Dirty Deeds

by Lauren Landish

  I pull out Jake’s wallet and show it to her. “I accidentally took his wallet in my rush to get out of there.”

  Jake

  “Jake!” I faintly hear a muffled voice urgently yell from what seems a million miles away. Something hits me in the face, and I mumble something. The voice speaks up again, this time closer. “Jake, wake up.”

  I let out a groan, my head pounding like that time I decided to do keg stands in college and lost my balance, hitting my head on the way down. I feel someone shaking me violently, but it's a chore to open my eyes.

  “Jake, what happened?” the voice says, and I can finally identify who it is. That Bronx accent is pretty much unmistakable.

  Still, even if I recognize Nathan’s voice, it's a struggle to open my eyes. I finally force them open, but when I do, all I see is a blur.

  “Fuck,” I groan. “You get the number on that truck?”

  “Jake, you’re fucking smashed, man,” Nathan says, and I swallow thickly, my mouth feeling both swollen and somehow dry at the same time. “Damn, I haven’t seen you like this before.”

  I feel like my chest has been cast in concrete and like my limbs are weighed down by stone. I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to focus, but it takes several moments for me to see Nathan clearly. He’s standing over me, staring at me with disbelief, concern, and yeah, a little amusement.

  “Where is she?” I mumble, my words sounding like a jumbled mess. I'm trying to get my bearings, remember what’s going on. Some things are a little hazy, but her . . . I can’t forget her. Her lush body in my hands, those sweet lips . . . fuck.

  Nathan frowns. “Huh? I don't understand you.”

  I realize I'm not going to get anywhere for at least several minutes with the brain fog that is filling my mind. “Water,” I rasp, trying to imitate drinking motions. “Get me some water.”

  Nathan looks like he’s about to make a wiseass comment but instead goes to the corner of the room and grabs a water out of the small refrigerator, bringing it over to me. I'm barely able to take it from his hands, but he plucks it out of my weakened fingers and opens it for me. Taking it, I chug some, the water churning in my stomach, but at least I’ve got something to focus on besides the jackhammer between my ears.

  “Damn, dude,” Nathan continues, “What the hell is going on? You disappear and now I find you back here passed out, looking fucked up as all hell. How much did you drink?”

  “Not drunk,” I say slowly, focusing on every syllable to make sure I’m understood. I remember throwing back that one beer, my second drink for the night. The champagne was the other, and it was a half glass.

  “Not drunk?” Nathan demands, his face twisted in confusion. “Jake, you know damn well we can’t be having drugs in . . .”

  “Drugged,” I say, not knowing if I’m thinking clearly enough. That had to be it. The beer. It had to be. It just doesn’t make sense any other way.

  Nathan looks shocked. “What?”

  “I was drugged,” I manage in a froglike croak. “I don’t know how or why, but someone spiked my drink.”

  “It was that fucking tramp I ran into on the way here!” Nathan half yells, jumping to his own conclusion. “I knew there was something fishy about that broad being back here!”

  “Roxy?” I ask, remembering her flirty dimple-filled smile. I don’t consider myself naive, but I don’t think my angel is responsible.

  “That’s her name?” Nathan snarls, turning away. “I’m gonna go out there, find her, and call the cops . . .”

  I hold out my hand and tried to stand, but I collapse back onto the bed, my head pounding. “Wait!”

  Nathan turns back, scowling.

  I shake my head weakly. “Don’t call,” I rasp. “Seriously.”

  “Why the fuck not? If we let this type of shit happen, we’re going to be finished.”

  “You’re usually more levelheaded than this. Think about it. I’m the one fucked up and I’m thinking more clearly. If you call the cops, that’s all everyone’s going to be talking about. We don’t need the negative press. Let’s just look at the security tapes and figure out what to do.”

  The rage flees his face and his shoulders relax. “Shit, you’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”

  I nod. “And there’s no need to call the ambulance. I just need a little time and some fluids. I can already feel the effects wearing off a little bit.”

  Nathan runs his fingers through his hair. “What were you thinking, bringing her back here . . .” His voice trails off as if he suddenly seems to notice that I’m sitting on the bed. “Shit, did you at least hit it?”

  I shake my head. “Was about to.”

  “Man, what the fuck? All your talk about being on the straight and narrow, but you're bringing sluts to the back room on our grand opening night—”

  “She’s not a slut,” I cut in.

  “Really? Then what the fuck is she?” Nathan asks.

  Nathan shakes his head when I can’t answer. “She probably robbed your ass blind.”

  I pat my pockets and realize my wallet is missing. “Fuck me!”

  Nathan is staring at me incredulously. “See? What did I tell you? Why else would she drug you if not to rob your ass!”

  Anger tightens my stomach. Fuck, how could I be so stupid? “I’ll call and cancel all my cards. She won't be able to get shit off them. Listen, my head can’t take much more of this shit right now. Leave me be for a bit and go check the tapes.”

  I’m glad when Nathan leaves without an argument, and I can’t help but see Roxy in my mind. That sweet, angelic smile and her irresistible laugh.

  But no matter how hard I try to reason things, the fact of the matter is that my wallet is gone. Which leaves me with only one explanation.

  My little angel is a thief.

  “Roll the footage,” Nathan orders Andre, our head security guy.

  I’d sat in the bedroom for twenty minutes, trying to gather myself before Nathan came back and helped me through the back to the security room. I can stand on my own, but the world’s still spinning a little, and I know I probably sound drunk as hell. Still, I’ve got my wits about me, more or less.

  “That’s her!” I half-slur, pointing as I get up. I grab the edge of the desk as a wave of dizziness washes over me. On the video, Roxy is approached by some guy, and I recognize him. He was there when I approached her. He orders her a beer, and she never touches it, but when she looks away, you can see as clear as day that he slips something in the bottle.

  “Son of a bitch,” Nathan breathes. “That bastard slipped something in her drink!”

  I grab the edge of the security desk in a white-knuckled grip, my lip curling as I stare at the image on the screen, searing the man’s face into my memory. If I ever see him again, he’s going to get a beating. “Find him.”

  Andre clears his throat. “I’ll get on the radio to the floor guys, and I’ll keep checking footage here. Trust me, if that asshole shows up again, he’s gonna catch a beatdown.”

  “Okay, maybe I was wrong about the girl,” Nathan admits as we leave. I’m angry and would love nothing more than to go track this guy down, but the drug’s effect is too strong for me. “But it still doesn’t explain the wallet.”

  “I’m going to go with it was an accident.” It’s the only alternative to she stole it and the one I want to believe most. Even an angel makes mistakes.

  “Either way, we got a huge problem on our hands if this motherfucker is going around doin’ this shit. We have to catch him. I just don't know if we should call the police now or after we catch him,” Nathan says while I recover. “This type of shit is bad for business.”

  “No cops for now,” I half growl, pissed off. “I want to teach this guy a lesson first.”

  Roxy

  “You can’t be serious! You’re not going back there!” Hannah says, pacing the floor of our apartment. Moonlight is shining in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, and even in this state, I have to admit that the v
iew is the thing I like most about the place. Hannah is wearing Barney pajamas, of all things, and has put her hair into pigtails. I swear she looks like a big-eyed Angelica from the kids’ cartoon Rugrats.

  Our grumpy looking cat, Mr. Felix, an orange and white Persian who adopted us when we were seniors in college, lazily watches her pace the room from his perch on the couch. I’m sure to him, his only concern about all of this is whether he’s going to have to get strict when it comes time for his humans to put out his food in the morning.

  “Why not?” I demand. “I have his wallet. He’s gonna think I stole it.”

  Hannah stops to scowl at me. “Honey, by now, he already thinks you stole it! Because, well, you did.”

  “I did not!” I protest. “I just didn’t realize I’d stuffed it in my purse in my panic to leave.”

  Her words sink in, and I feel a feeling of despair creep through me. “There must be something I can do. I can’t keep his wallet. The longer I have it, the guiltier I’ll look.”

  Hannah nods. “There is. Just go by Monday and turn it in to the club. Or better yet, mail it to the guy. You have his address, assuming his driver’s license is up to date.”

  “Wait,” I say. “Let me look him up.” I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Taking out his wallet, I pull out his license and see that it’s out of state, which makes me worry. But I have his full name, and I type it into Google on my phone.

  The first headline makes my eyes go wide, and I jump so hard I nearly drop the phone. Corporate Executive And Stock Wizard Opens Club Jasmine. I click the link and see that most of it is a PR piece that was published just yesterday. My heart hammers in my chest as I read about how the two friends came together to open up Club Jasmine and how they wanted to make a new type of nightclub for the city. But the photo catches my attention more. It’s the same face, the same piercing eyes that captured me earlier tonight. He’s standing in the picture with the same guy who accosted me in the hallway.

  “Oh, my God, he owns the club with his friend. That’s the same guy I saw in the hallway.”

  “Let me see.” Hannah grabs the phone. “Shit, you weren’t lying. Mr. Jake Stone is sexy as hell. He’s got those looks and money. Life ain’t fair.”

  “Yeah, not fair that he passed out before I could ride him to heaven and back,” I complain.

  Hannah stares at the article for a little more, then hands my phone back to me. “That pretty much seals it. You’re not going back there. There’s no way they’d believe your story. You’ll just be some gold digger in their eyes.”

  “Hey!” I protest, hurt. “I’m not a gold digging skank!” She’s right, though, and I feel horrible. I wish there were something I could do. But now I’m too afraid.

  Not to mention my body is all sorts of mixed up with my hormones going in so many different directions that I can’t focus at all. I’m horny, scared, angry, and even a little bit hungry. “I can’t believe I was about to sleep with the owner of the club,” I say to myself. “Why did he pretend like he wasn’t some big shot?”

  “Who knows? Don’t worry, chica,” Hannah says, coming over to wrap an arm around me in a sweet embrace. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

  Right then, my phone buzzes and I glance down. Tears come to my eyes as I feel a tug in my heart. “It’s Mindy,” I say. “Not sure why she’s calling this late.”

  “My cue to go to bed then,” Hannah says, delivering a kiss to my forehead before getting up. “Answer it and tell her all about the night. Considering how crazy you both are, I bet she has a story to one-up you. Just save some of the Cherry Garcia for me. I know how you get when you start talking with your sister.”

  Hannah goes to leave, but before she can totally leave, I call out. “Hannah?”

  She turns around, her hand on the door jamb to her bedroom. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for being here for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Probably actually end up killing guys to get your needs met,” Hannah says. “And you’d probably have the freezer stocked with those dick-shaped popsicles that have sweet cream filling.”

  I scowl, my lip curling. “That’s disgusting.”

  “Just joking!” Hannah says, trying to smirk before sticking out her tongue. When that doesn’t work, she sighs melodramatically. “Enjoy your talk with Mindy. Goodnight.”

  Hannah disappears into her bedroom area, and for a split second I debate on answering the phone. But when I think about how long it’s been since I last talked to her, I press the button.

  “Hi, Mindy!” I answer as I would any other time.

  “Hey, Roxy! How's it going?” My sister's voice comes through the phone cheery and upbeat.

  I don’t want to rain on her parade, and I don’t want to get her worried. “Great. How’s things for you and the fam?”

  “Really? That’s good. I didn’t know if you’d still be up. I know you're wondering why I’m calling this late, but I finally got some downtime from handling Leah and thought I'd call you and leave you a voicemail.”

  I smile, thinking about Leah. The spitting image of Mindy if you shrank her down and made her chubbier and cute, she’s the darling of everyone in the family. And with a new generation of women in the family, Grandma finally feels like she’s accomplished nearly everything that a woman could ask for. She’s cute as a button, and if she’s anything like her mother or her aunt, Mindy’s going to have her hands full.

  “How's my favorite little niece doing?” I ask. “Still wrapping every man she meets around her little finger?”

  “Of course. She’s starting to talk more, and I’m trying to take her out so she can make friends with other kids her age,” Mindy says. “It's crazy keeping up with them.”

  “That's wonderful. I wish I could see her.” That's one of the things I regret about living far away from family. I have missed out on the important moments.

  “I wish so too,” Mindy says wistfully. “You know, Oliver asks about you all the time. I think he thinks of you as our good luck charm, or maybe the sister he never had.”

  I hold my tongue because she’s right. I feel like I somehow, in a weird, fucked up way, had a hand in getting them together. And some of my favorite memories of the past few years have been with Mindy and Oli. “How's work?” Mindy asks.

  “Stressful,” I admit. “I work an insane number of hours, but I’m still learning and it’s getting easier. I’m getting a promotion, though.”

  “You are? That's wonderful!” Mindy says earnestly. “I knew you could do it. Are you excited?”

  “I am,” I say halfheartedly. “I start Monday.”

  Mindy’s quiet for a moment, and when she speaks again, her voice is soft, worried. “Is everything all right, Roxy?”

  “I’m fine,” I say. “Just tired.”

  “Don't lie to me. I can hear it in your voice,” Mindy says. “Spill it.”

  For a moment, I debate on telling her the truth. It’s not that I think she’d judge me, but maybe it’s just a little too soon.

  “Come on, Roxy,” Mindy presses. “I'm not going to give up until you tell me. If I have to, I’ll fly Oliver out there to start poking around, and you know how he is!”

  I let out a sigh. “Fine. As long as you promise not to laugh. I’m sure I’ll think it’s funny later on, but it scared me shitless.”

  “Deal. I’d pinky swear, but this is the phone.”

  Smiling at the old joke a little, I tell her everything about the creep and Mr. Heartstopper.

  “Holy shit, that's crazy!” Mindy says when I’m done. “I bet that creeper tried to spike your drink!”

  “He . . . holy shit, you’re right!” I say, impressed that Mindy thought of it. I should have thought of it too, honestly. “Still, I feel like hell. I shouldn’t have even gone, but gawd, babe, it’s been so hard. I haven’t had a lot of time for myself, and I just wanted this one night to relax, release, and have fun.” A lump forms in my throat as th
e words leave my lips. “I miss being the Roxy who sang her ass off for you.”

  Sympathy flows in Mindy’s voice. “Oh, baby, don't be so hard on yourself. I know how you feel. I went through the same thing working at Beangal’s. God, I was so burned out, and that was a place that was literally bought just for me to run. So I totally understand. There was nothing wrong with your going out to relax.”

  The tears threaten to flow from my eyes. “Mindy . . .”

  “You know what? I think it's time for a visit,” Mindy adds. “You got a bestie, I know that, but nobody can get you back to normal like me.”

  “I don't know . . .” I begin, but Mindy laughs.

  “I mean for us to come visit you. We might have some sister time to remind you who the real baddest bitch in the family is, but this would be for the whole family. I want to see how you're living, you can have some baby time, and hell, I’ll even let your roomie drool all over Oliver for a few.”

  It would be nice to see my family again. I need to see my new niece and nephew. “When would that be?”

  “Not sure with the business and all,” Mindy says with a smirk in her voice. “And I think I’ll let it be a surprise anyway.”

  “After tonight, I don’t think I can deal with too many surprises,” I admit, and Mindy chuckles. “I’m serious, Min.”

  “I know, babe, I know. I was just yanking your leg. Listen, let me check the schedule and I’ll get back with you. We’ll probably be there within a month. How’s that sound?”

  “Good,” I admit. “I can hang on until then.”

  There’s a silence, and Mindy speaks again. “What about singing, Roxy? I mean, you always felt better when you had a mic in your hand and were belting out something.”

  “I guess . . . it’s hard, Min. I mean, what’s the point? I wasted a lot of my time on that as it is.”

  “I didn’t say make it a career,” Mindy says gently. “I said sing. Sing for you, sing for your heart. Hell, just go to some karaoke bar and sing for the crowd there.”

  “Maybe,” I admit, thinking about it. She has a point. Maybe I just need to do it for fun. “We’ll see.”