King (Rogue Rebels MC)

by Nicole Elliot

  “Hey, Syd,” the voice on the other end said. “Is this a good time?”

  “Hey Declan! Yeah, I just got home. How are you?”

  There was a short pause, as if he was hesitant. Classic Declan. “I was just in the area, and I got some Chinese, so…”

  “Oh, yes, please!” I said, looking inside the fridge and seeing a lot of ingredients, but no food. “And hurry up!”

  Declan hung up, and I got out a cold bottle of wine and some snacks to go with it. Once I settled comfortably on the couch, I poured the wine and waited for Declan, flicking through the TV Shows category on my TV. After a few minutes, I settled on a random episode of Friends, which was my go-to remedy.

  The door was unlocked, and halfway into the episode (and a glass of wine), I heard Declan let himself in.

  With the glass still in hand, I went to greet him, landing a big hug and grabbing the plastic bags of Chinese he brought.

  “You couldn’t wait five minutes, Syd?” he asked, looking at me with a smile.

  “First of all, it was more like twenty. Second of all, you look good, Declan. Put on some weight?”

  “Oh, fuck off,” he said with a thin smile.

  “I’m glad to see you.”

  The truth was, Declan didn’t look good. In fact, he looked worse. He was even paler, if that was even possible, and leaner, his clothes now seemingly oversized and baggy. He looked older.

  Declan stepped out of his shoes and crashed on the couch. There was something odd about him, a look or embarrassment I knew all too well. I didn’t say anything at first, simply got the food out of the plastic bags and joined him in front of the TV, salivating.

  “Is this for me?” he asked, meaning the wine.

  I nodded. “Only half a glass, okay?”

  Declan didn’t have to ask my permission, but he was being nice. Back before the treatments began, he would have had no problem downing the whole bottle on his own, but now we had to be cautious. Even half a glass was worthy of a celebratory amount, and there was nothing to celebrate. He dropped a white envelope on the table.

  I said, “Another bill?”

  “Yup. Due next month.”

  “Right.”

  There was an awkward pause. I hated the awkwardness. I hated that my brother was sick, and how miserable it made him feel. Made both of us feel. And then there was yet another bill to pay. I could only guess how much longer we could keep it up. It was one of those times I really wished our mother was here to give some advice – she had always been the practical one. Our dad had been more into religion, but prayers weren’t working anymore.

  I, on the other hand, was doing my best. Declan had burned through his college savings over the past year, and I had been working overtime for the past few months. It was consuming our lives.

  I sipped the wine. It was cold and bittersweet on my lips. Rachel and Ross in the background pulled me out of my thoughts.

  “I got it, Declan, don’t worry,” I said.

  “I’m sorry Syd,” he replied, looking at the TV screen.

  “Hey, don’t turn this into a pity party. You don’t have anything to be sorry about.” I paused but he didn’t respond. “Let’s eat dinner.”

  We watched the show and talked about nothing in particular, just having a family night, like in the good old days.

  Declan barely touched his food, but emptied his glass rather quickly and relaxed on the couch. He had become withdrawn lately, and I couldn’t blame him. The elephant was in the room, and sometimes it was hard to ignore.

  “Hey, cheer up, okay?” I said, mostly to myself. “We’ll figure it out, and you’ll get better.”

  He looked at me, as if saying Do you really believe that?

  I was used this look, so I nodded, thinking that perhaps it was the wine giving me the optimism. Either way, I’d take it.

  We watched another episode, as I finished my noodles. When it ended, I said, “Do you want to stay here tonight? Julia will be back late, so…”

  “Nah. I’ll head home, read a book. I don’t sleep much, anyway. Thanks for letting me invite myself.” He began to get up, slowly, minding his balance.

  “I’m here for you, Declan. You just let me know if you need anything. Keep your phone nearby.”

  “Always do, don’t I?” his phone was in his hand, and I saw the Uber app was open on it.

  “Good. I’ll try to visit you over the weekend, okay? And I’ll take care of that bill, so don’t stress about it.”

  He nodded wistfully, looking aside. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t even mention it.” I kissed his cheek and watched him leave.

  I wasn’t honest with him. I was short on money, and would have to borrow some from Julia and some other friends, if I wanted to pay that bill before the end of the month.

  Quietly desperate, I sat back down in front of the TV, poured myself another glass and finished Declan’s food. Just like the good old days.

  Just moments later, the front door swung open, and Julia stepped in. She walked straight to the table and landed in the armchair. “I’m exhausted!” She proclaimed. “Oh, and I met Declan downstairs! Asked him if he put on weight.”

  “Did he tell you to fuck off?”

  “He did!”

  That put a smile on my lips. Julia checked out the bottle, and took a sip from my glass.

  “Yum!”

  “Get another bottle,” I suggested, finishing the wine.

  At first, Julia was about to get up, but then I sensed something was amiss. She grabbed the bill from the table. “Shit! They’re still chasing you for treatment payment. What the fuck is insurance for these days? How is he feeling anyway?”

  “He’s making it.” Now I was feeling the same way my brother had felt. I said, “But the money is bad, Julia. I don’t mean to beg or anything, just letting you know.”

  “How much?” my friend asked, reaching into her handbag.

  I grinned, “In the long run, more than you could possibly have in your wallet, so, please, don’t.”

  Not yet anyway, I wanted to look at my own bank account first, see how dire this all really was.

  “Wasn’t going to.” Instead of a wallet, Julia produced a bunch of colorful fliers and began sifting through them. “It must be somewhere in here… Got it!”

  She handed me a crumpled piece of paper. There was a carnival mask at the top, with Chicago Buyer’s Club written below it. There was a date and a phone number, but little else.

  “I got it from a friend. There’s this fancy place, where billionaires look for girls to go on dates with, sort of like The Bachelor.”

  “You’re suggesting I prostitute myself?”

  “Not at all! It’s a legit thing. You go there to hang out, find a guy, have a few drinks. It’s a paid gig, I’m told, too, so I thought you could use that…”

  “Right. Well, I don’t think I could.”

  Julia sighed, then shrugged. “Look, you don’t have to, but think about it. Give them a call.”

  “Yeah maybe, I gotta go to the bathroom.” I needed a minute. To process. To escape. With that, I left, leaving her alone with my phone, wine, and the flier that could change my life.

  Chapter 2

  Owen

  I was getting pissed. I’d spent the last hour on the phone, dealing with the worst customer support I had ever encountered. As smooth jazz played on the other end of the line, I looked down on Grant Park through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my top-floor office in the center of the Loop, the largest financial district in the country. In a way, I was grateful for the pause and the rare moments I could take to contemplate my business, my life, and everything.

  And there was a lot to think about. My roots were in Chicago, as was my business, but lately I felt like I needed a change…

  “Mr. Hayes?” a woman on the other end said, bringing me back to reality. It was a new voice – I guessed I was now speaking to the head manager, or whoever was in charge of that shitty showroom. “My na
me is…”

  I cleared my throat, loudly interrupting the woman. I had calmed down some, and was able to speak, respectfully, yet firmly. I said, “Let me tell you something. I trust you’re well aware of who I am, and by now I hope to God you understand what I’m asking of you. Please, don’t waste any more of my very valuable time today. I need this done as we agreed, by Monday. I don’t care what’s stopping you. Contact my assistant if you need any help.”

  I ended the call, tossing the phone on the couch in the middle of the office. Normally, I wouldn’t have cared to speak to some low-tier manager, but the last couple of days made me want to find any excuse not to speak to the law firm. Business had been great, but every once in a while, certain government agencies would set out on a witch-hunt, and I would have to find and navigate certain backroads.

  The speaker phone on my desk came to life: “Mr. Hayes?”

  “Here, Monica,” I called, still standing inches from the window.

  “Lucas Baxter is on line three. Says you have to talk to him. Says it’s important.”

  “Have I ever had unimportant calls?” I smirked. “Tell him I’ll be with him in five.”

  “Got it.”

  There wasn’t anything for me to do in these five minutes, but I had to make my lawyer, Baxter, wait. After four minutes had passed, I made my way to the desk in three strides and pressed a button.

  “Hayes.”

  “Where have you been all day?”

  “I’m away on business, Baxter, you know that.” A lie, but a decent one.

  “Good answer. Look, I’ve sent over some papers for you to look at, possible answers to this problems of ours. And I know I’ve told you this already, but you need to meet with the District Attorney.”

  “Lucas, let me cut you off here. We’ve talked about it, yes, and my answer remains the same. Tell him I’ll be in Brussels until September, and after that he can catch me in Osaka.”

  “You’re always somewhere…” Baxter said. “Look, okay, I’ll get it done.”

  “You better.”

  I ended the call and walked back to the windows.

  God damn that District Attorney, always looking into my business when I didn’t fucking need it. He’d have the IRS on my ass soon enough.

  I thought about calling him, getting it over with.

  But no, not yet. I had to take some time off and regroup. I knew it was a crappy strategy – innocent businessmen don’t find excuses not to prove their innocence. Or, rather, not to negotiate it, at least. There was a temptation to really leave the country. Lie low somewhere in China.

  “Mr. Hayes?” Monica called. She was standing at my door. Monica was five years older than me, but looked five years younger. She was a looker, and crazy smart, but she might have been the only woman in the world who wasn’t interested in me. She’d been married for the better part of her life, since college, and perfectly happy. Unlike all the other women I’d ever known, she had no interest in my money. Ironically, I had no interest in her. “Mr. Hayes? Where are you?”

  “Just… thinking.”

  “Oh, now you’re thinking!”

  “Hey, watch it. What did you want?”

  Monica widened her eyes and pursed her lips, gesturing at my phone. There was only one man she would bother to announce in person.

  I cocked my head, feeling annoyed already. “What does he want?”

  She made a face. “No idea honestly, but you better take it.”

  “Thank you Monica.”

  I stared up at the ceiling. Mother fucker. What a day. Lazily, I walked over to the couch and grabbed the phone. There was a missed call.

  Fucking Lawson. He was my friend, but a shitty one at that. I viewed Lawson as my mentor, in a sense, always learning from his mistakes that he so often found himself in. How he got away with half the shit he did I would never fully understand. He had somehow successfully managed to find millions of dollars’ worth of loopholes in his company’s taxes. When the government came to question him, he was a cocky idiot, which only made them investigate into his business more. I tried to tell him to quit acting like a kid but he never listened to me. He always said that he knew people that could get him out of things, and he would use that to his advantage. I never fully believed him until I watched his problem with the government slowly disappear.

  If there was one other thing I had learned over the years through Lawson, it was diplomacy. You never knew when you might need someone’s help, and staying on good terms with everyone was only smart.

  I picked up the phone and redialed, mentally preparing myself for whatever trouble he had found himself in again.

  Lawson picked up after the first ring. “Owen, my friend! Happy you returned the call! I wasn’t expecting it, frankly! How have you been?”

  “You read the news. Hayes Inc. is stronger than ever,” I lied.

  “Congratulations, buddy! I knew you would pull through!”

  “Of course we did.” I clutched the elbow rest.

  “True. But word on the street is the District Attorney is gunning for you, know anything about it?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ugh he just wanted to run the rumor mill. I didn’t give a shit about what he wanted to know, I had to actually handle my business.

  “Well I hear he frequents an investment of mine.”

  “An investment? Which one?” Lawson owned properties all over town, easy to hide his money that way.

  “Do you remember that place we used to frequent in the old days? The Chicago Buyer’s Club?”

  I did. Back in the day, when we had just graduated college and started making our first money, the club was where we spent our weekends. Those were some legendary parties that saw cash flying in the air amidst girls’ underwear. I stopped visiting it right after things with work started to pick up.

  “What about it?” I asked.

  “Well, it’s somewhere the higher end people in this city like to be.”

  “Why are you telling me this Lawson?”

  “Hey I figured we used to help each other, and I screwed up, stopping that relationship. This is my olive branch. Meet with the District Attorney, or even better snap a few pics of him enjoying the ladies and be on your way. It can only help your case.”

  He had a point.

  The me of five years ago would’ve been out the door already, but the me of today sat still.

  “I don’t know about that, Lawson. As tempting as that sounds,” – it didn’t – “I think I’ll pass.” I wasn’t very interested in getting back involved with Lawson and his underhanded tactics.

  “Come on, man, don’t be like that. Look, I’ll be paying for everything, whatever you want. Women, booze, whatever, you just get that pic.”

  He wanted this blackmail for his own purposes, I was sure of it. But it was still worth a shot.

  “Oh, and did I mention?” Lawson said, bringing me out of my thoughts on the commissioner. “There will be an auction! A dozen of hottest chicks we could find! The best of the best!”

  The idea didn’t sound appealing at all, but speaking with the District Attorney there might play to my advantage. I doubted the DA would like it to be common knowledge that he frequented auction houses of women. It was even worse than a potential sex club.

  “Okay, Lawson, I’ll bite.”

  “I knew you would want to come! I will see you there Sunday at nine, okay? I’ll tell the boys to reserve a space for you at the staff parking.”

  “You’re overdoing it.”

  Lawson laughed. “I know, I’m just happy my old pal Owen is back!”

  “I never left,” I said. That part was true, he left me. I was still here.

  As soon as I hung up, I saw Monica stepping into the office. “I cannot believe you agreed to meet with that asshole!”

  “Easy. I’m not meeting with him. I’m checking out the club, and speaking to the other attendees. Maybe I’ll get a date or something.” I smirked at her, we both knew I didn’t n
eed to buy some girl.

  I could have whatever I wanted.

  Whoever I wanted.

  Whenever I wanted.

  Monica considered it. Then said, “Wear the navy suit. It makes your eyes shine.”

  I smirked, feeling better for the first time that day. I was already going to wear a blue one.

  On my way out, she turned to me and said, “You know he wants something from you, right?”

  “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

  Chapter 3

  Sydney

  I got the call back from the Chicago Buyer’s Club on Saturday evening. By that time I had given up on the idea, and even Julia stopped urging me to call them again. But then again, Julia had spent most of the weekend out in the city, bar-trotting, as I called it.

  Back on Thursday, after Julia had gone to sleep, I finished that bottle of wine and, of course, picked up that flier. Twice I dialed the number and hung up before it could connect, laughing at myself and ridiculing the idea. Yet, every time I remembered why I would even consider doing it, I thought it was a good plan. After all, getting a few hundred for a couple of drinks with some spoiled jerk wasn’t too bad. And judging by the level of secrecy, no one would ever know!

  So, I finally called and forced myself to sit through half a dozen rings, expecting to hear a voice of some sleazy old man, but to my surprise, it wasn’t.

  “Evening. Chicago Buyer’s Club.” There was a slight European accent to the woman’s voice, but just distinguishable enough to be sexy.

  “Um, evening,” I replied, realizing I had no idea what to say.

  “Are you a young lady willing to take part in our Lonely Hearts event on Sunday? There is still a spot or two left for only the sexiest women.”

  Intrigued by her velvety voice, I said, “Yeah. Yes, I think I am interested.” I felt like I was in a spy movie, talking in code. “I do have a lonely heart.” Wasn’t that the truth? Between taking care of Declan and working more than full time, I couldn’t even remember the last time I had felt a man’s touch.

  “I believe we can help with that. Please, state your name, parameters, and, if possible, send a link to your social media profile to this number after we’re finished.”