by Shayne Ford
“I had enough drama for one day.”
Forty minutes later, we park in front of a dark building carved in glass. The owner of the club, a friend of mine, greets us. He leads us to a private room. As we stroll past the stage, he motions to a couple of dancers.
“They’re new...” he says and winks at me.
We enter the room that looks like an alcove, a large curved couch tucked against the wall, drinks waiting for us on the table.
“It was good to see you, James,” my friend says, swiftly pulling away.
I crash on the sofa. The first gulp of alcohol burns the back of my throat. I empty the second glass, and it finally hits my blood. By the time I finish the third drink, I begin to relax.
Lex still works on his second drink.
“I think I got ahead of myself,” I say. He gazes at me but doesn’t say a thing. “I don’t like when I don’t have control, especially when it comes to women... It’s not like I want to control her. Trust me. I don’t. But I can’t have things like that affect my life. I don’t like to complicate shit. I don’t like drama. She’s caught me into her little family crisis. They’re no better than others, and I’m supposed to feel bad because I have money or because I live the way I do. I tried to talk some sense into her. I told her I could help her if she needs a place to stay or money. She refused my help. She needs to fucking grow up and figure this shit out for herself.”
“She’ll learn.”
“Maybe. I’m not so sure,” I say, anger spilling in my voice.
“She’s only a kid,” he says conciliatory, but that doesn’t do anything for me.
I take another sip.
“I guess it was fun until it wasn’t,” I say, my eyes drawn to the door as the two dancers enter the room.
“Blonde or brunette?” I murmur, my eyes taking in their naked bodies, very little fabric on their crotches. Cute faces.
And now I know why the owner winked at us. Lex gives them a swift once over.
“Which one? We’ll swap anyway.”
“Brunette,” he says.
“Fine by me,” I mutter as I motion to the blonde.
Smiling, she straddles me.
In synch with the music, she begins to sway her hips, slowly drawing circles over my lap before she starts grinding against my groin and slips her fingers inside my shirt.
The buzzing orbits around my brain like an obnoxious fly. It stops and then it starts again. A different ringtone. This must be Lex’s. I crack my eyes open, the tight grip of a headache pinning me down.
“What the fuck?” I groan.
Not far from me, Lex snores softly, his face buried in a pillow. The memory of last night comes back to me. It wasn’t bad at all if it weren’t for this stupid headache that’s been pounding my brain.
Butt-naked, I shuffle to the chair looking for my pants. Remotely, I register my surroundings. I guess we were sober enough to check in a hotel.
I fish out both phones and check mine first. There are at least twenty missed calls. A few from Rain, the rest of them from Ed.
He called both of us, most of the calls placed within the last hour or so. I glance at the time. It’s almost two o’clock in the afternoon. The city council meeting must be over by now.
Yeah... I’m in no hurry to find out. Rain sent me a few texts. They all sound desperate.
One catches my attention.
Rain: I may need to leave for New York before the end of the week.
Right.
I stroll to the bathroom. Thirty minutes later, I walk out, a towel wrapped around my waist, the crappy mood still with me, my mind clear, at least.
I find Lex, hunched over his phone.
Naked.
“Are you fucking sure?” he asks, talking on the phone.
Ed’s scream rolls in my ears.
“Yes.”
Lex turns to me, his eyes brighter than the sky.
“We got it, James.”
“We what?”
“The proposal was approved with three more votes than we had counted on. Sheryl was one of them, and two others who were on the fence.”
My hands slip to my hips, my lips curling into a slow smile.
“I’ll be damned.”
Lex curls his arm around my shoulders pulling me into a hug.
We start laughing.
“I can’t fucking believe it! The biggest commercial Casino in the state,” he says.
I can’t stop smiling.
“Go get dressed for fuck’s sake,” I say, tearing away from him, and he rushes to the shower.
RAIN
* * *
I call him again and again. No answer. It’s getting ridiculous. It’s five o’clock in the afternoon, and my mind spins trying to find an explanation.
There’s little chance I can find him at Red’s. It’s too early. Besides, he’s rarely there during the week. Maybe he’s on a business trip, or maybe I’m just a fool. I pull a pair of jeans and throw a T-shirt on me, and then I fly out the door.
I can try his office. Hopefully, I can find someone there. Without having too many options, I make the thirty-minute drive and close to six o’clock, I pull into the covered parking of a tall building made of steel and glass.
I stride across a lobby and enter a huge reception area. The receptionist, an older lady with piercing eyes and stiff hair, nips my hope in the bud.
“He wasn’t in the building the whole day, and he’s not expected to stop by,” she says.
I make the trip back to my car, torn and filled with angst.
Something doesn’t feel right.
As I saunter back, a black Bugatti pulls in, the profile of a woman flashing on the passenger side. I hide behind a column and take a peek.
The doors open, and my heart stops as a young blonde pushes heels clad legs out of his car and rises to her feet.
She wears a tailored dress and turns a smiling face to him as he climbs out the car as well.
They’re both in a great mood, sharing a peal of laughter.
I step out of my hiding, the moment I catch her eyes, her expression swiftly changing. We clash gazes for a moment, and I read curiosity, perhaps a bit of pity in her eyes.
She seems a bit taken aback by the emotions washing over my face or perhaps the fact that I’m standing here in the middle of the parking lot, looking at her, dumbstruck, as the world I used to know quickly draws to a grim end.
He follows her gaze until his eyes meet mine, and his expression shifts as well.
He motions to her, and she swiftly scurries away and vanishes into the elevator. He turns to me, and I instantly see it in his eyes.
There’s something painfully different about him. His shirt is undone at the neckline, and dark shadows stretch beneath his eyes. He looks as if he hasn’t slept at home.
There’s also a dark, dirty lust lingering in his hooded eyes. It permeates his moves and the way he walks. The gaze he offers me is no longer trustful.
I spin around and dash to my car.
“Rain?” he barks, rushing to catch up with me.
I sprint away, and he runs after me, grabbing me just as I’m about to enter my car.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, pissed.
Oh, my God! I can’t believe this. He’s angry?
“Get your hands off me,” I growl, sinking my fists into his chest. “It doesn’t matter why I’m here. I’m leaving, now.”
He shuts the door, blocking my access, and then grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. The sunset rolls over his shoulders, peering at us from behind a concrete column.
Pain floods my heart as I take in his face, his features still mesmerizing despite the fury seething in his eyes.
“What happened, James? I called you last night, and then today, the whole day. What the fuck is this?”
“I was busy,” he says, and bile crawls up my throat as I sense him lying.
“Busy doing what?”
“Business,” he says, his eyes gi
ving me nothing, and it’s like I’m talking to a stranger. “Are you going to tell me what you wanted to talk about?”
“Before you tell me who the hell is the blonde who stepped out of your car.”
“She’s my lawyer.”
“You must be shitting me,” I say, the sarcasm choking me.
“I’m not.”
“Are you two...?
His eyes narrow at me, dark, unwilling to give me the slightest ray of hope or truth.
“Are you fucking her?”
His eyes slip away from me for a moment, giving me the answer.
“What do you want to hear, Rain?”
“The truth,” I shout, at the same time realizing how useless this is.
“I used to before she became my lawyer. She’s married now. Does that make you feel better?”
“No,” I say and bite my lip to stop the quivering of my chin. “What about last night? Where were you?”
“At Silver with Lex.”
“What’s Silver?”
“A striptease club.”
My blood draws out of my body.
He looks at me intently, gauging my reaction, and as hard as it is to swallow what he says, it’s better than giving me another lie.
“You wanted the truth.”
“What were you doing there?”
“We drank and got a couple of lap dances, and then we checked into a hotel. Are you going to tell me, now?” he asks, growing impatient.
“I’m moving to New York.”
“You what??”
He looks at me, thunderstruck. The light in his eyes dies out, and for the first time ever, I see raw, unguarded emotions rolling on his face.
“I leave at the end of the week. I have a job lined up and a new place. I rented a room in someone’s apartment. It’s not much, but it’s a start.”
His lips part in disbelief, his eyes narrowing with surprise, dark as a stormy sky. He blinks a few times unable to pull his guard back up. He looks at me as if I gave him an unexpected blow, his mind scrambling to understand.
It only lasts a few moments, and then he straightens his back, his fingers sliding through his hair as a sad smile freezes on his lips and a pained expression claims his face.
“How long have you been planning this?”
His voice sounds cold and hurt.
“I wanted to tell you, James.”
He looks away, shaking his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.
“I didn’t want it to happen this way, but I can no longer live with my parents, and I can’t live with you either. I have no other choice, James,” I say on the cusp of crying.
His eyes cut back at me, drilling me fiercely.
“You have no other choice?!” he thunders, my hair bristling on the back of my neck. “Are you fucking kidding me? Has it ever crossed your mind to talk to me?”
“I called you several times.”
“You called me?!” he bursts out. “You have already made up your mind. What about asking me?” he shouts, gripping my arm harshly, his eyes bleeding so much anger.
Deeply hurt, he searches my eyes, disappointment quickly setting on his face. Seemingly, he can’t find what he’s looking for, so he pulls back, his eyes turning cold, frosting into two pools of darkness.
“You know what? Go! Just fucking go!” he barks, his voice slicing through me like a sword, ripping me apart.
Without another word, he spins around and strides away.
“James?”
My desperate call falls flat on the ground as he vanishes into the building.
21
RAIN
* * *
The room is quiet.
We pass greens and potatoes around, polite as if we are strangers in a restaurant. I shove down food that tastes like nothing, having a hard time to swallow.
It’s been like that for the past two days.
The issue of James Sexton is moot.
In private, Daria exults. My mom has regained her serenity, and my dad is still clueless. Nat is on a business trip, completely out of the loop.
And, I’m dying.
The news that I’m moving to New York was received with mix reactions, none of them notable.
All in all, it looks like my family embraces the idea, even sighing with relief.
The evening news comes on TV, a welcomed distraction from the grim atmosphere. It’s only a short respite before the words begin rolling in my ears.
“.... Sexton International, Casino, and Entertainment Resort is set to be inaugurated one year from today. The project is expected to generate annual revenue north of three hundred million dollars, according to local banking sources. Two days after the local City Council has approved a zone changing proposal, James Sexton sat with us for a brief interview.”
My eyes fly to the screen, the sight of him smashing into my heart. Daria catches my gaze and turns up the volume, rejoicing over my misery.
My mom glances over her shoulder before she focuses on her food, the issue no longer on her radar. My dad’s eyes dart a couple of times before shifting his attention back to dinner as well.
I no longer watch the screen, and Daria turns the volume down.
“It’s going to be a disaster,” my dad mutters.
“What’s that, dad?” Daria asks, eager to start a conversation.
“This stupid project. It’s going to make the owners super rich, especially this James Sexton guy. He owns the majority of it from what I understand, and it will bring no change for anyone else. It will generate low paying jobs and will increase the number of temporary workers, draw a lot of traffic, and possibly, crime. Stupid, stupid business, but nobody wanted to listen to me. They all bought into this crook’s stories. He even tried to convince me...” he mumbles, looking so content for not falling for James’ tricks as he cuts his steak.
What?!
Furtively, I glance around. The only other person interested in my dad’s words is Daria, but even she cannot grasp the gist of it.
James asked my father to vote for that proposal?
“Are you done, sweetie?” my mom asks, and I jerk in my chair as if my fingers were plugged into an electric socket.
“Yes.”
“You haven’t touch it,” she says.
“I’m good. I’ll eat later,” I mutter, and push the chair back, rising in a complete daze.
I rush to my room and lock myself in and for the next hour or so I do a search online and read about him, his businesses, and Sexton International, developing projects, lawsuits, and estimated wealth. James inherited his dad’s empire, and he’s been involved in the parent company since he was eighteen. He became the sole owner of Red’s about that time too. My mind sifts through the information, looking for the useful bits, trying to put the pieces together.
I call Eve.
“Hey. You okay?”
“No, not really. I want to ask you something...” I say. “The women… The Night of the Kings women… Do you know anyone else besides Denise Anderson?”
“Why are you interested?”
“I don’t know right now, that’s why I need more information.”
“The ones I know... Let me see. There was an Isabelle Carson, Anika Joffre, Tammy Louis...”
I write the names down.
“Okay. Anyone else?”
“Theo Lang… I don’t know anyone else, but there were more.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
I do some research on their names and pull out more information. As the pieces add up, a cold shiver races down my back.
I clear the search history on my laptop, turn off the computer, grab my car keys and swing the door open.
Daria almost falls inside.
“Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell are you doing at my door?”
I push her to the side and shot her a glare.
“I told dad about you and Sexton,” she slips to me as I rush by her.
“Go fuck yourself, Daria.”
&nbs
p; I veer toward the entrance when my dad thunders from the kitchen.
“Rain, I need to speak to you!”
“Not now, dad.”
Without another word, I push out the door.
There’s no way I can get in Red’s without a trick of sorts. I’m sure the staff will throw me out without a smidgen of regret.
As I roll the car on the street leading to the club, limousines pull at the front.
It looks like a big party. People and cars are coming and going, a cop directing traffic. I find a parking spot on a secondary street and walk to the club.
Good thing, I had the inspiration to wear a black hooded T-shirt and dark jeans. The place is dimly lit. All I need is to sneak inside, pass by the bouncers and not be spotted by the snake in the red dress, in case she’s working tonight.
I stand on the stairs, and scan the crowd, looking for familiar faces, trying to attach myself to someone so I could get in.
A group of tipsy men makes it to the door. I tuck my blonde hair inside my hood and slip between two of them hooking my arms around their elbows, acting as if I had a drink too many.
We split as soon as we get inside and I slide by the wall and keep walking to the farthest booth.
As I get closer, the faces around the table come into focus.
I pull my hood off my head, my blonde hair spilling over my shoulders just as James raises his eyes.
His smile dies out, his eyes turning into black ice. Lex expression freezes as well, and Ed’s usually warm eyes turn to ash.
Four women sit with them, all in their twenties. Pretty faces, skintight dresses. Two blondes, one brunette, and one redhead. Their laughter still vibrates in the air as their male companions turn to stone.
“What the hell are you doing here?” James growls under his breath, already motioning to a couple of bouncers.
The women go quiet, their eyes darting between the two of us.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Get the hell out of my club,” he barks under his breath as he rises to his feet blocking the view of the people at the table.
His hand curls around my neck.
I look up at him, but he glazes over me. The bouncers are near us.
“It’s about my dad,” I say, and he raises his hand.