Thirsty Thursday (The Billionaires Temptations Book 4)

by Annalise Wells

  “That is fine, I will see you later, I am going down for a workout,” I say.

  I climb in the elevator and travel to the spa floor. Like yesterday, there are already women roaming around. Mud packs are the ‘in thing’ from the look of it.

  I walk across the reception area and make my way to the large elevator. I push the button for the ground floor. I feel the floor dropping, and then I come to a sudden thud as I reach the gym area. I slide open the doors and see that a few of the machines are already being used.

  “How is it, today?” I ask the girl at the reception.

  She smiles.” Better than yesterday, I made sure I was early,” she replies.

  I walk into the back. Tommy is busy rubbing ointment into the calf of someone.

  “Tommy, the main man, how’s it going?” I ask.

  “Good. The books are filling up for the physio as expected,” he replies.

  “Great,” I say.

  “I see you have come for a workout, I notice you have missed a few days,” Tommy says.

  “I will probably be aching by the time I have finished.”

  “Just don’t overdo it, take it easy, but come back when you’re done, that Chinese place you mentioned had some wicked balm for deep muscle treatment,” Tommy explains.

  “I will see you in an hour then,” I say laughing.

  “I will make space for you, one hour, max,” he replies.

  I walk into the gym and head over to the new weightlifting benches that have been installed, these are state of the art and tell you to the ounce, exactly how much you have lifted. I hook myself up on the bench press and start lifting. I feel the tenseness in my shoulders.

  It will take a while for my body to get used to lifting regularly again, and now I have no real excuse for not walking downstairs and making an effort.

  Even fifteen minutes on the treadmill will help to keep me supple. I change machine and do some crunches on my legs. They feel really stiff, much more than my shoulders. I would hate to miss a week, I would be a wreck after one good hour of training.

  I look at all the open space we still have available in the back. It seems a waste, but more machines just won’t cut it. It dawns on me; the trend at the moment is cage fighting. I look toward the reception. Tina walks in, dressed in her skin-tight leggings and a vest.

  Damn, she looks hot.

  She walks over to me and picks up two dumbbells and starts doing some reps.

  “I have just had a thought for that space in the back,” I say.

  “What, to fill it?”

  “Yeah. What do you think of cage fighting? I say.

  “I don’t know a lot about it,” she says.

  “It is really popular, and a lot of guys prefer it to boxing training.” “What do we need?” Tina asks.

  “Basically, just an octagon, a bit like a boxing ring, but different.” “Go for it, the more we can fit in the better for us, we even had queries for birthday parties in the crèche Mr. Clown, remember?” Tina says, holding a wide grin on her cheeky face.

  “It is true then, everything Beau touches turns to gold,” I reply. “I am not doing a clown.”

  “You already have four bookings. You will be Lando,” Tina says laughing.

  I stop pushing the weights. I feel my calf muscle give way on me.

  “Fuck, I have done something to my leg,” I say.

  “What?”

  “I think I have just torn a muscle or something,” I reply.

  “You will have to see Tommy,” she says.

  I hobble to the bench and sit down. I rub my calf with my fingers.

  “Fucken clown thing threw me off.”

  “You haven’t worked out, except for… you know. Just relax for five, and then we will go and see him,” she says. Her face is still beaming a half-smile.

  “I’ll be alright,” I say.

  Tina moves to the treadmill and starts jogging. I rub my leg as I watch her jogging. Her tits bounce, and her ponytail bobs up and down with each step she takes. It is the wobble of her tits that keep catching my attention. They are a much better pain killer; I could watch them bounce all day long.

  I finally stand. I rest the weight on my injured leg. It doesn’t feel as bad as before, and I manage to make my way to Tommy’s physio section.

  “Tommy, guess what,” I say.

  “You overdid it?” he replies.

  “I wasn’t overdoing it, but something went pop in my calf.”

  “Just have a seat, I won’t be long.”

  I take a seat and stretch my leg out in front of me. I keep rubbing my calf to keep it supple.

  Tommy finishes with his client. He comes over and helps me over to the bench. He pulls off my running shoes, and I swing my legs up. He pulls my jogging pants up to my knee and feels my leg.

  “Hmm, can you wiggle your toes?” he asks.

  I wiggle my toes and rotate my foot. “It is nothing, you have just strained one of your calf muscles, it’s good you noticed it,” Tommy says.

  “How long will it last?” I ask, feeling it pinch.

  “Well, you get three grades of strain, one two and three. One like you have means you will be walking regularly again in a couple of hours, even if it aches,” he says. “Number three is a bitch and hurts like hell, then you would be limping, and maybe crutches.”

  “What do I have to do, just rest it or what?”

  “It is better to keep it moving, then it won’t seize. I have this you can rub on it every couple of hours.” Tommy explains.

  I smile at him broadly. “So, you enjoyed the Chinese shop in the market?”

  “Yeah, this stuff is perfect for things like this,” he replies.

  “What is it?”

  “Tiger balm, it really gets deep into your muscles, just don’t get it on the end of your cock, it will burn like hell,” Tommy says, laughing.

  Tina walks through the doors. And sits on the chair. “Is he damaged for life? I need him to work as a clown this month.”

  Tommy laughs again. “Only in the brain, the rest of him is fine, he has just strained his calf muscle,” he says.

  Tina winks at me, “Come on Lando, let’s get you back upstairs before you do any more damage to yourself,” Tina says. “We have bookings.”

  “I have to keep moving, so it doesn’t seize,” I say, as we amble to the elevator.

  “That is okay, we still have plenty of unpacking to do, you can put those things away,” Tina says plainly.

  “I only have till seven o’clock, and then I have to leave with Scott.”

  “You better forget the unpacking and take it easy. I will have to go over to see Ty and make sure all the loose ends are finalized,” Tina says.

  “Shit, I forgot. I have to get Conor a pizza uniform from the pizza place,” I say. “I can’t drive though. Can you go?”

  “I will have to. Where is the pizza place?” Tina asks, sarcastically.

  I look at her and roll my eyes.

  “I can swing by that way, it is on the way, sort of,” Tina says.

  “I will speak to Conor soon, and make sure he knows how to use the radio,” I say.

  “I better go before it gets late. If I am not back, I will see you tomorrow when you arrive for work.” Tina says, smiling. “You have a week to get ready for your clown gig.” She bursts out a laugh and I feel like slapping her ass and making her cum over and over to teach her a lesson.

  “Don’t overdo a good thing, it will come back and bite you.”

  Tina

  “Many a good deal has been sealed over a coffee.”

  I drive over the bridge toward Brooklyn Heights. I find it hard to believe that in just over twenty-four hours from now, a bullet will be flying in the same direction toward the Kingmaker.

  I pull off the bridge road and drive to the location Orlando had described for the pizza place. As soon as I turn the corner, I see all the delivery scooters parked outside. Kids are coming and going with boxes they shove onto their sco
oters before driving off.

  I sit thinking how I can get a uniform without anyone asking questions. All of a sudden, a kid comes out of the rear door screaming and yelling. He looks the same size as Conor.

  I get out of the car and start walking over toward him. His yelling gets louder and I can now tell what he is shouting.

  “You’re a fucking slave driver, and your pizza tastes like shit,” the kid yells.

  “Get outta here before I call the cops,” I hear from inside the door.

  “You fat cunt, you don’t deserve anyone working for you,” the kid yells.

  “Don’t bother coming back tomorrow, your fired,” the voice inside screams.

  “You can’t fire me, I already quit, and don’t worry, I won’t be back,” the kid yells, flipping the bird to the rear doorway.

  I sidle up to the kid as he starts walking. “A bad boss?” I ask.

  “He is the worst, any excuse to dock your pay, and when you question him, he blows his stack,” the kid says.

  “I see you quit.”

  “It was a temporary job, anyway.”

  “What is your real job?”

  “A barman, can you believe it, a fucking barman delivering pizza,” he says.

  “Maybe we can help each other,” I say.

  “What do you mean lady?” the kid says.

  “Is there somewhere we can talk around here?”

  “Yeah, there is a coffee shop just around the corner,” he replies. He must be twenty-one.

  We walk around the corner and enter the small coffee shop. It is not your regular Starbucks, just a plain place you can get a coffee.

  “Grab a seat by the window, you want a drink?”

  “Please, just regular coffee,” the kid says.

  I go to the counter and order two regular coffees. There is no whirring and spitting of foam. This coffee is strong and straight from the pot. I walk over and slide onto the bench seat. I slide the coffee over to the kid.

  “You said we could help each other, how can we do that?” he asks.

  “If you are a barman as you say, call this your interview.”

  “Why? Are you looking for a barman?”

  “I have one, but he is on loan from my friend, he is looking for another one, but I actually need two so I do have an opening,” I say, giving him a smile.

  “What’s the pay like?” he asks.

  I hold my mug with both hands and lean forward. “It is a lot fucking better than delivering pizza,” I say.

  “So, where is it? This place of yours,” he asks.

  “It is a new place, a new club. In the middle of Chinatown,” I say.

  “That makes it easier for me to travel,” the kid says.

  “What’s your name anyway?”

  “Dillon.”

  “So, Dillon, the question is, are you any good?”

  “I think of myself as one of the best. You know all that bottle spinning crap you see, I invented half of the moves,” he replies.

  “So, you are a bit fancy with the bottles? How do you cope working round half naked women?” I ask.

  “I have no problem with that at all. Is that what your place is, a titty bar?” he asks.

  “It is a bit more than that, it is slightly secret,” I say, giving a wink.

  “You mean like that Tina’s Club that closed down recently?” he asks.

  “Something like that.”

  “So, I told you my name, what is yours?” he asks. He sips his drink.

  I smile at Dillon. “You can call me Tina,” I say, beaming a smile.

  Dillon looks at me and points. His moth opens as he tries to take it in. “You mean to say that you are Tina from that club?”

  I nod and smile.

  “Awesome.”

  “The only difference with this club is, it is for couples rather than just men,” I explain.

  “So far, you fit the bill, the only other thing is, there’s no drugs and you have to be honest,” I say.

  Dillon rolls up his sleeves and smiles. “Clean as a whistle, and I am one hundred percent reliable, my girlfriend has my kid and I just want to be a good parent,” he replies.

  “It looks like you have a job, and you start tomorrow,” I say.

  “Where do I go?” he asks.

  “Just head for the market in Chinatown and look for the new gym, go in there and speak to the girl at the reception. I will let her know you are coming. No later than four o’clock, our grand opening is tomorrow,” I explain.

  “I look forward to it,” he says.

  “Welcome to the team Dillon,” I say, sipping my coffee.

  “You did say we could help each other, what do you want from me?” Dillon asks.

  “Um, it might sound stupid, but I need your uniform,” I say.

  “No problem, I have my other clothes, I will just get changed and give it to you. It’s for a private dancer thing, huh?” he asks.

  “Something like that.”

  I sip on my coffee as Dillon heads to the bathroom. He emerges a couple of minutes later and hands me a bag with Federico’s pizza uniform.

  “There is a delivery receipt book in there as well. And when you are done with it, just burn it, it is no use to me, now,” Dillon says. “That’s a cool idea. For a naughty party!”

  “Yep,” I reply. “What time is it?” I ask.

  “A little after four thirty, do you have somewhere to be?” he asks.

  “I do, but I have to get this uniform back to the club,” I say.

  “I can drop it off, I have to pass by close to Chinatown,” Dillon says.

  “If you do that, consider your start date today.”

  “I could do with transport money,” Dillon says.

  I put my hand in my pocket and pull out a hundred and hand it to him.

  “That is way too much,” he says.

  “Just get a cab and keep the rest, treat your girlfriend and your kid,” I reply.

  “Who do I ask for when I get to the club?”

  “My guy, Orlando. He is the hot looking one,” I say. “I will call him now and tell him you are coming.” Dillon leaves and smiles.

  I pull out my cell phone and dial Orlando. I put the phone onto speaker.

  “Hello,” I say.

  “Hi, what can I do for you?” Orlando asks.

  “I got distracted slightly at the pizza place,” I say.

  “There wasn’t any trouble was there?” Orlando says.

  “It couldn’t have gone any better. I just hired a new barman to work with Conor’s friend.”

  “Ah, okay. I wasn’t expecting you to interview today,” Orlando says.

  “I will explain later, but he is coming from the pizza place now by cab, he has his uniform. Make sure Conor gets it before he leaves.”

  “Sure. What’s the kid’s name?” Orlando asks.

  “Dillon, you can’t miss him, he is really good looking,” I reply, cheekily.

  “I will wait in the gym reception, fifteen minutes, how good looking?” Orlando asks.

  “Orlando, you are the best looking, he is waiting,” I say.

  “Good!” He hangs up the phone.

  I quickly walk back to the car. I start heading to Cally’s and Ty’s to sort out the final details. I have the distinct feeling, I am not going to be back in time to see Orlando before he leaves with Scott for the evening. It will feel strange in the apartment all alone, and as Orlando said, he can’t remember the last night we were apart, and thinking back, neither can I. We had become like a married couple without tying the knot.

  I head out of Brooklyn Heights and think of how it will all come up on the news.

  Or will my bosses cover everything up like they normally do?

  Only time will tell. I just hope it all goes to plan. I really like Dillon. He’s going to be a great asset to the club.

  “Many a good deal has been sealed over a coffee.”

  Orlando

  “Cocktails mean so much more than cherries and umb
rellas.”

  I sit waiting in the gym reception. This new kid that Tina has hired will be arriving shortly with the pizza uniform for Conor tomorrow. The closer we get the more nerve racking it is going to be for everyone. Conor especially, because he has put his faith into me. I told him that Ty shot a soda can at nineteen hundred yards, which was true, but there are a lot of variables to consider, to make sure he can do something similar.

  The hardest thing is judging everything just right, at that distance. I know that Ty won’t even be focused on The Kingmaker; he may have to try twice. Hopefully, Conor doesn’t get shot. It’s all in the stillness and the breath.

  I see a cab driving up the street, and it slows in front of the gym. A tall, dark-haired kid jumps from the rear seat. I open the door as he approaches.

  “Dillon, I presume?” I say. I notice his good looks. Tina is cheeky.

  “I am, and you are Orlando,” he says.

  I show him inside. “While you are here, I better show you upstairs where you will be working,” I say plainly.

  “Tina did say it was opening tomorrow, but it already seems there are a few people here already,” Dillon says.

  “This is just part of it, we have a gym, a crèche and a spa on the second floor,” I explain.

  “I thought it was just a club,” Dillon says.

  “It’s better to have a front for the club, that way no one questions men and women coming, keeping it all very hush, hush,” I say.

  “It seems to work well so far, once the club is open, then you will see,” Dillon says.

  We cross the spa and enter the secret lift. I ask Dillon to flick the middle switch. The lights flicker, and we start to rise up to the floor of the club. I open the door and we step inside the expanse of the club.

  “Fuck, this is huge,” Dillon says, amazed.

  “It will seem smaller when we have a few hundred people at the tables,” I reply.

  “What happens on the stage?” Dillon asks.

  “We have various shows for entertainment. You name it; bands, girls dancing, guys dancing, girls and guys dancing and some have interaction between each other,” I explain.

  “You mean fucking on stage?” Dillon asks, wide-eyed.

  “And lesbian shows, mostly, all tasteful and not just fucking on stage,” I say, laughing at the sound of it all.