by J. P. Comeau
Roxy giggled. “And you know next month he won’t have one. So, you can make your move then.”
As the girls argued in front of me, my eyes searched the balcony for Zane. I found him standing at one of the tables near the railing, his face stuck in his phone again. His eyes glared. His fingers flew at lightning speed across the keyboard. Something had him riled up, for sure.
But, I also got the feeling this kind of place wasn’t his scene.
It’s not mine, either. Don’t worry.
Roxy nudged me. “You know he and Brenden own a huge real estate business here in Vegas, right?”
Kelly nodded. “That’s right. They own the thing. Why can’t I ever remember that?”
“Because you're shit with details,” I said mindlessly.
Roxy winked. “He’s totally single, too. Has been for a while.”
Kelly sipped her drink. “He’s always glued to that phone, too. He wasn’t like that back in college, but he is now. Ever since he and Brenden really made it big time and made a name for themselves in Vegas.”
Roxy paused. “You can’t remember the fact that they own the damn thing, but you can remember that? Seriously?”
“Hey, you know how seeing Brenden completely throws me for a loop. I can’t hardly speak when the man’s around.”
“Girl, you’ve got it bad. And it doesn’t suit you at all. Especially not with a player like him.” Roxy rolled her eyes.
“Well, eventually, someone comes along to tame the player. I think that could be me.” Kelly held her chin up defiantly.
Roxy snickered. “Oh, really now. You think you can domesticate the wild man that is Brenden.”
Brenden interjected. “I believe I heard my name, ladies?”
Kelly giggled. “Here. You can sit by me. Because Karina was just about to get up and go talk to Zane. Weren’t you, Karina?”
I slowly looked over at her. “What?”
Roxy gripped my arm. “Yes. She was. Good luck!”
She shoved me off the couch, and I stumbled into the railing. I wanted to whip around and give her a piece of my mind, but I also didn’t want to cause a scene. My eyes gravitated over to Zane, hoping and praying he didn’t see all of that. But, when I saw he still had his full attention on his phone, I drew in a deep breath.
Fine. Okay. You can do this. It’s not like you haven’t been staring at him all night or anything.
I looked over at Kelly, and she gave me a thumbs up. Roxy shooed me away while she held my drink in her hand. I knew it would be gone by the time I got back. But, I didn't need any more alcohol anyway.
Not unless someone wanted to carry me out of the place.
Roxy yelled above the noise. “Girl! You’ve got this.”
Kelly nodded. “Yeah. Just go tap him on his shoulder.”
I scurried back to them. “Stop yelling. He’ll hear you.”
Brenden slipped his arm around Kelly’s back. “When he’s got that phone to his face, he doesn't register a thing. Trust me.”
I sighed. “That doesn’t bode well for me.”
Roxy stood up. “Girl. I’m telling you. He’s great, once you get him to open up.”
Kelly interjected. “You remember that time we all played truth or dare in Brenden’s dorm room?”
Brenden snickered. “How could I forget? I got to kiss the infamous Kelly that night.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, here we go.”
Roxy put her hands on my shoulders. “It’s just like when we played truth or dare as kids. Remember when I dared you to play ding-dong-ditch with your neighbor?”
I paused. “You mean the crazy old man who didn’t like company? Yeah. I remember that well. I thought I was going to get my head blown off.”
“Well, this is like that, except Zane wouldn't hurt a fly. Go over there, tap on his shoulder, and smile. He won’t be able to resist it.”
Kelly took my hand. “You’ve got this. Seriously. I dare you to go over and talk to Zane.”
I laughed. “We aren’t kids anymore. Truth or dare doesn’t work here.”
“Well, then maybe this will.” Roxy turned me around.
She shoved me towards Zane, and I stumbled again. I caught myself before I slammed right into him, and I heard the girls giggling in the background. He was only a few feet away from me. His fingers still flying a million miles a second. Wow. He must’ve been very important in the field that he worked in.
Come on. You can do this. It’s just a tap on the shoulder.
With a swipe of my hands down the front of my outfit, I started for Zane’s table. I approached him, setting my forearm against the table. I shifted positions a few times, like crossing my feet at my ankles. Then, standing with my feet shoulder-width apart. I threaded my hands together on top of the table, then unthreaded them. And all the while, I heard the soft clicking of Zane’s phone keyboard over the loud, bombastic bass.
Then, I reached out and softly tapped him on his shoulder.
6
Zane
I felt the stares of women all around me as I typed away on my phone. I didn’t care about their glances, or their giggles, or their irresistible perfume scents. I didn’t care about how they walked upstairs to try and get my attention, only to walk back down. All I cared about was work. Which made me cringe. And while I debated on whether or not to put up my phone, one look down at the dance floor made me realize why I chose to work instead of entertaining the girls.
Because I didn’t want to be there in the first place.
I mean, every girl in the place eyed me because of my suit. Because of my watch. Because of the expensive cufflinks and the overpriced haircut on top of my head. Vegas women wanted me for my money. They wanted me for a good time and a romp in a penthouse somewhere. The joke was on them, though. I didn't live in a penthouse.
I had my own land out and away from Vegas that I used to escape.
Every girl I’d ever met in clubs turned out the same way. They had eyes for that kind of shit, too. They looked for men like me, who dressed the way I did. Men who held themselves with poise the way I did. Men who had the kind of wallet I had. It made me sick. All I wanted was to piss Brenden off enough with this phone so that he’d let me go home without badgering me in the process.
Maybe if I made him miserable enough, he wouldn't invite me out again.
That’ll never happen.
I looked up from my phone before a movement caught the corner of my eye. As dry ice crept its way up to the second floor of this club, I whipped my head over to catch what I thought was headed my way. But instead, I found my eyes studying the girl in the cream-colored outfit.
The girl Kelly and Roxy brought along with them.
What’s her name again?
I found my eyes lingering on her a few seconds longer than normal. But, the vibrating of my phone pulled my gaze away. Still, I stole glances of her. I saw her sitting on the couch with the girls. I saw her sipping a bright pink drink as Brenden practically hovered all around Kelly. I shook my head and forced myself to stay engaged with the heated conversation I had going on in my text messages. But, with every movement that girl made, my eyes gravitated to her.
Because she was gorgeous.
Not in a conventional way, though. I mean, it was clear to me she was uncomfortable in her outfit. Continually tugging at the top she had on, that was a bit too short. Always running her hands over her stomach, as if the skirt she had on showed off too much. And the way her ankles wiggled in her heels made me brace for a fall. If I caught her, I’d get a chance to feel her against me. I bet she was warm. Like her sun-kissed skin teased.
She looks so… innocent.
Bzz! Bzz! Bzz!
I dropped my eyes back to my phone and didn’t give her a second thought. I typed away before switching to some emails. At least I was productive. Hell, I’d gotten more done in the past two hours than I would have gotten done back at the office. Probably because paperwork always swamped me at the office, so I barely t
ouched my computer. Or my phone, for that matter.
“Gotcha,” I murmured.
I had this bitchy realtor right where I wanted him. And if I had to smoke him out, then so be it. But, I wanted to try one more thing. I wanted to go over his head and talk to his client personally. After my assistant tracked down who this man’s client was, I sent her a very kind and cordial email. I knew she wouldn't hesitate to respond. That was the thing about realty I didn’t like. Many realtors I’d come into contact with over the years always thought they could take down the big, bad wolf. As if I were some demon character in a video game they had to beat. And sometimes, those realtors used tactics their clients wouldn't approve of just to try and get the upper hand.
Well, that particular client was about to know exactly what her realtor was up to.
Mrs. Daily,
On behalf of Stonewater Realty, I want to congratulate you. Becoming so successful in a business that one needs a bigger space is always a special occasion. It’s one I grew very fond of as a businessman myself, and I wish you all of the success in the world. I’m contacting you this evening because--.
I felt a tap on my shoulder, and my fingers paused. The tap was soft. Almost hesitant. And I wondered if I had actually felt it.
You’re imagining things, idiot.
Then, the tap happened again. Only this time, it had a bit more strength behind it.
“Um, excuse me? Zane? Is that your name?”
Her voice sounded like a lark. A muffled lark, first thing in the morning. Her voice reminded me of the sound of a lark slowly pulling me from sleep with blackout curtains over my windows. Soothing and relaxing, yet wishing to lull me back to sleep. With soft tones, a strong foundation, and a light that shone so brightly against my back, I felt it heat my spine.
But, I looked down at my phone.
The unfinished email taunted me. The blinking of the cursor caught my eye, and I felt compelled to finish it out. I had to send this email off. I had worked day and night on this purchase for damn near two weeks, and I was almost there. All I had to do was finish this email, send it off, and all would be well.
“Or, do you go by another name?” the woman yelled, competing with the DJ.
I set my phone down. “No, I do not.”
I turned around and saw the beautiful woman behind me. Dressed in a cropped top and a pencil skirt, the cream-colored ensemble brought out her eyes. The woman was gorgeous. Dark brown hair with honeyed highlights that reminded me of an ooey, gooey cinnamon roll. She had bright green eyes that were unimpeded with makeup. A refreshing change from the painted-on faces in the crowd beneath us. She had a smile on her lips that showcased the dimples her cheeks held. And those soft, little indentations called to the tip of my lips.
“Hi,” she said.
The thumping bass grew, causing the woman to move closer to me.
“It’s a bit loud in here, isn’t it?” she yelled over the music.
I nodded. “Usually is.”
She giggled, but the music swallowed the sound whole. And I’d never been so angry at a stereo system in my entire life.
“Are you having fun?” she asked.
I felt the table vibrating beneath my elbow. Signaling that my phone was still going off. That work was still taunting me. That the evil realtor I wanted to toss into a volcano was still bugging me at all hours of the night. Trying to prove to me that he was right in all of this.
“I can’t honestly say this is my scene, no.”
She leaned against the table. “Well, what is your scene, then?”
I felt the table vibrate again, and my skin began to crawl. It was almost compulsive, the need to check my phone. What if it was a new client? Was if it was someone inquiring about services? What if it’s that maniacal realtor finally conceding his defeat?
You’re turning into your father.
“Um, what was the question again?” I asked.
She blinked. “What is your scene? What are you usually doing on a--?”
This time, my phone started vibrating, and it didn’t stop. I held up my finger and picked it up, only to see that asshole calling me. Damn it, I had a flood of text messages already waiting for me, and I’d only set my phone down for a few minutes! I puffed air through my nose as I ignored his phone call. I saved the draft of the email and went to my text messages, reading through them as my eyes grew wide.
Mr. Walsh: I’ve spoken to my client, and she is no longer willing to cut a deal with you. I’d say thank you for your services, but you have provided nothing but heartache for her and for myself.
Mr. Walsh: I’m also well aware of your assistant digging into records she has no business digging into. Should you contact my client and try to go over my head, I’ll find something in our contact to use in court. Mark my words.
Mr. Walsh: Mr. Hearthstone? Are my messages going through?”
Mr. Walsh: Fine. I’ll simply call you. I’m sure you're still at the office, anyway.
I drew in a deep breath and flipped back to the email. Everything fell to the wayside as I finished typing it out and sent it to Mrs. Daily. There wasn’t anything stopping me from contacting her. I knew our contracts inside and out. That shoddy excuse for a realtor didn’t know who the hell he was tussling with, and if he wanted to take us to court? I had him on multiple counts of harassment, threats of libel, and borderline blackmail.
“Zane?”
Her voice caught my ear. “Yes. I’m sorry. What was that?”
I put my phone down and watched as the beautiful woman’s face fell. “Were you listening to anything I was saying?”
“My apologies. I had to deal with some--.”
She sighed and shook her head as defeat rushed over her features. Those beautiful dimples receded into nothingness as her lips went from upturned to downturned. I wanted to coax that smile out of her again. I wanted to make her giggle when the music wasn’t playing so I could let it wash over me. But, just as I drew in a breath to speak, my phone started vibrating endlessly again.
And I knew I couldn't ignore it.
“This phone call is very important. I have to take it.”
She paused. “I mean, maybe it could wait long enough for us to have a drink?”
I scooped my phone up. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. This was a bad night for me, anyway. I’ll send another one of those pink drinks up for you.”
As much as it pained me to walk away from such a beautiful and different woman, I couldn't let this slide. Mr. Walsh was out for blood, but what he didn’t know was that I was luring him into my own little trap. One breach of our contract, and I had him right where I wanted him. I walked down the stairs and pushed my way through the crowd. Women ground themselves against me, their hands sliding along my chest. I shook them off and pushed through. I ignored their snickers and their curses as I passed by them without a second thought. None of them were my type. None of them were to my liking. And as far as I was concerned, none of them would occupy my bed tonight.
Except maybe her.
I stood at the front door and peered over my shoulder. I looked up at the second-story balcony and saw her standing there with a drink in her hand. Her shoulders slumped softly as she slipped out of her heels. I watched that beautiful woman tug at her top before abandoning her drink and walking away. Barefooted, in a club, as she disappeared into the darkness.
You’re an idiot.
“This is Zane,” I said.
“You have absolutely no right whatsoever. Zero right, Zane. You hear me!?”
I walked outside as Mr. Walsh started rattling off in my ear. Curse after curse. Bullshit after bullshit. I pushed through the crowd outside and walked up to the corner of the block, finally pulling away from all the noise. And as the cool, crisp air wafted against my face, Mr. Walsh tripped and fell into the hole I had successfully laid out for him.
“You are the most despicable human being on the face of this planet. First, you try to lowball my client. Then, you’re immobile o
n your stance completely because you think you’re a fucking big shot. Then, you go over my head to contact my own client to try and get your way like a spoiled little brat, and you expect me to play ball? When you’re nothing but an oversized bully!? Well, I won’t stand for it, Mr. Hearthstone. I’m going to let everyone in this town know exactly how disgusting you really are. And by the time I’m done with you, your reputation will be so shot that no one--and I mean no one--in this town will ever go to you with their realty issues ever again!”
I grinned. “Mr. Walsh, I think I should remind you of something if you feel the need to continue.”
“I don’t care what you have to say! My client will not ever accept your offer. At all!”
As he continued to rattle off again, I felt my phone vibrate against my ear. I let him spew his disgusting language as I looked at my phone, pulling up the email that had just come through. Ah, Mrs. Daily had already gotten back to me. Perfect. And when I opened up the email, I abandoned the plan I initially set forth.
Because this one was so, so much better than mine.
I chuckled. “Have you even spoken to your client about my offer, Mr. Walsh?”
He paused. “That doesn’t matter because I never will. I would never disrespect any of my clients by doing business with a--.”
“Need I remind you that we signed a contract.”
He scoffed. “Yeah. A temporary contract. One that kept our negotiations between the two of us.”
“No, Mr. Walsh. The three of us. Mrs. Daily signed that contract as well, remember?”
“I’m her realtor, Mr. Hearthstone. I vet all deals before they--.”
I shook my head. “Not according to the contract you signed.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Page two, paragraph three, last two sentences. ‘All parties that sign this contract are privy to all communications. Including--but not limited to--possible offers, withdrawals, meetings, video conferences, and officially-notarized changes within the current contract.' Do you know what that means, Mr. Walsh?”