Vice

by Rosanna Leo

  He gazed into Kate’s eyes. Sympathy shone there, clear as day. Not that he wanted her sympathy, but it felt good to unburden himself. There was no judgment in Kate’s eyes, no comments that she thought him a gullible fool. Just warmth, something he didn’t feel too often these days.

  The pastries sat untouched before them, and they both stared at the tray. Liam had ordered them because strawberries were Michelle’s favorite. Were they still? How the hell would he know? He suddenly felt like tossing them across the room.

  “Of course you can’t turn it off,” Kate said. “But you have to understand you’ll need to cut Michelle out of your life. For your own sanity.”

  “To hell with sanity. I’m not cutting her out of my life. I’ve got the best law firm in the business backing me. They’ll help me get Michelle back.”

  “But she’s not yours. You said it yourself, and Bridget seems remorseful.”

  “I don’t care. I was a part of her life for three years. Michelle is mine and her idiot sperm donor father isn’t standing in my way. They think I’ll walk away from her? I will never abandon her.” He knew what that was like. No way he’d do that to his little girl.

  “You wouldn’t be abandoning her. You’d be just…moving on.”

  He felt his blood pressure ratchet up a notch. “I have no wish to ‘move on.’”

  “I don’t know if that’s helping the situation. It sounds, well, controlling.”

  “Since when is being in control a bad thing?”

  “There’s a difference between in control and being controlling.”

  “I don’t care. If that makes me a sore loser, so be it.”

  “But Liam, this battle is poisonous. It’ll hurt Michelle in the long run, and it’ll devastate everyone else involved.” Her soft voice sounded more logical than his own conscience had ever been. “I know it must hurt to turn away, but don’t you think it’s best?”

  Frustration sizzled like acid in his gut and he directed his annoyance squarely at Kate. “You don’t understand. I don’t care if the legal battle kills me. I just want what’s best for her. I can give her a better life than they can. I don’t want her to grow up and wonder why I left. Can’t you see that?”

  “Oh, Liam. This is not right. You have to end this, for your own sake. You have to let her go. I know it will hurt, but if you don’t hit rock bottom, you won’t move forward.”

  “I won’t lose my daughter!”

  “She’s not your daughter!”

  Their raised voices echoed throughout the room, but the ensuing silence felt louder.

  “Who asked you?” he said quietly, but with vehemence. “I think you should go.”

  “I think so too.” Still looking concerned, she stood and gathered her purse. Plain, sensible, just like her. Well, he was tired of being sensible. Sensible had lost him everything.

  Without another word, she headed to the elevator and pushed the button. She slipped inside, then turned to face him, as if wanting to say something.

  He watched as the door closed on Kate. And then, finally giving into his anger, he gathered up the tray of pastries and hurled them at the wall.

  As he watched the trail of expensive strawberry chunks slide down the wall, he felt his chest rise and fall with a few shaky breaths. He’d lost his cool, and all because a stranger called him out for ignoring the pitiful truth in his life. He had no daughter. He might as well have been Michelle’s former babysitter. He had no claim to her.

  Kate Callender had seen right through him. Unimpressed by his wealth and influence, she’d seen him for the mess he truly was.

  He’d resented her for her insight.

  Now, feeling just as sick for the way he treated her, Liam turned away from the sticky berry muck. What was he supposed to do? Apologize for jumping down Kate’s throat? No, he didn’t owe her any explanations, certainly not regarding his personal life. He’d worked hard to keep his relationships out of the papers, and just as hard to keep photographers away from Michelle. Kate had no right to question him.

  If anything, she’d done him a favor. Now he truly saw her for the busybody she was. In fact, next time she so much as put a foot on his property, he would throw her over his shoulder and remove her himself.

  Consoled by this steely determination, he didn’t walk over to the window to see if Kate had left yet, even though a frustrating part of him remained curious. Rather, he grabbed a wet cloth from his kitchen and began to clean the mess. He could have called housekeeping, but didn’t want to explain why he had fruit and whipped cream on his wall. Not that he made a habit of explaining his messes.

  Once he’d finished, he planted himself at his desk, and returned a dozen work related calls. All the while doing his best to forget a particular pair of reproving, yet sympathetic, hazel eyes.

  After having pulled a late night at Vice, sleeping in his casino office, Liam arose for an early start. He’d taken time to sit in on some auditions by a couple of acts hoping for a spot at the casino’s piano bar Decadence. He had managers on staff who were responsible for booking talent, but when it came to hiring new acts, he liked being in the thick of things. After all, every artist under his roof was a representation of him and of his casinos. He wanted to know each act on his payroll would do him justice.

  And it was a good thing too. His bar manager had wanted to hire one of the acts, but Liam had found the woman’s Judy Garland act cheesy. In fact, he’d vetoed all the acts. His manager had turned to him afterward, his face lined with frustration.

  Too bad. His club, his rules.

  Thank Christ he had insisted on his office being such a homey environment. With the sort of work he did, he often pulled these kind of all-nighters. There were days he didn’t leave his casinos at all. At times like this, he might not see his condo for a week. It helped him keep his mind off his former family life. As he got settled at his desk, he rolled his shoulders and tried to stretch out the nagging pull of sore muscles.

  He’d dreamed of her last night, of Kate. Had dreamed of finger-combing her fiery mane of hair, right before he drove into her tight heat.

  Fuck.

  He stretched out his arms and cracked his knuckles in a feeble attempt to banish the red-headed demon from his visions. But in the end he gave into nagging temptation and wandered over to the window that faced the entrance.

  No picket line. No Kate.

  Okay. This should be no problem. He was bigger than this…this cock-driven moment of feeblemindedness.

  As he attended his meetings that day, he ignored the burn in his stomach. When he once again looked back out the same window hours later, he congratulated himself on finally being rid of the pesky protestor.

  Late that afternoon, as he drafted a few emails with his assistant Pearl, he stood as far away as possible from the window.

  “Liam?” she prodded. “How do you want to respond to the email about the building permit for the old works building?”

  Pearl’s voice barely cut through his consciousness and he didn’t think to answer her.

  “Liam?”

  He snapped out of his funk for a second. “Which email?”

  “The one I sent you yesterday.”

  Damn. He’d barely looked at it. “Just…tell him I want a definitive answer. We’ve wasted enough time on this issue.”

  Despite his strong words, he knew his tone came out quiet and distracted, and not in a good way. He knew this shit with the building permit office could have been resolved sooner if he’d pushed it more. He should have pushed it more. He wanted to start working on his next property.

  Didn’t he?

  For some reason, he just wasn’t excited about the new project. His enthusiasm for building had waned, truth be told. Was he losing his fire, his drive?

  Or was his fire simply smoking in another direction?

  Pearl, a ki
nd-hearted older woman, approached him from the side and put a hand on his sleeve. “Are you okay, Liam?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Nando Perreira left two messages this morning.”

  “I know.”

  She gave his arm a rub, but he gently pulled away. Professional to a fault, Pearl didn’t usually allow her inner nurturer to manifest, but when it did, it made him uncomfortable. He hadn’t had much mothering growing up and still didn’t quite know what to do with it.

  His stepmom Shauna had guaranteed that. She’d made sure he never understood what it felt like to have the support of a good woman in his life. She was most likely the reason he’d fouled up every relationship he’d had. She’d turned him into an unforgiving bastard who hated to lose, who had to be in control, and every time something shitty happened to him, he heard her voice.

  You’re not my son. I’ll never think of you as my son. You mean nothing to me.

  Squeezing those memories out of his brain, he looked at Pearl. He took in the sympathetic slant of her eyes, knowing she felt the same way Kate did, that he should just let Michelle go. He’d shared the details of his custody suit with Pearl some time ago, and she’d also stated, albeit more diplomatically than Kate, that he should relinquish his claim.

  Why was he the only one who seemed to understand he wanted to do right by the little girl?

  Kate’s voice sounded in his head. She’s not your daughter.

  He recognized the truth in her statement, and his heart broke. All his success wouldn’t take this sort of hurt away either. It was the sort of pain that traditionally one could only forget with the help of copious amounts of alcohol. And even then the effect was temporary.

  Pearl took a deep breath and gathered up her things. “I’ll let you know when I hear about the permit.”

  He nodded in acknowledgment. “Thanks, Pearl.”

  His work day finished, he once again looked out the window overlooking the entrance.

  No Kate.

  By now, even Wade was on the lookout for her. He’d asked about her a couple of times already. The security guard stood sentinel outside, craning his neck, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of her on the Strip. In just a few days they’d both gotten used to her being there and felt her absence, despite the fact she’d like nothing more than to see Vice burn to the ground. It should be funny.

  So why wasn’t he laughing?

  Temples throbbing, Liam left his office and hit the executive gym, determined to pound Kate’s memory out of his head. It did no good. As much as he tore up the treadmill, he couldn’t run away from her face. It seemed to follow him everywhere these days.

  Feeling defeated for reasons he barely understood, he headed back to his suite. Eager to escape the working world for a few hours, he spent the night on his couch, indulging in a marathon of The Walking Dead.

  But even the zombie apocalypse couldn’t dislodge the remembrance of red locks pulled back in a tight ponytail, or of the disappointment in her eyes.

  Maybe they needed some more face time. Maybe he needed to explain.

  But Kate was a no-show the next day as well. And the next, and the next. A week went by without Liam glimpsing her or her placard from the fourth floor.

  The sore loser in him wanted a redo of their conversations. The sore loser in him wanted her back so he could erase her disappointment in him with a long, slow kiss. The sore loser in him needed to give her the most rollicking orgasm of her life, and drive her as crazy as she’d driven him.

  He had to find her.

  “I swear, I don’t know whether to hug Darren or to hit him.” The background hum in the room seemed to pause for a moment. “Kate? Are you in there?”

  Her head snapped up. Damn! She’d lost focus. She’d never done that in group before, but it seemed she could barely concentrate the past few days. “I’m sorry, Audrey. I’m a little distracted. What were you saying?”

  Audrey grinned and picked up a chocolate-chip cookie. “It’s okay. I get it. Sometimes I want to tune out, too.”

  Kate felt the burn of guilt fester in the pit of her stomach. At least, group hadn’t started yet and she and Audrey had just been having a one-on-one conversation. It would have been embarrassing to lose focus during the session. Some leader she was.

  And it was all Liam Doyle’s fault. Because of his personal situation, because of his anger toward her for telling him the truth, she hadn’t been able to think of much else. Clearly she’d become deranged. How else could she explain why she should be so affected by someone she didn’t even like or respect, or even know for that matter? Unless there was a part of her that wanted to know him better…

  “Oh, crap.”

  “Come again?”

  Kate fumbled for a response. “It’s nothing.” Feeling hot in the face, she motioned to the others in the group. “Hey, everyone. It’s time to get started.”

  Before she could say anything, Rod piped up. “So why did we stop picketing Vice? I thought we’d made a real impact on some of those visitors last time.”

  “Yeah. Why the ceasefire, fearless leader?” asked Patti.

  All heads turned toward Kate. “Um. I’ve been thinking about it, and I just don’t know if it’s the most effective course of action.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Rod. “Even Liam Doyle noticed you. You spoke with the man. We need to keep up our momentum.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “No buts, Kate,” pressed Rod. “This is important. Why the backpedaling? It’s not like you.”

  She stared at him, completely at a loss. She had no logical answer, only feelings running rampant in her core. She felt sorry for Liam Doyle. There, she’d acknowledged it to herself. He was going through a personal hell, and she supposed she just didn’t want to rub salt in the wound.

  So maybe it made her look like a weakling, but she hadn’t been able to step foot near Vice all week. In fact, she’d avoided the Strip altogether, spending her evenings with Lisa and the kids instead.

  Somehow, her badass side had shriveled up and died. Oh well, it wasn’t a mantle she wore easily. Besides, she felt like a hypocrite. She’d deposited another hundred dollars into her dad’s account again today, even though it was royalty money she couldn’t afford to lose.

  Before she could respond to Rod, she heard a knock on the door of the meeting room. Being closest to the door, Rod got up and opened it, sticking his head out. He pulled it back in and turned around. “Kate, there’s a man here asking for you.”

  Her pulse jumped and skittered. Liam? Oh, Christ. Don’t be so silly. What did she expect? That he’d pull up in a pumpkin carriage, offering her glass footwear?

  She got up and went to the door. She stepped outside, moving her legs in small, tentative motions. Her movements came to an abrupt stop when she saw who stood in the hallway. Her breath came to a stop as well.

  She must have paled because Rod touched her arm. “Hey, you okay? Do you want me to stay with you?”

  She forced down the lump in her throat. “No, thanks. But could you take over the group for a bit?”

  He looked at her and her visitor. “Okay. But if you need me, just knock.” He disappeared into the meeting room and shut the door behind him.

  Louis Callender extended his arms and smiled. “My Katie. It’s been a long time.”

  She avoided her father’s touch and stepped back, not wanting to be anywhere close to him. “What do you want, Dad?”

  The corners of his mouth fell down and he let his arms drop. Anyone who didn’t know him well would think he was devastated by her cold demeanor. She didn’t care. Her father was many things, first and foremost a consummate actor. He had to be in order to swindle everyone he knew. “Why do you assume I want something, Katie-bug?”

  “Don’t call me that,” she snapped, fighting her swelling anger. “And I know
you want something because it’s the only time you ever show your face. How did you find me anyway?”

  He looked around the New Horizons hallway with a hint of contempt, as if he were standing in the middle of his own intervention. “You’re always here. Does it actually do you any good?”

  “More than you ever did.”

  He ran a hand through his still-thick, auburn hair. She had to hand it to her dad. He certainly looked the part of a con man. Despite his age, he appeared ten years younger. He’d been blessed with terrific genes. The crinkly eyes and handsome face no doubt served him well when he looked for wealthy girlfriends to finance his habits. “I can’t believe my only daughter would talk to me like that. Didn’t I raise you better?”

  “You didn’t raise me at all. Now what do you want?”

  He stared at her for a long time, assessing her mood, planning his attack like a military tactician. “It hurts me that we can’t get along, sweetheart.”

  “It’s hard to get along with someone who only shows up every couple of years begging for handouts.”

  “Katie…”

  “Are you here to seek help for your addiction?”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m some sort of crack head. I don’t need help.” He paced the hall for a couple of tense moments. “Look, I made some mistakes. I borrowed some money from some very bad people recently.”

  “And this affects me how?”

  “They want their money, sweetheart. These are men who won’t take no for an answer. I just need a small loan.” Tears filled his eyes. God, he could summon them so easily. “I’m scared, Katie. I need your help.”

  “I can’t believe this.” She put a hand over her dry mouth. “Actually, I do believe this.”

  “You don’t wanna see anything bad happen to your old man, do you? I just need five grand, Katie-bug. That’s all. And then I promise you, I’ll start attending those meetings. I’ll get help. You have my word.”