Forbidden

by R. R. Banks

  I'm not even done spilling my seed when the girl stands up and starts to dress. I drop the condom into the trashcan and pick up my pants, pulling them on. The last wisps of my fantasy fade away and I'm left with the reality before me. The girl – whatever her name is – is gorgeous, but she's no Harper Wilkins.

  I fish some money out of my wallet and toss it on the table without a word. She picks it up and tucks it into her purse as she heads for the door. Before she leaves though, she turns around and looks at me.

  “You've got some issues, man,” she says. “I don't know who this Harper chick is, but you need to get over her or something.”

  “I pay you to fuck,” I said. “Not to hand out advice, but thanks.”

  She shoots me a dirty look before slamming the door behind her on her way out, leaving me alone to bask in the afterglow of my fantasy.

  ~ooo000ooo~

  With my hands in my pockets and my head in the clouds, I stroll down the street, heading for home. Having found a way to relieve my – tension – I'll be better able to handle Harper running around in her short shorts and tiny tops. She does it to tease me, I know. And it's frustrating as hell.

  It's just after one in the morning and the streets are still buzzing with activity as people mill about, smoking and talking or head from one bar to the next. I'm not paying attention like I usually do when I walk the streets at night, so I don't realize anybody is following me until I feel them literally, right behind me.

  I stop and turn – and feel my blood run cold. I swallow hard and do my best to keep my face neutral. Expressionless. The last thing I want these two to see on my face is fear.

  “What's up, fellas?” I ask.

  The bigger of the two – Jimmy – looms over me. He's easily six-five, is as wide as he is tall, and is pure muscle. I have little doubt he can tear me in half if he wants to. He doesn't speak though – in all the time I've known these two, I've never heard him speak. He's obviously there for the muscle and the intimidation factor. The other one, Frank, looks a lot like Danny DeVito and is the brains of this little duo. Talk about an odd couple.

  “What's up,” Frank says, “is that you owe the man sixty grand. When can Marco expect payment, Landon?”

  “Marco?” I ask. “I thought Roberto was the man in charge.”

  “Don't be an asshole,” Frank says. “You know that Marco is running things here now. You owe the Rossi family a lot of money and they want it. It's time to pay up.”

  A nervous flutter shoots through my body. I don't have the money. I don't have anything close to that kind of money. I'd borrowed it to start my own club – a business decision that ultimately failed. I'd apparently overestimated the appeal of a burlesque club in the area.

  I took a bath on it and now, I have to repay the original debt – a debt that was supposed to be paid down from the profits of my club.

  “Look, I just need a little more time,” I say. “I'll have it. I got some things in the works. You know me I'm always hustlin'.”

  “Yeah well, you need to start hustlin' a little faster,” Frank says. “Mr. Rossi wants his money.”

  “And he'll have it. I swear,” I say.

  Frank nods to the large man, who steps forward and drives his fist into my stomach so hard, I'm sure it's going to burst out my back. I fall to my knees, gasping for air, feeling like I'm dying. Frank crouches down next to me, putting a gun under my chin. The cold steel of the barrel presses into my skin and I have to hold back the urge to piss myself – that's the last thing I want to do in front of these goons.

  “You better get it,” Frank says. “Mr. Rossi is getting real tired of waiting. We'll be in touch.”

  Frank stands up, and the two men turn and walk away without another word. They leave me down on my knees still trying to catch my breath. The buzz I'd felt when I left the hotel room is now officially gone. Replaced with the cold dread of reality. And that reality is that I owe a lot of money to people who won't think twice about shooting me in the face if I can't come up with the cash.

  As I walk home, I rack my brain, trying to find some way to come up with a way to get that kind of cash – and fast. When I finally get home though, I'm no closer to an answer. And feel like I'm a lot closer to catching a bullet in the head from one of the Rossi family henchmen.

  I settle into my bed, my pulse racing, my mind and emotions swirling, and close my eyes, knowing sleep won't be coming anytime soon.

  Chapter Five

  Rob

  Los Angeles

  I throw the ball and watch as Ella and Fitz, my two Great Danes, race across the yard, jostling and bumping each other to get it. They're both so long, graceful, and full of joy as they run. My pups both come back – Ella grinning around the ball in her mouth – and look at me with their wide, sweet eyes.

  Squatting down, I rub them behind their floppy ears as they lean into me. I fish a treat out of my pocket and give one to each of them.

  “My good pups,” I say.

  I was fortunate enough to rescue them a year ago from a backyard puppy mill that was being shut down. They had some health issues, but I got them the very best care I could and now, they're beautiful animals. Warm, loving – my dogs are better than a lot of the people I know.

  I throw the ball again and watch them race off in pursuit, a smile on my face. Sitting down at the table on the back patio, I take a drink of my coffee and soak in the morning California sun, enjoying a cool breeze with just a hint of the ocean in the air.

  Yeah, I think moving from New York to California is still one of the best decisions I ever made.

  Ella and Fitz run back up to me, wagging and wiggling, smiling away as I give them both another treat. They chew up their treats and look to me, waiting for another chance to chase down the ball – so I oblige, hurling it as far as I can, and smile as they race off once again.

  “If I throw the ball, will you chase it like that?”

  I turn in my seat and give the woman walking across the patio a smile. Cordelia Cooper – CC or Cordy to her friends – is a striking woman. She's also my personal attorney. She actually started as my father's attorney, fresh out of law school. But after his passing, when I told her my plans for my father's organization, she asked to stay on with me – and she and her husband actually moved out to California just after I did.

  Though she's only a few years older than I am, she has something of a big-sister feeling toward me. She's protective. Encouraging. And she'll call me on my bullshit. When I told her I didn't expect her to uproot her entire life for me, she said she was ready for a change from New York anyway.

  I like and respect Cordy a lot. She's straight-forward and doesn't sugarcoat things. She's one of the very few people I feel genuinely comfortable around. One of the even fewer people I feel like I can be myself around.

  Plus, she's already familiar with the Rossi family business. She doesn't necessarily like it, but she's trustworthy, a damn good lawyer, and a very good friend. She got my father and some of his guys out of sticky situations more than a few times. But she's always done things by the book and has never compromised her ethics or morals. She's been very clear from the outset that she would never do anything illegal – which is something I admire.

  She knows that it's going to take me a little while to fully implement my plans, but she approves of the changes I'm making to the organization and wants to see this through with me.

  Tall, blonde, and with the body of a lingerie model but she's also a woman who will take you apart with her sheer brainpower. Easily one of the most intelligent women I've ever met. And if you got on the wrong side of her, she is ruthless.

  “I might,” I say. “But it'd help if you came bearing treats.”

  “Well, you're in luck then,” she says.

  She fishes into her bag and pulls out a small box and sets it on the table between us as she takes a seat. I open the box and feel my stomach grumble in response.

  “Chocolate chip scones, huh?” I ask. “
You're the best, Cordy.”

  She laughs. “Yes, because you're five years old, apparently.”

  I shrug. “Nothing wrong with being a kid at heart.”

  She laughs. “No, I suppose not. Take the simple pleasures where we can find them.”

  “Exactly.”

  Ella and Fitz run up to me, their ears flopping, tails wagging, big smiles on their doggy faces. I ruffle their ears and nuzzle them. My dogs are one of those simple pleasures I take great joy in. I've always had a soft spot for dogs. For animals in general, really.

  Probably because I was never allowed to have a pet growing up, I don't know. I'm sure a shrink would have a field day with me.

  “Anybody ever tell you that you spend way too much time with your dogs?”

  I look at Cordy and smile. “You. Every time you come over.”

  “And yet, you never take my sage advice,” she says. “Because every time I come over, here you are with your dogs.”

  Ella and Fitz look at Cordy, still wagging their tails, their bodies still wiggling. She just smiles and shakes her head.

  “How can you ever get tired of those faces?” I ask.

  “I worry about you, Rob.”

  “Why worry?” I ask.

  “Because you never leave your house, for one thing.”

  I shrug. “I have everything I need here,” I reply. “Besides, this place has so many rooms, I haven't even explored them all yet. Makes me feel like I'm Indiana Jones or something.”

  “Always the smartass,” she says and then her face grows serious. “Come on, Rob. You're worth more money than God. You should be out – I don't know – living the billionaire playboy lifestyle or something.”

  “Oh?” I ask. “And what does that entail?”

  “Well, being that I'm neither a billionaire nor a playboy, I couldn't say with any certainty,” she says. “But I imagine it would entail buying stuff we mere mortals can't afford. Hotels. Cars. Something.”

  “I do that,” I say. “I bought that yacht just last year.”

  “Yeah? And when's the last time you were on it?”

  I look at her and grin. “Last year.”

  She pours herself a cup of coffee from the pot on the table and sighs. “You're rich, you're good looking – you should be knee deep in panties, Rob. When I walk into this house, there should be at least a dozen bimbos passed out on the floor. Instead, it's always you and your dogs.”

  “My dogs are great,” I say, giving them both a good scratch. “I never have to wonder what their ulterior motives are and I never have to worry about either of them stabbing me in the back.”

  She sighs and takes a sip of her coffee, then looks at me as she sets her mug back down. “You need a woman, Rob. Plain and simple, you need a woman in your life.”

  I shrug. “I've got you.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I take another sip of coffee and then throw the ball again. “Why is it so important that I have a woman in my life?”

  “It's more just the idea of you getting out and being social,” she says. “Locking yourself away in this house all day, every day isn’t good. While it's a really nice house – living here like a damn hermit isn't healthy.”

  She looks at Ella and Fitz who come bounding back to me, waiting for their praise and their treats – which I happily give them.

  “You need social interaction,” she says. “With – people.”

  I sigh and look at her. “If I go to something social, will it get you off my back about it?”

  “It couldn't hurt.”

  “Fine,” I say. “I'll find something to do. Go to a club or something. Who knows, maybe I'll even buy it if it makes you happy.”

  “See? Spoken like a billionaire playboy,” she says. “There's hope for you yet.”

  I laugh and take a bite of the scone she'd brought, savoring it. Ella and Fitz stare at me with those soulful eyes of theirs – they're masters of manipulation. But this is a treat they can't have.

  “Sorry, kids,” I say to my dogs, who cock their heads as they listen to me. “Chocolate in these. I'd like to give them to you, but I can't. Chocolate is bad for you guys.”

  As if they understand my words – and I half-believe that they do – they whine for a moment before bounding off into the yard again, bumping and nipping at each other.

  “Okay then,” she says. “The sooner you get out to the club and interact with some other adult people, the better.”

  I sit back in my seat and laugh. “Okay, fine,” I say. “Now, if we're done discussing my social calendar, how about we talk a little business?”

  Cordy nods and takes a sip of her coffee. “First order is that we should finally be seeing some progress on the permits for the condos you want to build out in Palm Springs,” she says. “The right wheels have been greased and things are moving forward.”

  “Finally,” I say. “Christ, this is a painful process.”

  “Doing things the right, legal way often is,” she remarks dryly.

  “Remind me again why I'm doing all this?” I ask, running a hand through my hair.

  “Because you're a good man, Charlie Brown.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  We spend the next hour going over bits of business and signing about ten thousand documents. She's right, doing things the right, legal way is difficult. But, when we're done, I'm glad. I feel a little bit lighter. It's a pain in the ass, but I know I'm doing the right thing.

  “One more brick torn out of that wall,” Cordy says.

  “One more brick,” I say. “Feels like there's a million more to go.”

  She reaches across the table and takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Hey, you're doing good here,” she says. “Your mom would be really proud of you.”

  My smile is rueful. “Yeah, but my dad is probably spinning in his grave right about now,” I say. “The Rossi family, going legit.”

  “Oh, the horror.”

  She stands and puts everything back into her bag. Ella and Fitz are reclining on the grass, rolling around and enjoying the sunshine.

  “Remember,” Cordy says, “Social interaction. Go out, meet some girls. Get laid. Pretend to have a little fun. Who knows, you might have some by accident.”

  I snap her a salute. “Yes, ma'am.”

  “I'll give you a call in a day or so,” she says. “Update you on things.”

  “Hey,” I say, stopping her as she turns to leave. “Thank you, Cordy. For everything. I couldn't do this without you.”

  She smiles, but there's a mischievous glint in her eye. “You're right, you couldn't,” she says. “Remember that when you get my bill.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Always the shark.”

  “That's me. Love you,” she calls over her shoulder as she heads back into the house.

  “Yeah, love you too.”

  I turn back to my scone, determined to finish it and enjoy a little more sunshine.

  Chapter Six

  “You wanted to see me?”

  I look up from the papers on my desk. “Yeah, thanks for coming, Miguel,” I say. “Come on in, have a seat.”

  Miguel drops into the chair across the desk from me, looking at me curiously.

  “Listen,” I start, “about the other night. At Harry's –”

  He shakes his head. “Don't sweat it, boss,” he says. “I get it. The guy's a douchebag and deserved to have his head kicked in.”

  “Yeah, but I don't usually lose my cool like that.”

  Miguel shrugs. “It happens to us all, boss,” he says. “Believe me, I've seen worse.”

  Growing up in the neighborhood we were at the other day, I don't doubt his words. It's a rough neighborhood and even though I'm a pretty big guy and can take care of myself, it's not a place I'd want to be in at night. Miguel had always told me he'd grown up in a tough neighborhood, but seeing it with my own two eyes was something entirely different.

  “So,
listen,” I say, “I just want you to know that I value you as an employee and everything you do for me –”

  “Wait, wait, wait – are you firing me?” he asks, cutting me off.

  I grin. “Not at all, actually.”

  Although I do believe in keeping things professional with most of my guys, I have to admit that things with Miguel are different. He's a good man and has my utmost respect. I'd almost go so far as to call him a friend. Not that I really know what a friend is, given that I have so few.

  My father would shake his head and probably give me a good smack for my relationship with Miguel. He'd say it's stupid and that I'm setting myself up to catch a couple of bullets in the back of the head. Guys like us aren't supposed to have friends. We're the top of the food chain. The apex predators. And we look down on everybody – especially, who he'd call “the help.”

  But, I'm not my father. And although I respect him for a lot of things, I am doing everything I can to do things differently than he did. I'm doing everything I can to not become him.

  “You sure?” Miguel asks. “I mean, if there's something I did or you're not happy with me for some reason, I can –”

  Without comment, I slide one of the documents Cordy had me sign across the desk to him, cutting him off. Miguel picks it up and looks at it, confusion crossing his face. After puzzling it over for a couple of minutes, he looks up at me.

  “What's this?” he asks.

  “That is the deed to your mom's new house.”

  “The what?”

  “I know how much you hate having your mom and sister living in such a – rough – area,” I say. “Believe me, I understand.”

  He cocks his head and gives me an inscrutable look. Yeah, the rich boy who had every privilege possible can understand growing up in a neighborhood like that. I grin and shake my head, realizing how stupid that sounded.

  “Okay, sorry. That was stupid,” I say. “What I meant was that I can understand wanting to take care of your mom and sister.”

  I pick up a frame on my desk and hand it to him. It's a picture of my mom, older sister, and me, taken at my college graduation. My father had business to deal with, so he couldn't come. But I remember that day like it was yesterday. And there's not a day that goes by when I don't think about my mom and sister – and miss them like crazy.