  Chapter 4

  Owen

  “Are you sure this is the place?” I asked the driver.

  “Positive, sir.”

  The last time I’d been at the club there were lights and a red carpet and a long string of expensive cars. All I saw now was a nondescript bar with a generic name and a dirty sidewalk in front of it.

  “Find a spot, okay? I won’t be long.”

  There was a skinny guy at the entrance, tapping away on his phone. As I approached, the kid put the phone away and stood straight.