Dirty Dealer: A Hero Club Novel

by Kacey Shea

  “Rachel?” I knock on the bathroom door. “You in there?”

  Nothing. I open it to be sure, but she’s not inside. Nerves and a little shot of panic surge forward as I check the rest of the house. She’s not inside. Her purse is gone, so she must have stepped out. Still. There’s no note, or message, or anything. Maybe she left for work already. Without telling me? I always drive her.

  Maybe she ran an errand? Took a walk?

  I’m sure there’s a plausible explanation. She wouldn’t leave for the day without saying good-bye. Not after this weekend.

  I call her phone, but there’s no answer. Where the hell is she? I head to the kitchen and brew coffee, knowing when she returns we won’t have much time to get her to the studio. Minutes tick by painfully slow, and I stare at the door expecting her to walk through it any second. I reach for my phone as it begins to buzz with alerts. But it’s not her.

  Emails from vendors and clients fill my inbox, but I have trouble concentrating when Rachel isn’t here. I haven’t been putting in the hours I usually do, which is an adjustment to make. I never thought of myself as a workaholic, because I love what I do and I set my own schedule. But spending this week with Rachel has made me realize how good it feels to step away from the phone and live a life off the clock.

  Walter emerges from the hall, stretching his little legs and standing at my feet to stare at the front door. He needs to go out.

  My heart sinks as I check the time. She really left for work on her own. Damn. I can’t fathom why she would. Crazy as it is, I enjoyed playing chauffer. Not because I particularly love sitting in traffic, but because it was time with her. I looked forward to one last ride.

  Heading back to my bedroom to pull on a T-shirt and athletic shorts, I try calling her cell again. After four rings it goes to voicemail.

  “Rachel. It’s me. I must’ve missed you this morning. Anyway, give me a call when you get a chance. Or shoot me a text. I—” My voice strains as my brain stumbles over what to say. The need to know she’s okay, that we’re good, presses heavy on my chest in a way I can’t seem to shake. “I missed waking up with you. I’m not sure I can get through ten hours without your voice.” A chuckle escapes my lips because it’s the truth. “This weekend was incredible. You’re incredible. Have a great day, sweetheart.” God, I’d punch myself in the face for being such a mush, but I can’t help it. It’s how I feel.

  In case she’s not able to check her voicemail, I fire off a text as well.

  Me: Missed waking up with you in my bed. Have a beautiful day. See you tonight.

  She’s most likely driving, or working. She won’t be able to answer my text or call.

  So, she didn’t wake me first to tell me she was leaving. Knowing her, she probably didn’t want to disturb my sleep. She’s probably happily on her way to work this very moment, thinking of all the delicious and dirty things we did together this weekend. I should do the same. I shouldn’t be worried or obsessed about her exact location like some helicopter parent. Though, maybe I can convince her to install an app on her phone so I always know where she is.

  Walter barks a hurry the hell up, I gotta go bark and I hustle to the entryway. His eyes bounce from me and the door, anxious to be walked and fed.

  “Right,” I grumble, slipping on a pair of shoes before hooking him to his leash. He whines at the door, his little tail quivering with anticipation. As soon as I open it, he darts to the elevator. If he weighed more than ten pounds, he’d likely take my arm off.

  Inside the elevator, I resume staring at my cell. The text I sent mocks me with her lack of reply. Nothing. A tinge of irritation crawls into my thoughts, mixing with worry. Something isn’t right. Why would she leave without saying good morning? Or good-bye. Or anything. This weekend was special, or so I thought. I met her physical needs, there’s no doubt. Was it something I said?

  Did she wake up this morning and regret what we did?

  My chest hurts, and an uneasiness settles into my bones. What if she doesn’t want more after this weekend? That what we shared was a fling, and one she’s not looking to repeat. Fuck. The idea never occurred to me. No, I was too busy making her come. But now, in the light of a new day, I regret that we didn’t have the conversation. The one that defines our desires, and labels our relationship.

  What if, after everything we’ve shared, she doesn’t want to be together?

  The fear of losing her sends my pulse flying. It’s taken me years to let anyone get close. But with Rachel, I couldn’t help myself. Before her, I’d never met anyone I’d wanted to date, let alone picture a life with. Equal parts infuriating, beautiful, kind, and talented, she worked her way into my heart from our first encounter. Not even two weeks later and I’m a fool in love, wondering and obsessing as to why she’s not in my bed.

  As the elevator drops with each floor, clarity hits me square in the chest.

  I love her. I am head over heels, out of my mind, can’t live without her, in love with Rachel Delgado.

  I love Rachel.

  I love her.

  Does she feel the same? The urge to tell her this very second might be a warning that I’ve lost my mind. Love does that, right? Makes a person act crazy.

  Outside, Walter heads straight for the bushes to do his business. Everything is probably fine. This is all in my head. Get a grip, man.

  Only, my stomach tightens with worry that something isn’t right. I won’t be able to relax until she’s back home tonight. Maybe then I can convince her to stay, forever if I’m lucky.

  After a quick walk around the block to clear my head, I head back inside the condo lobby with a worn out Walter. The full day of work ahead provides the distraction to stop obsessing over Rachel. My mind busies as I tally my list of tasks to complete.

  “Morning, Mr. Lawrence. Morning, Walter.” One of the security guards, Robert, lifts his hand in a wave from his perch behind the desk. That reminds me. Rachel’s car.

  “Morning, Robert. Has the car been delivered?”

  “Yes, sir.” He nods. “Everything handled just as you asked.”

  “Good.” I brace a hand on the edge of the desk. Might as well pick up the keys while I’m down here. Walter does a one-and-a-half rotation turn, curling up at my feet as if he expects I will be awhile. I tap my fingers, a twinge of impatience at the fact Robert makes no move to hand over the keys. I glance over the lip of the desk, searching for an envelope marked with my name. “By any chance did you see Miss Delgado leave this morning?”

  “Yeah, she—” Robert nods his head, his features tightening with a little frown.

  My apprehension is back. Damn it. I knew something wasn’t right. “Did she—?” Look upset? Thoroughly fucked?—“seem her usual self?”

  “She did.” He regards me a moment, as if unsure what I’m asking. Rightfully so, since I don’t know how to ask for the information I really need. “She picked up her keys and I saw her out.”

  Oh. Shit. My stomach drops, dips, and twists. “Her car?”

  “Yes, the LeSabre,” he says slowly. “It was delivered, as you arranged, and then she came to get the keys.”

  “The keys.” My brain short circuits. There must be something wrong with my ears. How could Rachel get the keys, or know her car would be here waiting? We never spoke about it. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. She knows.

  “Mr. Lawrence.” Robert shifts uncomfortably. “Her license matched the registration. Should I have phoned you first?”

  “Tell me exactly what happened.” I keep my tone even, but I’m barely able to contain my displeasure. My fingers curl into fists. None of this makes sense. “Details are important.”

  Like a detective relentlessly in pursuit of a culprit, I make Robert recount every single word exchanged. From the moment her car was delivered, to the second she drove off. The entire exchange went down in less than ten minutes, and after he’s related everything multiple times I’m more confused than before. How could she have known? Did she all along? Noth
ing adds up.

  I glance at my phone, still no reply. I consider calling her again, but something stops me. For the first time I have to consider that I’ve totally fucked any chance I had at a relationship with Rachel. What have I done?

  46

  Rachel

  I arrive at Americana much too early, but can’t think of anywhere else to go. My mind is reeling from this morning. I can’t believe he kept Iron Maiden from me! As much as I want an explanation, I also don’t want to know the answer. This weekend was damn near perfect, but in the morning light, my memories are tainted in deceit and lies.

  With at least an hour to kill, I head to the café across from the studios. I’d head onto set early, but the last thing I want is to make small talk about my weekend. I don’t trust myself, or my emotional state.

  I need to immerse myself in work today. That’ll be my only focus, and I’ll sort the rest out after. I step into the busy café and find a seat near the window after ordering a coffee. My phone alarm blasts through the room, catching the attention of more than a few people. My regular wake-up alarm. I silence it and shove it into my bag. How different would this morning have been if I’d just stayed in bed? I never would have met Ryan, or witnessed my car’s return. Was the early morning delivery all part of Jude’s plan of deception? My stomach dips and turns at the thought.

  I pick up my coffee for a long, soothing sip, attempting to find some peace when a familiar face enters the café. It’s Jenni, and she’s with a few other equally gorgeous actors. A few I recognize; they must be from the show she’s filming. I slink back into my seat, hoping she won’t notice I’m here.

  No such luck. “Rae! Hey, girl!” Her party is led to a table across the crowded room, but instead of following them, she heads my way.

  “Hey.” I infuse brightness into my voice, but I’m not sure it works.

  “Hey.” Jenni eyes the open seat at my table, biting the edge of her lip. Her voice is low and soft, the kind you use to calm an upset animal. “Mind if I sit a minute?”

  My spine prickles with unease. “Sure.” I straighten in my seat.

  “How crazy is this? We keep running into each other.” She laughs lightly, but her movements are stiff with discomfort.

  Maybe my face is doing a poor job of hiding how horrible I feel. “It’s great.” I try for genuine. “Those are your co-stars?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She waves in their general direction. “I should actually get back over there. We have to be on set soon. But, it’s just, well, I think there’s something I should tell you.”

  Something with the other roommates? My stomach clenches at the idea of more bad news. I’m not sure how much more I can take. “Yeah?”

  “I don’t want you to get offended, or hate me, or whatever.” She holds up her hands, her eyes darting from me to the tabletop. “But look, that guy you were with at the gala?” Her eyes lift with seriousness. “He’s not a good person.”

  Jude. Instinctively, my mouth opens to defend him, but the words get caught when I think of this morning. A nervous whisper leaves my lips instead. “What do you know?”

  “He was bragging about getting with you that night.” She swallows, glancing away to deliver another blow. “But then his friend asked about having you next. Like, he wanted to buy you or something, and look, I wasn’t going to say anything. It’s none of my business. But I thought you should know.” She mashes her lips together, and shifts in her seat.

  I bite my lip, because I’m not sure I can manage much more than a nod.

  “I’m sorry, Rae.” She reaches out, her hand covering mine. “You are a good person. You deserve better.” She swallows thickly. “Don’t hate me.”

  I shake my head, hating the worry on her face. “Thanks for telling me.”

  She slides from the chair and lays a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I’ve got to go. I’m sorry.” She makes her way across the café to join her co-stars.

  My eyes stare at the liquid in my cup, my gaze unfocused. My nose stings. Tears well in my eyes, but I blink them back. I can’t believe it. The Jude I know would never say those things, but do I really know him? After this morning I can’t say I do. But what reason does Jenni have to lie? It’s not as if she mixed him up with someone else, either. She saw us together the morning after the gala.

  My stomach churns with an ache, and I think I might be sick. I drop a few bucks on the table and grab my purse, needing to get outside. Out of here. Out of my head. I push through the doors and make it to my car when my phone vibrates in my hand. I’m almost terrified to look, but my willpower isn’t that strong.

  Jude: Missed waking up with you in my bed. Have a beautiful day. See you tonight.

  The message hits like an arrow through its mark. I can’t reconcile the man I know with the one who’s been lying and scheming. I grip the phone in my hand, resisting the urge to chuck it across the parking lot. I want to throw it to the ground, stomp on its screen, and break it so he can’t send me anymore messages, or call.

  Practicality wins out. I don’t have money to replace a broken phone, so I settle for the do not disturb setting.

  My nostrils burn and my eyes sting. I want to curl up and cry. No. Damn it. I am not doing this. Not here, and not now. I can’t fall apart. I don’t have the luxury. I have to get to work. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I inhale all the strength I have. I made a mistake, one I won’t make again.

  Tossing my bag into the car, I slide inside and turn the key, thankful when her engine roars to life. “Don’t let me down, Iron Maiden. I need you.” I pat the dashboard and give it a loving stroke. Yeah, I apparently talk to my car now.

  I glance out the rearview mirror one last time and shove aside my feelings, locking them down with the resolve to deal with them after work. And thank God for this job. Without it, I don’t want to consider what I’d do.

  It’s after eight by the time I swing into my old apartment complex. I had to hit the bank to withdraw next month’s rent after a long day on set. I forgot how much this drive sucks, but thankfully Iron Maiden doesn’t let me down, and I crank my tunes to pass the time. I haven’t cried once, and for that I should win an award.

  It takes nearly fifteen minutes to find an open parking space, and it’s nowhere close. I slide my key into the lock with the dream of kicking off these heels as soon as I’m inside. “Hello,” I call out. The kitchen is empty, but voices from the bedrooms tell me I’m not alone. It’s weird, being here again. It’s my apartment, but I feel like an outsider.

  The door to my room with Kari Ann is closed, but light shines through the space in the floorboard so I knock.

  “Come in,” a voice I don’t recognize says.

  I push open the door, then double-check that I have the right room.

  “Hey.” A woman glances up from her book. She’s on my bed, a laptop and pile of papers to her right. She’s wearing pajamas. On my bed. “Kari Ann isn’t here.”

  It is my bed. I’m not losing my mind. I swear I’m not. “Who are you?”

  The woman blinks, taken aback by my question. “Uh, I’m Celia.”

  But that doesn’t answer my question. Why is there a stranger making herself at home on my bed, in my room?

  “Can I help you with something?” Her gaze is wary, as she shuts her book to set it down. On my fucking bed!

  “Why are you here?” A laugh, almost manic bubbles from my stomach. My propriety snaps and my voice grows in volume. “No, seriously, why are you here, and what are you doing on that bed?”

  Celia eyes her phone and my body with alarm. “I live here.”

  Oh. That would make perfect sense, except for the fact this is not her bed.

  “OMG, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Crystal’s voice is nails on a chalkboard from two doors down.

  I step back to glare, all plans to mend fences and move on obliterated. “What the fuck is Celia doing in my bed?”

  “Your bed?” Celia says, confused as I was two minutes ago.

&
nbsp; Crystal steps into the doorway, a sharp lofty laugh escaping her foul mouth. “You think you still live here? Are you on drugs?”

  “I’ve been gone for a week.” I say the words as if she’s dumb, because I think she might be. Not that it matters; it’s clear she’s already given my bed to someone else. “We have a lease.”

  “You just took off with all your shit. How was I supposed to know you’d be back?”

  “You could have fucking called!”

  “Uh, is this a problem?” Celia says.

  “Yeah!” I say at the same time Crystal says no.

  “What is your fucking problem?” I stalk toward Crystal.

  Her eyes widen and she shrinks back as if I might hit her. Honestly, she’s right to be worried. I haven’t felt this unhinged in my entire life. “You’re a bitch!”

  “Celia, call the cops!” Crystal shouts.

  I roll my eyes, disgusted at her and myself a little. “Don’t fucking call the police.”

  “Don’t listen to her.”

  “Uh . . .” Celia holds her cell, her lips parted and eyes wide. Welcome to the shit show, honey.

  “You’re a horrible person. You know that, right?” I say to Crystal. Much calmer now, I take out my keys and unwind the one for the apartment from the silver loop. “Here.” I toss it at Crystal’s feet. Turning on my heel, I stalk by Celia on my way out. I hope she enjoys a lying, stealing roommate. I’d warn her but it’s a waste of my breath.

  My body shakes with the crash of adrenaline. What a horrible person! All of them. What the hell? What is wrong with people? I can’t believe they gave away my apartment. You’d think it’d be something Jenni would mention. Oh, God, I’m officially homeless. My breath quickens.

  Rage rattles in my chest, and I all but run the rest of the way to Iron Maiden. What am I going to do? Where do I go? Tears fall before I lock myself inside. “Argh! Shit!” I let loose a scream and pound the steering wheel. “Fucking shit!” Sobs wreck my body and I give in to everything I’ve held back. The hurt. The betrayal. All of it. I don’t bother starting the engine. I want to move forward, but I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to do.