Wasted (Dirty Boys of Chicago #1)

by Morgan Black

  This time as I saw the bouncer, he looked me over once before allowing me to go in. I didn't really look like the girl that had shown up only half an hour ago. Monique was sitting in a chair at the opposite end of the room right next to the Madame's desk. She looked worried, and I didn't like it.

  “Calla, thank you for coming. We need to discuss your testimony for tomorrow.”

  I sighed. “There something else that we need to discuss first.”

  “What is that, dear?” the Madame said, sitting down in an overstuffed chair next to Monique.

  Even though it wasn't warm in the room, I was sweating, and I stood over them, feeling smaller than they were even though I was the only person standing in the room. “Hudson James was the one who told the detective that he thought I might've killed the judge.”

  The Madame put her hand on her chest. “But, why would he do that, Calla? I mean, unless you really did kill him.” She looked at me seriously. Perhaps she had a girl who had done it before. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised.

  “No! No, I had nothing to do with it. I promise. I didn't even know anything about him.”

  Monique squinted her eyes. “Then why would he say that? I mean Mr. James has been coming here for years, and not only are you the first girl that he took home, but he took you halfway across the world. Why would he then go and throw you under the bus?”

  “I don't know. I thought we were having a great time. I have no idea why he did what he did except that he said that he owed the detective a favor. And I don't know what any of that means, but I think it has something to do with his business.”

  The Madame looked at Monique, and gave her all-knowing eyes. Suddenly, I felt like I was the only one in the room who didn't really know what Hudson James did for a living. “I need to know what's really going on. The truth is the only thing that’s going to get me out of this mess.”

  The Madame stood up and put her hands on my shoulders. “You can't tell the truth. You know the rules.”

  I chewed on my lower lip. “I would never talk about this place. I know the rules.”

  The Madame nodded, “Then let’s get to work.”

  Monique grabbed her briefcase that was sitting on the floor next to her. “I've made some notes. Let's go over them.”

  We sat there for forty-five minutes, reading over her notes, and her quizzing me on exactly what happened that night. I explained it to her just as I had the detective. My testimony was smooth. Monique didn't think that they'd have any reason to continue questioning me after the investigation was over. She still assumed that the wife had done it, and that it would come out during the trial. “Just be careful about how you word things. And don't let them fluster you. Being calm is key.”

  I nodded. “Got it.”

  “Well, I think it's about time you two go to work.” The Madame nodded. “Don't take any dates tonight, though. You can be one of the hostesses at the bar. You need the rest for tomorrow.”

  “Yes ma'am, thank you.”

  I tried to fake a smile as I stood, and then walked out. Somehow, it had seemed so quiet and private behind the curtain, but inside, the club was hopping. I didn't even know that we opened on Tuesdays, but there must've been some sort of private party because all the men looked about the same age. I went over to the bar and grabbed a tray of shots before walking around and starting to offer them to the men in business suits.

  “Hey, honey. I'll have one of those over here.” A middle-aged man who was balding called over to me. He snapped his fingers, and I briskly walked over and bent slightly as I had been taught while holding the tray. There was a very bunny-esque feeling to the way that we delivered drinks.

  “Here you are, Sir. Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “Some peanuts at the table would be good, darlin’.”

  I nodded and smiled sweetly. “I'll get right on that for you.”

  I hauled ass back to the bar, but when I tried to reach behind the counter for the peanuts, someone grabbed my hand behind me. I turned around to shake them off, but I was met by the dark eyes that constantly reeled me in. Hudson had responded to my e-mail, just not online.

  “You're here.”

  “You asked me to come.”

  That was true. I had.

  “Can we talk? Privately?” He nodded to an alcove near the stairs. It was dark.

  “Fine.”

  I set down my tray on the bar and followed him.

  As soon as we were cloaked in darkness he pressed his body against mine.

  “I missed you.”

  I sighed, “I know.”

  He chewed on his lower lip. It turned me on. I knew I shouldn’t be here with him. I shouldn’t want him to kiss me. But I did so desperately it hurt.

  “Did you miss me?”

  “I don't know what to think. I think of France, the beach, and the fact that I think I was falling in love with you.”

  “I know I was. And I know that's against the rules, and that it's not what this place is about. And I don't care about any of that, I care about you.” He put his hand on either sides of my cheeks, and pulled me in to him. Our lips met like a magnetic force was pulling us together, even though my brain was screaming to stop. I didn’t care what my head thought. For this moment it was just Hudson and I in the darkness. His hands moved down my body and onto my hips. He pushed against the wall. I turned my head and he laid sweet kisses down my neck onto my collar bone. I was worried someone would see, but part of me didn’t care. As his lips brushed against the top of my breasts I inhaled deeply.

  He had betrayed me, he had hurt me, and he could ruin my life. But, in his hands, I felt safe, content, and like I could trust him again. But, even while my brain and my heart disagreed, the logic won out. I pulled away.

  “What do you want Hudson?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything. Why you told the detective I was involved in a case I have nothing to do with. What you do for a living, why you’re so secretive all the time. Everything.”

  He shook his head. “I wanted to protect you.”

  “From whom?”

  “From the people I work for.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I work in pharmaceuticals. But not the legal kind. I give drugs to people who have not been approved for them medically. I deal with a lot of really sick people. It's kind of the reason I guard my heart so carefully. I’ve lost a lot in my life.”

  “You help people?”

  “Kind of. But the people I work for, they don’t do the same thing I do. And they certainly don’t want anyone knowing about me or what I do. You’re a liability Calla. I had to tell the detective about the judge so he wouldn’t suspect how close we are. If they knew they’d come looking for you.”

  “Looking for me?”

  “Yes. And if they thought that you knew about what they did, they would end you.”

  I shuddered. Hudson was dangerous. It was more than my heart on the line, it was my life. I pulled away from him.

  He grabbed my upper arm and pulled me back into him. “I needed to see you again. I had to explain…”

  I interrupted him. “Explain what? Explain how you sold me out to the detective?” I noticed a few sets of eyes now on us, so I lowered my voice. “What the hell were you going to explain, Hudson? How you’re a drug dealer?”

  “It wasn't what you think. I had to keep you safe; I should've told you from the beginning, but I had to protect you.”

  “From what? These drug dealers? I can take care of myself thanks.”

  “Me. And my life. Everything about me screams danger. But you didn’t see it like that. I had to make you understand.”

  I yanked my arm away from him. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  I tried to take a deep breath but my chest hurt when I looked into his eyes. For the first time since I had met Hudson, he looked like a scared child. Like the best thing that ever happened to him was being ripped
away, and there was nothing he could do about it. The hurt in his eyes was crushing me.

  “Hudson, it's over. It has to be.”

  He shook his head. “I won't let you go that easily.”

  “That's not your choice.”

  I turned on my heel, and walked away. I couldn't let anyone see how embarrassed I was, so I continued walking all the way to the dressing room. I curled up on one of the chaise lounges, and just let myself cry. I realized that this might be one of the only solitary moments I would have for a long time. And sometimes you just need a moment to take it all in, and everything that was going on around you. And what was going on around me, sucked. The club had chewed me up and spit me out and I was drowning in my own despair. But I only let myself wallow for a few minutes before I sat up, wiped my face, and got ready to go home. I had to get ready for court tomorrow; I had to defend my innocence.

  Chapter Seven

  I scrubbed my hands in the sink for what felt like the millionth time. I had never been in a courthouse before. It was kind of scary, knowing I was around real criminals. Perhaps in the bathroom with one right now. I looked around me timidly when the door swung open. In walked Mrs. Paxton. The judge’s wife. I had seen her on TV. Luckily she walked right up to the mirror and hardly noticed my presence.

  “Can you believe the press out there?” She laughed, checking her reflection.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “The press dear. They’re everywhere. Trying to get a glimpse at the little slut who killed my husband I assume.”

  “Oh.” She knew they were here to see her. Was she trying to figure out if I was the girl from the club?

  “I swear this case is giving me so many wrinkles my Botox guy is going to have a field day.”

  I didn’t respond.

  She shrugged. “Good luck with whatever you’re here for honey. Watch out for the lawyers, they’ll eat you alive.” She cackled as she left and I considered going to the bathroom again. I thought I might pee myself I was so scared.

  Minutes later I sat in the wooden chair in the back of the courtroom, waiting for my name to be called. I was jittery, and my legs wouldn’t stay still. Monique sighed and gave me a look for the fifth time. I knew she was getting annoyed, but I was terrified. Not only could I say something on the stand that would accidentally incriminate me, but if I was proven innocent there was a band of drug dealers who might kill me. I stared out the window next to me and considered my options. Monique had a plan and I just had to follow it. And I had to pray it worked out in my favor.

  The lawyer stopped talking again and it snapped me back to my current reality. They had already questioned his driver and his daughter, and both were visibly upset about his death. I worried that I would look guilty because I didn't really care about him. I certainly felt bad that he was gone, but I didn't know him well enough to be sad about it. I was afraid that I would look bitter and cold.

  I leaned over and whispered to Monique, “Should I look emotional?”

  She shook her head but didn't say anything.

  I looked out the window that was next to me once more, and tried to think about my freedom. A lot was on the line here, and I was hopeful that it would all be over soon.

  “We’d like to call Calla Hart to the stand, please.”

  Monique whispered, “Follow the plan.”

  I stood and straightened my skirt before crossing in front of Monique and walking up the aisle onto the stand. I had never been so terrified in my entire life.

  As I passed Mrs. Paxton she gave me a steely glare. So she hadn’t known who I was in the bathroom, she wasn’t playing dumb.

  “Please state your name for the court records.”

  “Calla Elizabeth Hart.” My palms were sweaty. I looked to Monique for a surge of confidence but I couldn’t find her in the crowd.

  The lawyer stood in front of me in a black suit with a dark gold tie around his neck. He was in his late twenties, and I was surprised that someone so young worked for the District Attorney's Office.

  “Ms. Hart, can you please explain to the court how are you knew Judge Paxton?”

  “Yes. I actually didn't know him very well. We had only just met.”

  I heard the wife mumble, “liar,” under her breath. She wasn’t going to make this easy on me.

  “And did you know who he was?”

  “Not really. He had told me his line of work, but that's all I was really privy to.”

  He put his hands behind his back, and walked back and forth in front of me. Monique had warned me that this was a scare tactic, and I was to remain calm. “So, you knew he was a judge?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “Did he tell you he was married?”

  I shook my head. “No, he didn't mention that.”

  He stopped right in front of me, and looked me in the eye. “Were you going to have relations with him that evening?”

  I didn't know how to respond. Monique hadn’t mentioned that question. “I don't know. I don't think so. He invited me up to his room to talk after we met at the bar. I don't think that his intentions were to get me in bed.”

  Mrs. Paxton shook her head. I could tell she didn’t believe me.

  “But he didn't tell you about his wife?”

  “No. He didn't mention her, as I've already stated.”

  He nodded, and then turned away for me again, walking over to the table where he had been sitting. “Can you tell me why he wrote a check for four thousand dollars that evening?”

  My breath caught in my chest. Monique had said the money was untraceable; no one would have known that I was paid. But this guy sure as hell sounded like he knew he was talking about.

  “No. I don't know why he wrote a check for that amount of money, or to whom he wrote it. We didn't talk about money.”

  That wasn’t a lie, per se.

  He made a face. “You’re sure? You have no idea when he wrote that check?”

  I shook my head. “Definitely not. I mean we had a tab at the bar, but it couldn’t have been even close to that much.” I tried to act like I wasn’t sure, confused even. The lawyer moved on.

  “There was a time when the two of you weren't together. Why is that?”

  This one I was prepared for. “He invited me up to his hotel room, but I wanted to freshen up first. We had been in a smoky bar, and I smelled terrible. I went home to change, and he sent a town car for me. Then, I went to the room and I waited.”

  “And where did Judge Paxton go while you freshened up?” He had a sarcastic tone to his voice.

  “I don't know. He didn't say. But I assume he went home.”

  “You assume?”

  I tried to breathe. I looked over to the jury and I could tell one older woman was assessing me. She was trying to decide if I was being truthful. It was terrifying.

  “Miss Hart?”

  “I’m sorry. Yes. He had mentioned wanting to relax at home. Like I said, he didn't mention his wife.”

  “Right. Why would he want to relax?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you think he wanted to take something to relax?”

  The plan was set perfectly, just as Monique had said at the club. She was better at this than I had given her credit for. “You mean, like a pill?” I looked at the wife, her skin was turning red. She knew what I was doing.

  “Yes, some type of medication.”

  “I would ask his pharmacist that. Or his wife. Not me. I wouldn’t know.”

  Suddenly, the wife stood up from the defense table, “Of course you would, you little bitch! You knew he wanted to sleep with you! You knew it! You’re just like all the rest. I couldn’t let it go on!”

  The whole courtroom gasped at her admission of guilt. It wasn’t a smoking gun, but it was enough. Monique had been right; set off the wife, and I would be in the clear.

  “Order, order in the court! Mr. Defasy, I suggest you contain your client.”

  The defense lawyer stood calmly. “Yes, Your
Honor, I apologize for her outburst.”

  The wife sat back down, but it was clear that she was the one who had ended Judge Paxton's life. She had had enough of his call girls, and I just happened to be the unlucky soul that was with him the night she ended it. Monique had heard at the club that he took Viagra on occasion, even though he wasn’t currently sleeping with any of the girls. The wife had switched the pill. We knew it. It was her fault.

  The lawyer from the District Attorney's Office turned on me once more, but his questions lightened up significantly. “When was the last time you spoke to Judge Paxton?”

  “At the bar. When we made plans to meet at his hotel room.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Hart.” He turned to address the judge. “The prosecution rests, Your Honor.”

  The defense didn't even cross-examine me. The lawyer knew that he couldn't win the case, and he requested a recess instead. As Monique and I walked out of the courthouse, I assumed he was talking to his client about cutting a deal. She had no other way out. I was free. The media didn’t even notice me leave. No questions about the club. My secret was safe.

  Chapter Eight

  I sat on the floor in front of Alexis watching the news just a few hours later. The reporters had been right the entire time; Mrs. Paxton was to blame. She poisoned her husband in her home when he stopped there after going to the club. She was a murderer, and I was off the hook. I felt sorry for the judge; he had seemed like such a nice gentleman. I really didn’t even think she had anything to worry about.

  But I was safe, at least for now. I still had to face the fact that Hudson working for some type of pharmaceutical mob, and that they could come after me at any moment, but I trusted Monique that my connections would keep me safe. I still didn't understand how Hudson could think that turning me over to the police would keep me safe, but, somewhere deep down, I believed that he thought it was the only way. Like maybe if he hadn’t made me so angry, and if I hadn’t left France so quickly, that they would've come after me. They would've known how much he cared about me. Alexis sat behind me on the couch, braiding my hair, and it was comforting.