Don't Order Dog: 1 (Jeri Halston Series)

by C. T. Wente

  “How about these?” Derrick asked, picking up a vial containing two pink, oval-shaped pills.

  Christina stared at the vial in his hand, perplexed. Even though the pills were inside one of the handmade, silver-capped glass vials she’d found in Venice a few years ago, she had no idea what they were.

  “Let me see those,” she said, reaching out her hand.

  Derrick closed his fist around the vial and stepped back.

  “Oh, so these must be the good ones.”

  “Give me the fucking pills, Derrick.”

  He flashed her a boyish smile and walked over to the bar. Christina watched silently as he poured another tall vodka and then popped the pills into his mouth. “Bottoms up, baby,” he said as he swallowed back half of the glass. Christina shook her head disbelievingly.

  “Oh for fuck sake, Chrissy, what’s the problem?” he asked as he finished getting dressed. “Did I just rob you of dessert?”

  “I have no idea what you just took, you idiot.” She tossed the last of the vials back into the small bag. “So when you’re experiencing projectile vomiting in five minutes, or having a full-on epileptic seizure in the middle of this trivial little social event, don’t look at me.”

  Derrick put on his jacket and quickly studied himself in the mirror. Despite his thinning hair and soft, fleshy build, he held the posture of a man who commanded respect and attention. Watching as he adjusted his tie, Christina realized he was once again transforming back into the rigid, razor-sharp businessman and genius that everyone upstairs was expecting.

  Satisfied with his appearance, he turned and gave her a pensive stare.

  “If you can handle those little pills, I have no doubt I can too. But don’t worry, if I manage to get myself into some form of socially compromised position, you’ll be the last person I look to for sympathy and comfort. Now let’s go.”

  ∞

  The top deck of the Achilles II was washed in the vibrant colors of dance lights and disco balls as Derrick and Christine made their entrance. The same crowd that Christina had earlier avoided now smiled and greeted her excitedly as they appeared, and she surmised from the relaxed stares and the jovial sounds around her that a considerable amount of alcohol had been flowing in the short time she’d been below deck. A waiter immediately approached them with a fresh tray of champagne. Christina grabbed two while Derrick abruptly excused himself and started walking towards a tall, muscularly-built gentleman wearing a perfectly fitted gray suit standing nearby. She shot Derrick a fatal look as he glanced back at her, but he simply shrugged before turning and greeting the man warmly.

  Once more abandoned by Derrick and surrounded by strangers, Christina wandered towards a quiet corner of the railing to drink and sulk in peace. Dusk had deepened into a clear, moonless night, and the ship hummed peacefully as it moved across the calm, ink-black waters of the Caribbean. Christina stared out at the horizon, trying to determine exactly where the tapestry of diamond-baguette stars ended and the lights of the town along the shore began. The warm wind that had teased her dress earlier now rushed around her in short, angry gusts. She drank her champagne and breathed deeply, trying to forget the drama with Derrick downstairs. As much as she tried to focus on the enjoyment of her buzz, a heavy knot of frustration and anger twisted like a dull blade in her stomach.

  She stared out over the water, thinking about their relationship, and realized Derrick had grown more and more detached from her in the last several months. Not that it surprised her. Derrick had made it entirely clear from their first casual drink together that his business and his “ideas” came first. But what did surprise Christina, as she looked into the dark emptiness in front of her, was that she cared.

  Until now, she’d been content to enjoy Derrick’s company when he was in a good mood, and even more content to enjoy the benefits of epic, worldwide shopping sprees as atonement for when he wasn’t. Not that the relationship was one-sided. She wouldn’t have even looked at Derrick a few years earlier when she was an up-and-coming model for the Brooks & Hanna agency in Los Angeles. Back then, she was up to her twenty-two-inch waist in coveted advertising deals, flying from LA to New York or London almost weekly to fling attitude at the camera or the catwalk.

  But the on-camera stress had begun to fuel an off-camera drug addiction, and the only person who’d failed to see the destructive effects was Christina herself. Rumors of being an “impossible, drugged-up bitch” were just reaching full circulation around the modeling agencies when a leaked security cam video of Christina having sex with a respected Agency Executive went viral on the web and turned her ridiculously lucrative modeling career into vapor practically overnight. A year later, unemployed and semi-sober, Christina had found herself with limited options and an empty bank account. By the time she’d met Derrick, the playing ground was level. He saw the opportunity to date the hottest girl he could ever imagine, and she saw the opportunity to keep paying her mortgage.

  And now here she was, she thought contemptuously, half-drunk and half-high and staring into a dark night on a beautiful boat full of rich strangers and a boyfriend who couldn’t give a shit about her. If only things had gone differently she thought to herself. If only she were still a model. If only the drugs didn’t feel so goddamn good.

  If only everything she touched didn’t end up so fucking ruined.

  Christina was so deep in thought that she barely noticed the needle-thin trail of white that was moving across the water where she was staring. Even with a full sky of stars shining brilliantly overhead, without the moon it was too dark to see what it was, and she quickly dismissed it as the wake of a small fishing boat heading out to sea.

  Feeling slightly dizzy, she drained the flute of champagne in her hand before impulsively tossing it overboard, leaning her head over the stainless steel rail to watch it plummet three stories into the dark water below. “Oops,” she whispered shamelessly, giggling to herself. Still armed with a glass of champagne in her other hand, Christina turned and scanned the lively crowd. The band was playing a familiar Rolling Stones cover, and she watched with mild amusement as a group of senior-aged men lurched and strutted around the dance floor as their younger, doll-like wives laughed and clapped with encouragement. Just beyond the dance floor she noticed Derrick talking with his large friend, his head nodding slowly as the other man spoke intently.

  “Fuck this,” Christina mumbled to herself with a sudden sense of conviction. She drained the second flute of champagne and tossed it into the water below before straightening her dress and striding purposefully towards Derrick. She was halfway to him when a thin, forty-something blonde woman dressed in a floral-patterned Shibori ruffle, most likely Oscar de la Renta, stepped in front of her.

  “Oh my God,” the woman said, drawing out the words with a reverential southern accent. “That green looks absolutely amazing on you.” She dramatically held out her arms and arched her back to reveal a recent breast augmentation. “You simply must tell me where you got it.”

  Christina blinked at the woman quizzically, wondering where the cosmetically-altered cliché for annoying trophy wives had come from. “Excuse me?” she said.

  “Where did you get that sublime dress, darling?”

  “I don’t remember,” she replied impatiently. Christina knew in fact that she’d bought the dress at a boutique in Monaco two months ago, but at the moment she had no desire to discuss such details.

  “Well, it is almost as gorgeous as you are,” the woman replied, flashing a perfect smile as her significant cleavage cantilevered unnaturally over her slim frame.

  “Thanks. And where did you get those?” Christina asked, pointing at the woman’s chest as her eyes darted to find Derrick.

  “Get what, dear?”

  Christina gave her a sardonic smile.

  “Oh these?” the woman gasped with mock surprise, sweeping a hand gently across her bosom. “Well, let’s just say my third husband – god rest his soul – was good for something.” She l
aughed at her own joke before looking at Christina earnestly. “Though I must say, Dr. Drennon did a remarkable job. Are you in the market, dear?”

  “No,” Christina replied, “I just wanted to confirm they’re as fake as the rest of you. But thank you,” she said, grasping the hand of the woman affectionately. “At least now I know who to swim to if this fucking boat happens to sink tonight. Would you excuse me for a moment?”

  The stunned woman stared silently at Christina’s lithe figure as she walked away. Christina grabbed another full flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, sipping it with a menacing smirk as she walked towards her unsuspecting boyfriend. As she approached, the large gentleman Derrick was talking with locked his eyes on her and noticeably stiffened.

  “Hi there, fellas,” she said, resting her hand on Derrick’s shoulder and giving him an affectionate squeeze. She could feel him recoil in surprise under his Armani tuxedo. “Am I interrupting anything important?”

  Derrick looked at her with wild, dilated eyes for a brief moment, his expression a mixture of surprise and annoyance, before composing his face into a smile.

  “Hi babe. No, you’re not… not interrupting anything at all.” He wrapped his arm limply around her waist. “This is… uh, this is–”

  “Max Delaney,” the man said as he offered Christina his massive hand. “You must be Christina. Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise, Max,” she replied, shaking his hand. Standing next to him, she realized that Max was even larger than he looked from across the deck of the boat. As he released her hand, Christina couldn’t help but feel like a miniature person next to his sheer physical presence. “And thank you for not crushing my hand.”

  “Of course,” he replied, smiling warmly.

  “Max and I got caught up talking and… sorry, didn’t mean to ignore you. Yeah, so anyway, I was… what was I talking about?”

  “Derrick and I were just talking business nonsense,” Max said, folding his large arms across his massive chest as he rocked slowly on his feet. Christina noticed that, unlike every other guest on the boat, Max wasn’t drinking. “Nothing that interesting really… wouldn’t you agree, Derrick?”

  “Yeah, right, right,” Derrick replied quickly.

  “Well then, I’m glad I wasn’t invited to the conversation,” Christina said sarcastically, giving Derrick a harder squeeze as she smiled at him. He forced a strained smile before shooting a quick glance at his large companion.

  Max smiled silently at both of them.

  Christina was just about to speak when the band abruptly ended its set and the singer handed his microphone to a short, stocky bald man with a large nose and small, hawkish eyes.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, could I have your attention please?”

  Christina stood listlessly next to Derrick as the man wasted a few minutes thanking the band and cracking several outdated jokes that were marginally funny the first time around. She noticed that nearly everyone in the audience, including Derrick, laughed on cue at the short man as he paused after every punch line, and decided he must be someone of importance to command such a communal ass-kissing. Only Christina and the towering pillar of muscle named Max standing next to her watched straight-faced as the man finally got to the point.

  “But anyway, we’re not here tonight to listen to my bad jokes,” he continued, his face turning serious as his dark, narrow eyes searched through the crowd. “We’re here to celebrate a momentous milestone for our company, and to honor and celebrate the man whose vision will help lead us into the future.”

  Christina jumped in surprise as the people around her erupted in applause. Several faces turned expectantly to Derrick as he glanced around with a smug grin on his face. He took a sip of what appeared to Christina to be a large vodka on the rocks as his eyes flickered quickly over to Max. She then looked over at Max, who met her gaze with a wide, cautious grin as his large hands slowly clapped with a distinctly audible concussion.

  “Ladies and gentleman, all of you know Derrick Birch, a man whose genius in alternative energy development is perhaps only matched – as I’ve certainly learned today – by his skills of negotiation.”

  The crowd again erupted in laughter.

  “Derrick represents the kind of rogue visionary that can radically change the course of even large, multi-conglomerate companies like our own,” the little bald man continued, his baritone voice measured and authoritative. “And as CEO, I’ve learned all-too-well what can happen when companies fail to recognize the need for change, or fail to cultivate the people who provide the ideas and innovations upon which we all come to depend.”

  Christina listened as loud murmurs of agreement were echoed by the crowd. The importance of the evening once again struck her as the CEO of one of the world’s largest companies suddenly looked over at Derrick with a practiced smile and continued his speech.

  “And so tonight, in recognition of this endless pursuit to find the idea-makers and innovators who hold our future, I am honored to announce one very large victory.”

  He paused and dramatically raised his glass in the air.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, shareholders and executive colleagues… it gives me great pleasure to announce that Derrick Birch has officially agreed to head our alternative energy division for the next five years!”

  Christina flinched again as the crowd suddenly erupted with shouts and applause. Hands quickly brushed past her to pat Derrick on the back, and she resignedly assumed the role of a loving and loyal girlfriend by smiling and nodding to the men and women around her. Derrick tightened his grip around her waist, and she turned to find him staring at her intensely.

  “Are you okay, D?” she whispered, her mouth brushing against his ear.

  “Not in the least,” he replied, smiling back at her with unfocused eyes. A pang of fear flashed through Christina as she held Derrick’s unnerving stare, and she wondered again just what the hell those pills were that he’d taken from her purse earlier.

  “Do you want to go downstairs?”

  “Are you kidding me?” he exclaimed, slurring his words slightly. “I’m a fucking rock star right now. I can’t leave in the middle of the moment these magnanimous-sounding pricks are pretending to like me.”

  “Jesus Christ, you are the most stubborn goddamn asshole on the planet,” Christina hissed under her breath. “Do you know that?”

  “Yes I do.”

  “Now, we’ve spent a long, grueling day ironing out the details of this little agreement,” the CEO continued, rolling his eyes sarcastically. “And, yes, we still have some more documents to sign in the morning, but I wanted each and every one of you to be present tonight to share in the celebration of finally acquiring Petronus Energy’s newest secret weapon,” he paused for effect, then swept his arm towards Derrick. “Mr. Derrick Birch!”

  Derrick released his hold on Christina and took an unsteady step forward. “Thank you! Thanks everyone,” he shouted, raising his glass to the CEO before draining his glass empty. Applause once again swept through the crowd as the band immediately erupted into the opening chords of “Start Me Up” by the Rolling Stones. The crowd toasted and cheered, then immediately refocused their attention on the music and the dance floor. Christina crossed her arms and glowered at her boyfriend as he stumbled back to her.

  “Need another drink?” he asked as he stood swaying in front of her, his hands fumbling as he tried to tear the bowtie from his neck.

  “Derrick, what the fuck are you doing?”

  “I’m securing my future,” he replied, grinning at her with the hint of a sneer. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “I’m wondering if the man I’m here with is going to make a complete ass of himself in front of his new boss this evening.” She grabbed the empty glass from his hand. “Is stumbling around drunk and high on god-knows-what your idea of ‘securing your future’?”

  Derrick threw back his head in laughter, stumbling back and nearly falling in the process.


  “Jesus Christ,” Christina hissed, keeping her expression neutral as she grabbed his arm. “Is this honestly funny to you, D?”

  Derrick took a moment to compose himself before smiling at Christina with large, drug-glazed eyes. “It’s hard to say really. Yes… and, um, no.” He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her roughly into his chest. “But I know you’d be acting the same way as I am if you knew even half of what’s happening right now. So do me a favor and wipe that judgmental fucking expression off your face.”

  Christina stared at her boyfriend silently. Even though he stood only inches away from her, she felt like he was miles away, and growing more distant with each second.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, D.”

  “I know,” he said quietly, releasing her from his grip. “And you’re never going to.”

  Christina sensed the presence of Max’s huge figure looming next to her even before she looked over to see him. He nodded curtly at her before fixing his stare onto Derrick.

  “Sorry to interrupt. Derrick, can I speak to you for a second?”

  Derrick stared up at his massive colleague for a moment before nodding. Christina saw a flicker of something in Derrick’s stare that looked eerily close to terror, but as quickly as it appeared it was gone. He turned and met her stare.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said, looking at her for a brief moment before staring off into the dark night. “And I’ll bring some more champagne with me.”

  “Great. Have fun,” she said, waving dismissively as she turned to watch the band. She felt Derrick linger for a moment before walking off with Max. A few minutes later, Christina glanced over her shoulder to see the two men talking at the front of the ship. She noticed with alarm that Derrick was sitting on the bow rail, perched precariously over the water as he laughed at something Max was saying. She started walking towards them, but then stopped herself. If Derrick had made anything clear in his actions and words tonight, it was that she was becoming an intrusion in his life. She knew the last thing he’d want is his annoying girlfriend looking out for his safety. “Whatever,” she said under her breath, forcing herself to turn back and stare sullenly at the dancing crowd.