by Rye Hart
I turned to leave, and Jon reached out for me again. This time, I was expecting it and dodged his grip, waltzing over to my boss, Leon-- Tommy's father. He was standing there with his hands on his hips and a frown that went all the way up to his eyes. He was shaking his head. He didn't look happy.
“What is it?” I asked, giving him my most innocent, doe-eyed look.
“Were you antagonizing our VIP again?”
“No,” I scoffed. “Me?”
Though I knew if given a chance, Jon Lincoln would have a different story to tell. I just hoped Leon didn't ask him, because even though that massive pig bastard was way in the wrong, Leon was always going to err on the side of his paying customers. Especially customers like Jon Lincoln, who made millions of dollars each and every year, and spent a good chunk of it in this bar. “We were just messing around,” I said. “Telling some jokes. Isn't that what I'm supposed to do? Entertain the customers?”
Leon looked past me at the table of VIPs, then back to me again. He was not buying it. Shit.
“What have I told you about your attitude, Casey?”
I repeated exactly what he'd told me many times before, “If you want to keep this job, you can't get into fights with the customers. It's bad for business, no matter how cute you – err, rather I – look in a mini-skirt.”
I chuckled to myself picturing Leon in a mini skirt, but he didn't find it as funny as I did. Pity. I wish Leon had a sense of humor.
“You're on real thin ice here, Casey,” he said. “This is your last warning.”
That got my attention – and made my blood boil. That behemoth over there was the one who was in the wrong. He touched Sasha inappropriately and manhandled me – and yet Leon, let's that slide. The son of a bitch.
“You don't even know that I did anything wrong back there. ”
He motioned for me to look, and when I did, I saw the large group getting up and leaving the club. Jon was looking over at me with a look of pure hatred, as if he could shoot death rays from his eyes. Man, ‘roid rage makes people pissy.
“Err, well maybe that has nothing to do with me?”
Judging by the look on his face, Leon wasn't buying it. But still, I wasn't the one in the wrong. Leon just shook his head, his frown deepening.
“This is your last chance, Casey. One more incident and you're gone,” he said, his voice grim. “I should fire you right now, but Tommy insists you're one of the best we have. I'm only cutting you some slack because he's vouching for you.”
I looked over at Tommy and he waved, a big, goofy grin on his face. He'd been listening the entire time, and he was the reason I'd kept my job. Jesus Christ, I never thought I'd owe that brat a favor. I turned faced Leon.
“Got it. I'll be better, I promise,” I said, snapping him a little salute.
He grumbled and turned away, walking to the other end of the bar. I was left standing there simultaneously feeling like I'd dodged the Grim Reaper's scythe – again – and entirely pissed off because I hadn't done anything wrong but stand up for myself.
Keeping my mouth shut wasn't going to be easy. I've never been very good about submitting to others – especially powerful men. But, this job kept a roof over our heads and without it, I'd have been screwed. Sure, I could have gone to other clubs in the city, but Obelisk was the hottest nightclub in Beverly Hills, and the tips were unbelievable. To pay Los Angeles rent prices and to feed my siblings, I needed to stay there. That meant that I was going to have to do my best to zip it and keep my temper under wraps.
Why, oh why, did I have to get my daddy's temper?
It was the only thing I'd inherited from that son of a bitch.
CHAPTER THREE
MALCOLM
Mom and I were sitting at an ocean-side restaurant in Santa Monica that overlooked the Pacific. The air was saturated with the aroma of the sea as the waves crashed on the shoreline below us. In the distance, you could see the world-famous Santa Monica Pier, where my dad had brought me when I was little.
That was long before he'd become obsessed with his business; back when he used to have time for frivolous things like that. I had so many memories of the two of us walking the pier, eating funnel cakes, and riding the roller coaster over and over again. Memories I cherished. Treasured.
Memories I'd hoped to share with my own children. One day. Judging by everything that had happened and everything that had been done though, those memories would apparently be brought to life sooner, rather than later. Ready or not, here they come – and I most definitely wasn't ready.
Mom took my hand in hers, a serious expression on her face. “We can't let Adam take over the company.”
“I agree,” I said. “I didn't spend my entire life working for Dad just to get tossed aside like that. Especially not by somebody like him.”
“You're not being tossed aside, Malcolm. It's just – well – your father and I believe it's about time for you to settle down,” she said, a wistful smile on her face. “When he initially told me his plans, I thought it was fantastic. I thought it would encourage you to take the next step with Danielle. But now –”
“Now that you know the truth about her, you mean?”
She nodded. “I had no idea she was using you like that.”
“All this time, she's only cared about my money,” I admitted.
I stared down at my hands, feeling the hurt growing inside of me. I bit the rage and the bitterness all back though, not wanting to let it get out of hand. I did not want to lash out at my parents. They didn't deserve that.
“Five years with her, and for what?” I asked. “To find out she doesn't even love me.”
I'd read the text messages on her phone. I knew it was wrong, knew I was violating her privacy, but I just had to. She'd just been so secretive and distant over the prior few months, that I knew something was up. She wouldn't communicate with me and just kept brushing me off.
So, one day, when she was in the shower, her phone started going off. It was buzzing like crazy with incoming text messages. Even though I knew it was wrong, I picked it up, and well, I found out how she really felt about me. Or rather, how she felt about somebody else. The texts came from a guy named Tyler. A guy she had no problem telling she loved. And, a guy who knew all about me. I was the idiot. The sugar daddy who was supporting their life together.
“She had us all fooled, Malcolm,” my mom said. “There's no way you could have known.”
Mom squeezed my hand. The only person in the entire world that could see me at my weakest and never judge me for it was my mother. She was the one person who knew the real me. It was something I didn't know if I was truly going to be able to share with anybody else. I had real doubts that anybody else would be able to see me for who I was, faults and all, and not just the guy with the big bank account.
“Yeah, but I don't like being played for a fool,” I said.
I downed my drink, finishing the last of my wine. My mom flagged down the waiter, bringing him over for a refill. Her glass was close to empty as well.
“Do you think you could talk to him?” I pleaded. “Ask for more time, perhaps?”
Mom looked down at her hands, and I knew that look all too well. She was submissive to my father, so asking her to speak up for herself – let alone me – was asking a lot, and I knew it. But, there was a lot at stake here. Too much to make a rash and stupid decision. Not only was my entire life hanging in the balance, but, so was the company that my parents had built over the years.
“It isn't just Dad's company to give away, you know,” I said, making a last-ditch attempt. “It's just as much yours.”
A faint smile crossed her lips, and she looked up at me, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
“Not many people realize that, Malcolm,” she said softly.
“I know the truth, Mom. Dad couldn't have done it without you,” I said. “You have as much say as he does.”
“I wish that were true, Malcolm,” she replied. “But, you know yo
ur father won't listen to me.”
“He would, Mom. He listens to you more than anyone else,” I argued.
“That's not true. Things with your father have been more difficult these last few years. Ever since – ”
She didn't finish her sentence, but she didn't have to. I knew when things went downhill for the two of them. It was the day that Adam came into the picture. He came into our family like a tornado, destroying everything in his path. There was so much anger and resentment, on both sides, and he'd eaten it up. He savored the destruction and reveled in the chaos he caused.
For a while there, I'd feared it might mean the end of my parents’ marriage. Somehow though, they'd pulled through. My mother, however, had never been the same. She'd taken a backseat to everything in the family – including the business – and stopped arguing with my dad. She seemed to have folded into herself.
It killed me to see her submit to him like that – even if it had saved their marriage. My mom deserved better than that. She was a great woman and didn't deserve to be forced to the sidelines the way she had been.
“I think a better option is to move forward, honey. To do as your father asks,” she said quietly. “Besides, you've always wanted to be a father yourself, Malcolm. I know you and Danielle had names picked out and everything. You'll just be doing it without her now.”
My chest tightened up at the mention of my ex. Yes, we'd had names picked out. Several of them. Girls and boys. We'd wanted several kids – sons and daughters. She'd wanted four or more, while I was content with two or three. Nothing had been set in stone, of course. We were just going to see where life took us.
I'd had no idea, back then, that life would bring me here. Contemplating the idea of being a single father, of having a child with a woman I didn't even know or care about – it felt wrong. It felt wrong on so many levels.
“I've made an appointment with a surrogacy agency,” she said. “We'll speak to them on Monday.”
I cringed. “Mom, I'm really not comfortable with you doing all this,” I said. “It's my child, so I should be making the arrangements.”
Her face fell, and I immediately felt terrible. She probably liked being useful; having a purpose and a mission again. She looked like I'd just taken it all away from her and I felt like a total ass.
“It's just – awkward. Think about it,” I say. “My mother comes with me to a clinic where we discuss – ”
There was no way I was going to talk about sperm with my mom – in a public place, no less – so I left it hanging. Talk about an inappropriate discussion to be having at the table.
“I understand, Malcolm,” she said. “The appointment is at nine o'clock, Monday morning. I'll text you the address and you can go alone if you'll feel more comfortable.”
“Thank you.”
I actually wasn't feeling entirely thankful in the moment. I still wasn't sure if I wanted to go about it that way, but I was running out of time – and without Danielle in the picture, I didn't have many options either. In fact, unless we found a way to convince dad to change his mind about all of this, I was pretty much out of options, period.
My phone buzzed. “Danielle,” I muttered, deleting the message. “She still wants to talk. I have a feeling Adam told her about the deal, and she says she can help me. Yeah, sure you can, Danielle. Not that I'd even know the child was mine for sure if we did go that route.”
“Did she ever explain why she came to the house with Adam?”
I nodded. “She said it was to see me, but the way he was hanging all over her, I seriously doubt that,” I said. “She wanted to get even with me. Make me jealous.”
“Manipulative little whore,” my mom muttered.
I stifled a laugh. My mom wasn't one to call people names, but her loyalty to me knew no bounds, and I loved her for it.
I looked at the time and downed the rest of my wine. “Sorry, Ma, I have to get going,” I said. “Hanging with Greg tonight.”
“Another night on the town?” She cocked an eyebrow. “You know that when you have a baby, you can't do this.”
“Exactly why I need to have fun now. Before I'm strapped down with responsibility,” I said, giving her a wink. “Don't worry. I won't be out too late.”
“And you'll make that appointment on Monday?”
“Yes, Mom,” I sighed.
It was worth at least talking to them and explore any options I might have. Especially if it made my mom happy. After all, it sounded like I was going to need to have a baby sometime within the next nine months or so if I wanted to make sure my father's company didn't end up in Adam's hands.
That meant that, unless I met the girl of my dreams at some point within the next few days or so, and things moved very fast, it was likely not going to happen.
Hell, I'd have had better odds at winning the lottery. Damn my dad for doing this to me. Damn him.
~ooo000ooo~
The Obelisk was the club for playboys with disposable income, which was exactly why Greg always chose it when we went out. Situated in Beverly Hills, it was nearly impossible to get inside without knowing someone or being known yourself.
Celebrities often posted selfies from inside the club, in front of the waterfalls that are several stories high, surrounded by glass so the water and light created rainbows and other prismatic effects. It was a work of art in and of itself, and perfect for Instagramable moments.
Such was life in the digital age.
Of course, the beautiful cocktail waitresses didn't hurt the club's reputation either. Especially since the outfits had gotten skimpier recently – another reason Greg always wanted to go there.
“Think that hottie will be here tonight?” he asked me as we pushed past some models puckering for their iPhone cameras in front of the waterfall.
“Which one?” I laughed, looking around us. “We're surrounded by hotties.”
“You know which one,” he said, his voice colored with excitement. “The one that takes no shit from anyone. I love a feisty woman.”
Yeah, I knew exactly which one he'd meant. He was right, she didn't take shit from anybody. Small, but fierce. There was definitely something sexy about that. I could see why Greg was practically wetting himself.
“Carly or something like that...”
“Casey,” I said.
Greg shot me a half-grin. “Ah man, you know her name,” he said. “Maybe she can help you forget all about Danielle.”
“No, I think I'm going to pass,” I said. “Not into rebounds, Greg. You know that.”
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “I'll make sure to tell you how she is in the sack.”
“Yeah, you stand as much of a chance of getting her into the sack as I do of driving my car to Mars.”
Greg was strictly a trust-fund kid. Daddy's money took care of him, so he could travel the world and claim to be a socialite. Nightclubs had even paid for his very presence – and for what? Just to claim they had a billionaire playboy frequent the club? I guess it brought in the ladies or something like that. Still, I had a hard time calling it a job.
He'd always had the inside scoop on the best places to party, though, which was why we'd made a good pair. Even though I found him to be a raging doucehbag most of the time, we'd practically grown up together, so he got a pass from time to time.
We slid into a corner booth that faced the dance floor, which was currently filled with bright lights, more prismatic colors, and lots of women wearing next to nothing, bumping and grinding with the music. Lots of skin, long hair, long legs, short skirts, big tits – suffice it to say, the view was pretty incredible from our booth.
The wall behind us was a large, ever-flowing waterfall with more lights streaming out of it. The name, Obelisk, came from the fact that the nightclub itself was several stories tall, with different levels, some of them feeling like hidden retreats. I had no doubt about what happened in some of the little nooks and crannies within the club – places where the light did not shine. There
were stories aplenty about the goings-on in those hidden spaces.
High-end call girls could almost always be seen around the bar. You could just as easily order up a blowjob as you could a vodka-tonic. Your choice of blondes, brunettes, redheads – and even one fierce looking femme with pink, green and blue mermaid-inspired hair was available if you were into that.
Mermaid girl caught me staring. She gave me a toothy smile and slipped from the bar, walking toward us.
“Oooh, she might be the answer to your Danielle problems,” Greg said, licking his lips as he checked the girl out. “No rebound, just a night of unbridled fucking. Sounds like the perfect way to get over her to me. Just hate-fuck that girl and get Danielle out of your system, brother.”
“I don't need to fuck around, Greg,” I said. “I've got bigger things to worry about than getting over my ex.”
Mermaid girl leaned over the table with a big smile, her face covered in glitter. Maybe without all the makeup and glitter, she might have been attractive, but I didn't have a sea creature fetish and glitter was a pain in the ass to get of your clothes and hair.
“My name is Leilani,” she purred, her voice like velvet.
It's magical how high-end hookers can do that sort of thing with their voice. I've never known other women who can sound so sensual and sultry doing nothing more than giving you their name. I highly doubt her name was Leilani though. She looked more like a Jamie or a Sarah to me. Plainish, girl-next-door, with garish makeup to help her stand out.
“Greg,” he held out his hand. “And this is Malcolm, my good friend who happens to need a world-class humping.”
“Shut the hell up, Greg,” I said, annoyance and embarrassment flooding my body.
Leilani looked over at me, and asked, “May I join you?”
“No thanks,” I said.
She pouted.
“I'm not into paying for sex,” I explained.
Greg slapped me on the arm and I gave him a look of sheer irritation.
“What? It's the truth,” I snapped. “If you're into it, go for it. But I've never had to pay someone to fuck me, and I never will.”