Vivian, Midnight Call Girl (Iron Orchids Book 6)

by Danielle Norman

  “Maybe. My shoulders are killing me.” I reached back and massaged the knot before stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel. I hated when we had away games; every locker room was set up differently, every arena had a different vibe. I headed to the locker that I had claimed earlier and slipped back into my suit. The only part that I was permitted to forgo since we were going straight to the hotel was my tie, but we couldn’t have more than two buttons unfastened, and we still had to wear an undershirt. It was the little details like this that made what should be a ten-page contract sixty pages.

  Shoving my workout clothes into a laundry bag with my name on it, I dropped it into the cart along with my towel as I left.

  Security guards who looked like NFL linebackers lined the way for me out of the host arena. I pushed open the back door to the parking lot and was immediately assaulted by shouting women.

  “Aaron, over here.”

  “I love you, Aaron Skkye.”

  “Aaron. Aaron.”

  Holding up one hand to give them a wave, I stayed far away and made my way to the bus. Dominic and a few others hopped out of line to sign autographs and bask in the attention, trying to see if any of the groupies were worth elevating.

  What people didn’t realize was that just like ball players, people who referred to themselves as ball bunnies and jersey chasers had their own first string, second string, and benchwarmers. We always saw them hanging around in our hotel lobby. All it would take was me whipping it out and a ball bunny would be on her knees sucking me off.

  I took the first seat available as the rest of the team climbed aboard. Once the driver closed the door, Maggie, our team secretary, a middle-aged woman with fire engine red hair, stood up.

  “Listen up,” Maggie announced. “We are on floor eleven and there will be guards at all stairway exits. If you listed your family as attending, then they have already received a copy of the key. Bus leaves tomorrow morning at ten, don’t miss it. Should you miss our departure, you will have to explain why to Miss Romero.” Maggie said the same thing every time we got on a bus: she reminded us of some details and then gave the same warning and included the same consequences.

  Carmen Romero was the owner of the Lightning, and she was a ball-breaker. None of us wanted to be in her crosshairs.

  The bus pulled in front of the Conrad, and Maggie stepped down. As we got off the bus, she handed us our room keys. Our luggage was already in our rooms.

  “Aaron, come on man, come hang with us,” Hakeem said as he walked down the steps of the bus behind me.

  “Nah.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I’ve got a bottle of scotch calling my name up in the room.”

  Ignoring the next throng of women shouting, I grabbed my key and headed for the elevator. When I stepped off, I nodded to the security guard, then went to find my room.

  The room itself was about as standard as they got with a full bathroom, minibar, and bed. Hell, at least I had a decent view of the skyline.

  I stripped from my suit and tugged on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt before cracking the seal on my bottle of Macallan 24 sitting in my suitcase.

  My phone rang, but it wasn’t a number I was familiar with, so I ignored it. Grabbing the remote, I scrolled through the channels until I landed on ESPN, but I had to pause when my phone rang again from the same number.

  “Hello?”

  “Erin, where’s Erin?”

  “Um, this is Aaron.”

  The woman, who was obviously drunk, laughed as if I had just said the funniest thing ever. “Really, stop teasing. Get Erin for me.”

  “This is Aaron, who is this?”

  “Erin? Whoa, you sick?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Your voice, it doesn’t sound like you, it’s so deep. Head rush.”

  I chuckled. “Who are you?”

  “Erin, don’t be stupid, it’s me, Vivian.”

  Deciding to just play along, I smiled. “Hey, Vivian, how are you?”

  “Not good. I’m so fucking lonely. I know, I know, you always tell me that it’s time for me to move on. Ugh. Do you know how long it’s been since I had sex? Can your cherry grow back?”

  I coughed, and some highly prized Macallan 24 spewed from my mouth. “I don’t think cherries grow back.”

  “Damn it.” Vivian sighed.

  “As far as your sex life, I have no clue how long it’s been.”

  “It’s been since Eric.” Vivian started crying.

  Okay, I didn’t do crying females, maybe because all my life it had been just my addict mom and me. I was the one who had an excuse to cry, we would be on the move for days at a time with little food and even less money. But it would be Mom crying in fits between her highs.

  Vivian was still crying about how much she missed Eric, and I sort of felt sorry for her. I had never been in love, but I could guess that breakups were hard for both sides. “Why, Erin, why? Why did he have to leave me?”

  “I don’t know, sometimes we all just need to move on, you know, try something different.”

  “Need to move on? He didn’t need to move on. We were planning a trip for our five-year anniversary.” She panted. “What are you saying? You think Eric wanted to leave me? How could you? I loved him, and I know that he loved me.”

  Vivian was on a nonstop flow of talk, so I used my time to refill my glass. This poor woman, whoever she was, just needed to vent.

  “It’s all that . . . that . . . asshole’s fault,” Vivian shouted.

  Oh, there was another woman. “Why did you call me?” I asked.

  “What? You don’t want me in your life anymore?” Vivian hiccupped. “I need you, Erin.”

  Her tone was broken enough to squeeze a bit of sympathy out of me. I’d never been needed. Well, except for by my mother when she needed me to bail her ass out of jail, or when she claimed to need food when all she wanted was money for drugs. Still, I wasn’t whomever this chick meant to call, so I knew her need wasn’t directed at me.

  Vivian’s words became muffled, and I heard the faint sound of shuffling and things being knocked over. “Vivian, you there? You okay?”

  “Yeah, hold your panties . . . santies . . . aunties . . . um, what rhymes with panties?”

  Chuckling, I tried to rack my brain, but I couldn’t think of anything either. “Not sure.”

  “Noooot a poet, I know it.” Vivian drawled her words out. “That’s okay, I grabbed the mini wines from the fridge.”

  Mini wines? “Where are you?”

  “I’m at the hotel, silly, remember? I had that wedding to go to that you bailed on. Oh my god. Crazy. Why are people like that?”

  I didn’t want to ask whose wedding she was talking about, and since I had an early flight to catch, I figured my questions would just keep her talking longer.

  “They don’t get it. But you do, I know you do. He was your brother, but he was my husband.” Vivian cried for a few seconds and then went silent.

  Was? Oh shit. Exactly how close were she and her brother-in-law?

  “Viv, I’m sorry that the wedding upset you.”

  “Yeah, I . . . I just hate to see . . .” She sniffled. “People make a mockery out of marriage. Eric is never coming back to me. It’s been four years, and it still hurts. No one wants to get that call, no one. Eric was their lieutenant, and they had to be the ones to give me the news. Oh god, what am I going to do?” Her words were fading more and more as time went on.

  I grabbed my iPad and did a search. I only knew a few things: he was a lieutenant, he passed away four years ago, and was survived by his wife, Vivian. Since her area code was four-oh-seven, I started with Orlando and then entered the rest of the information I knew. It didn’t take long before the search engine brought up story after news story.

  “Sergeant Haines, posthumously promoted to lieutenant.”

  “Erskine Sello found guilty on six charges of second-degree murder and two counts of third-degree murder for the death of his girlfriend, their daughte
r, and six Orange County deputies.”

  The Orlando Journal quoted Vivian as saying, “My husband was a good man; he always did what was right. He never hurt anyone. And this is what he gets?”

  I remembered when this happened, I had just been drafted, and it was all over the news. Since our home stadium was within walking distance of the Orange County courthouse and sheriff’s office, we had front row seats to the protests and news coverage.

  “I’ll never find love again. I had my one chance . . .” And then Vivian fell silent again, only this time, her words were followed by a soft whistle of air that sounded like snoring. “Good night, sweet, get some rest. Things will get better, I promise.” I disconnected and then crawled into my own bed thinking of the sad woman who’d called my number by mistake.

  Vivian

  The ringing, oh my god, the ringing in my head wouldn’t stop. I grabbed the extra pillow and threw it over my head, tucking it tight to try to escape the sound. Holy shit, it had been so long since I had a hangover. Headaches, I remember. Cringing at bright lights and loud noises, sure. But ringing? Never.

  I sighed when it stopped, but then cringed when it started up again.

  Fuck. I tossed the pillow to the ground and searched for my phone. I was sort of shocked that it was nestled against my face and I hadn’t realized it. Pulling it away from me, I closed one eye and tried to focus on who was calling . . . Stella.

  “Whattt?”

  “Wow, you sound like death ran over.”

  “Thanks, I feel like someone stuffed me like a pillow and all this cotton is coming out of my mouth.”

  “Well, I’m your morning wakeup call. Don’t forget we are all meeting for lunch. So, get your ass up, I’ll be there in thirty to get you.” Stella was always so bossy.

  “But . . .”

  “No buts, I told you yesterday when I dropped you off for that calamity of a wedding that I’d pick you up. I’m heading over now. Get ready. You don’t want me to pull your ass out of bed.”

  “I’d like to see you try.” I regretted the words once I had said them.

  “Bwahaha,” Stella cackled. “Challenge accepted.” She hung up, and I rolled from bed determined to be ready when she arrived; that woman was crazy-ass scary.

  I stumbled into the large shower with faux gold knobs, shower head, and frosted glass. It reminded me of when Eric used to sneak into the shower behind me. I would pretend not to know he was there, but even when my head was under the rushing water and my eyes were closed, there was no missing the sudden cold swish of air that blew in when the shower door was opened. I sighed at the memory of the way he would press my hands against the cool tile and take me from behind.

  The memory made me smile.

  I was still smiling as I dried off and got dressed. I had just zipped up my suitcase when the phone rang, not my cell but the hotel room.

  “Hello?” I was sort of confused why anyone would call me here.

  “Miss Haines, this is Mr. Whiteside the hotel manager, we need you to come down to the front lobby.”

  “Okay, is everything okay?”

  Before he could say anything, I heard the problem. “You tell her to get down here right now. This isn’t over, no way. She’s mine, damn it, mine. Vivian, I love you, love you long time. Remember, remember Long Duck Dong?”

  I shook my head; Stella was quoting Sixteen Candles. “I’m sorry, I’ll be right down. Tell her that we’ll get her meds and not to worry.”

  “I’ll let you tell her. But please hurry, she is quoting Shakespeare to the large rhododendron in the center of our lobby.”

  I couldn’t hold back my laugh as I hung up the phone, grabbed my bags, dropped the keycard on the nightstand, and left the room.

  When the elevator doors opened at the lobby level, Stella was standing there twirling her hair and looking as if she were talking to a chair. Security officers were speaking to her, and people were standing around watching the town freak, but she didn’t so much as glance their way. “Oh, there you are,” Stella shouted and ran to me in her favorite Phoebe-Buffay way, with knees close and heels kicking out.

  I held up one hand trying to ward off impact. “Calm down, Stella. We will refill your meds and get you back to the home. Don’t worry.”

  She ground to a halt, looked at me with wide eyes, and then started laughing. “Well played, bitch, well played. Can we go now?”

  I took a step toward the front desk and the four clerks in their navy blue suits and ties. They stood in shock until one—I assumed he was the manager because he looked a bit more pompous—realized that I was going to leave Stella unattended.

  “You’re all set, Miss Haines, we have you all checked out. Your receipt has been sent to your email address on file. Take care of your friend.”

  I couldn’t look the man in the eyes. If I did, I would probably lose it. “Thank you.” I wasn’t shocked that no one said they hoped to see me soon. Really, who would want me to come back with friends like this? The woman had no shame in her game.

  Before we stepped into the revolving door, Stella thrust a pair of sunglasses toward me. “You’ll need these. I have water and Excedrin in the car.”

  “You are forgiven.” I slid the glasses up my nose to shield my light-sensitive eyes.

  Stella loudly, obnoxiously said what everyone else was thinking but was scared to say, but she was the sweetest, kindest person at the same time. She let me sleep the entire way to Rocco’s Tacos.

  “Wake up, sleepy head,” Stella sing-songed.

  I groaned as I uncurled myself from the seat and got out. For some dumbass reason, the sun seemed to be shinning brighter than it had been a few minutes ago. “Who all is meeting us?”

  “Everyone probably.” Stella flicked her wrist as if it were no big deal, but more people meant more noise, and that was definitely a big deal . . . a huge, ginormous fucking deal.

  We walked into Rocco’s and I cringed, the sound shooting nails through my head. It took a moment for me to acclimate before I pasted on a smile and waved to a couple of guys I knew from Sixes, the bar that I owned. We wound around a large bar area and headed straight for the back. If the weather was nice, we loved sitting outside. Rocco’s had a great area with big, plush, deep furniture that you could really relax into as you took in the lake view.

  “Wow, please tell me the look you are sporting is because someone rocked your world last night,” Harley, a dear friend and deputy, said as I dropped into an empty seat.

  “Yep, two in fact.” Everyone stopped talking as if I’d pressed mute. I laughed because nothing changed in this group. If anyone even alludes to sex, they turn into bloodhounds. “Their names were Korbel and Brut, we had a blast, only problem was it didn’t last very long, which is why I’m like this today.”

  “Oh, you poor baby,” Sophie soothed as she took the seat on my right and Leo took a seat to my left. I offered them the best smile I could, and they patted my shoulders in sympathy. They were great friends.

  I loved being around friends who knew me from when Eric and I opened the bar, who were with me when I first learned how to ride a motorcycle, and friends that I had added along the way. We tried to get together once a month, but unfortunately not everyone always could.

  “Sooo, tell me just how bad the wedding was.” Stella smiled as everyone leaned in to listen just as our waiter approached. He was maybe in his early twenties and was clearly fighting a tough battle against acne.

  “I’m Arwin, what can I get you?”

  He turned his attention to me first. “I’d like two steak tacos, a mango margarita, and the largest glass of water you have and keep them coming, please.” I gave him my cheekiest smile.

  As soon as he got all the orders and promised to be back with chips with guac and salsa, everyone turned their attention back to me.

  “Sooo, tell us,” Stella demanded.

  “Do y’all remember when I told you about a girl from my sorority who was the maid of honor at a wedding I went t
o last year? The one who stood up to give a speech at the reception, told the bride that she was so excited they were best friends, and that the day would always be special to the both of them. Everyone thought she was talking about the bride and groom, but then she announced her engagement and spent the rest of her speech showing off her ring?”

  “I would have stabbed her,” Leo growled. Leo was a motorcycle mechanic and although soft spoken, she could be a tad scary when it came to catty women.

  “We remember.” Stella was nodding, since she already knew some shit had gone down at the wedding last night. She just didn’t know what it was.

  “But that was like a year ago, right?” Ariel asked. “What’s that have to do with yesterday?”

  “The wedding I went to yesterday, was that maid of honor’s wedding.” I paused and everyone nodded to show they were following along. “She asked the former bride to be her matron of honor.”

  “No shit,” Stella cackled. “Not only is the woman heartless, but also she’s a dumbass.”

  “Anyway, all the other bridesmaids who were in the first wedding were waiting, knowing that at any moment, all hell was gonna break loose. When the wedding coordinator ran in saying the flower girl was tossing out blue petals instead of the ivory ones she was supposed to, we all figured the shit was going to hit the fan, but nothing happened. Then when the napkins on the head table were all exchanged for blue ones, we all braced ourselves. Still . . . nothing. When the former bride started speaking, she had a photo montage for the happy couple projected behind her. The last picture was a sonogram image.”

  “Oh fuck,” Stella hissed and then coughed because she’d breathed in a lungful of her margarita.

  “Yep, she happily tells her BFF that, once again, they can share another special date because she had just found out she was having a boy. She had turned the wedding into a freaking gender reveal party.”

  Groans echoed all around me with the occasional, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” or, “With friends like that, who needs enemies?”

  Arwin chose that moment to deliver our food, and I stared at his name once again; it tickled something in my brain. “Can I get anything else for you ladies?” he asked. When we all said we were good, he left and all eyes returned to me.