by Michelle
With three days off and a long list of stuff to take care of before her next shift at the Jensen PD, her priority at the moment was a shower and sleep. As much as she loved working four ten hour days, some of those days were longer than the hours she clocked. Waiting for a social worker to pick up Sal tonight had taken a heavy toll. The kid was almost a baby, thirteen and on the streets. Using drugs.
Lizette cursed out loud in the empty house and wondered who in the hell put their child out on the street at such a young age. Sure, her so called parents had dumped her much earlier, but not on the streets. They’d opted to leave her at Granny’s house. Now her house.
Granny had been the best parent.
Lizette walked down the short hall and stopped at the corner bedroom. No need to turn on the light, because she knew exactly what a little illumination would reveal. The bed was stripped, the sheets already washed and put in the linin closet in the hall. Boxes were stacked and ready to be assembled on the bare bed, masking tape at the ready.
It was time.
Well, it would be time tomorrow.
She moved on down the hall to the room once used by her mother and turned on the light. When she’d finished her stint in the Navy and come home, Granny insisted they redecorate. And thank the good Lord for that, because the difference between the before-the-military kid she was and the after-the-military adult she evolved into was like comparing a skunk to racehorse.
Lizette made quick work of a shower, her head buzzing with the things she wanted to finish tomorrow. One thing the Navy taught her was planning and follow-through. She had a list and would damn well get it all marked off by the end of the next day. Once her body relaxed, she was out for the count.
***
Jason Wortham, III maneuvered his mustang around the potholes in the parking lot of Mark’s club and wondered what in the hell the man was thinking. He, of all people, should know it was bad business to have a crappy parking lot for customers.
He grinned and shut off the engine. Man, he’d been trying to think of something to harass his friend with for the last three days and now he had one.
The building’s entrance beckoned, the wrought iron gates splayed open in the evening sun. Mark’s email inviting him to visit the club had arrived a few minutes after he’d told the man he was moving to Texas. They’d shared a dorm room at Harvard, and a few lovely ladies, too.
He hadn’t gotten a clear picture of what kind of club it was, but knowing Mark, he expected something decadent. A den of iniquity filled with naked patrons and wild women.
He pushed through the front door and looked around.
Huh.
The place was quiet. Silent as a hung jury.
Damn. The entrance could easily pass for a high class hotel or restaurant, richly colored carpet, dark wood paneling on the walls. And the wide, chest high concierge station fit right in with the ambiance. Maybe he’d taken a wrong turn.
Jason stopped, turned back to the first entrance and noticed a long hall to the left. Faint sounds of activity in the area had him moving in that direction. The beautiful blonde he found at the end of the hall made up for the lack of Mark’s presence.
“Can I help you?”
She was working behind the bar with two men and another woman and she didn’t look happy to see him.
“I’m looking for Mark Harrison.”
She gave him a once over and he didn’t like the conclusion her expression suggested. “I believe he’s in a meeting all morning. Can I help with whatever you need?”
The cool reception was a sign of good management on his buddy’s part. This was an employee who took care of the boss and the business.
“He should be expecting me.”
She lifted a handset on the bar and shot him a look. “Your name?”
“Jason Wortham.”
“Mildred, there’s a Jason Wortham here in the bar, says he has an appointment with Master Mark.”
“Tell Mildred I said hello,” he told the woman. Hell, he hadn’t seen Mark’s assistant in too many years to count.
The blonde’s expression didn’t change, her gaze never leaving his face as she asked, “Would that be Jason Wortham the third?”
Half a laugh erupted from his mouth at Mildred’s correction. “Please remind the dear lady that the formal version of my name is intended for formal occasions, and this isn’t one.”
The beauty in charge didn’t repeat his response to the sweet lady on the phone, but her expression evened out into a noncommittal smile. “Up the main staircase and take a left. It’s the third door on the right.”
“Thanks.” As he turned away, he heard her say, “Welcome to Private Delights.”