Subfrenzy (the Subfrenzied Series)

by Jane, Kimberlee

  SUBFRENZY:

  - the Subfrenzied Series: 1 -

  : Kimberlee Jane

  ©2013 Kimberlee Jane. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner or form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher -- except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for magazines, newspapers and Internet sites. The cover of this book may be shown on the Internet or in promoting the book elsewhere.

  Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The information contained in this book is not intended to serve as a replacement for professional advice. Any use of the information in this book is at the reader's discretion. The author and publisher specifically disclaim any and all liability arising directly or indirectly from the use or application of any information contained in this book.

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  Book Cover Design: Artem Merzlenko

  “All energy flows according to the whims of the great Magnet.

  What a fool I was to defy him.”

  - Hunter S. Thompson

  --- Dedicated To ---

  B.L

  S.K

  - Chapter 1 -

  ~ Ballad of Mona Lisa ~

  The retirement party was going to send me over the edge. I didn't blame Ben for finding an excuse not to attend. Benjamin Gibson, one of the top attorneys at our entertainment law firm, and my boss, hated attending social events almost more than I did.

  He had noticed how quickly I acclimated to the high-stress environment as an intern. A five-day trial basis was extended by two weeks before I accepted the P.A job and became his personal assistant. Loyalty, and a little bit of self-interest, were what helped me decide to attend a co-workers retirement party, on a Friday evening, while he worked in the blissful quiet of his office.

  'It's really crowded,' I text-messaged him. 'I don't think anyone's going to notice you're not here.'

  'Think I can get away with, 'I was there for ten minutes, etc. You don't remember?'''

  'Sure. Why not? Mention you liked the cake: triple layered, chocolate and vanilla, with a '20' candle on top.'

  'God help me. I'll be there soon,' he wrote back.

  'I'll buy you a drink.'

  After that, I'd be free to make my escape.

  Diane Arnold had devoted twenty years to serving our company's best interests. It would have been rude not to attend, though Ben hoped that by having me go, people would assume he was around somewhere. I kept an eye out, half-expecting to see him stride decisively through the door. His almond-brown eyes were usually fierce, and his dark Spaniard complexion made him appear even more intimidating. He had a broad upper body, thick arms and legs, though he knew how to manipulate his body language to appear less aggressive with clients. It was eerie, sometimes, watching him work.

  'On my way to retirement, not to Friday's. I'm going home to Marcie and the kids.'

  'Since you haven't left yet... about that raise you mentioned earlier?'

  'Joked about before I left for lunch, you mean?'

  'Since when do you make jokes? Were you really kidding?'

  'You bought the present I wanted for Diane?'

  'It's sitting prettily on the gift table. I put your name on the card. You forgot to sign it.'

  'Yes, you're getting the raise.'

  'Thanks very much, boss! I'll see you Monday.'

  A waitress paused at our table, holding two full trays of drinks. “Bud Light?”

  “That's me,” I accepted the chilled beer mug.

  'Thank you, Claire. Have a good weekend.'

  'You too. Thank you again.'

  The beer was barely bubbling and drinking a little proved that it tasted flat. But she was four tables down, no longer within hearing distance. Excusing myself, I made my way to the bar.

  “Hey there, Tom.”

  After sixteen years of friendship, I thought of him more as a brother than a best-friend. When he looked at me, his sky blue eyes were bright again instead of glazed over from boredom. His dark blond hair was pulled back, revealing a small, black, dragon tattoo on the right side of his neck. I slid the glass of beer across the counter.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, putting a sign on the tap. “Bottle instead?”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  “So, what're you up to later? I'm done at midnight, if you want to catch up on the shows we've missed. Unless you watched them without me.”

  “I haven't this time, I swear.” I smiled when he did. “I'll be there. Some unwinding after today would be good.”

  “I'll bet. I never see you here, with that crowd.”

  “I should get back before they realize I'm avoiding them.” I sighed, seeing how many more people from work had arrived. “We'll catch up later?”

  He grinned and gave me another beer. “I need to get back to work, anyway. My boss is here for another hour. Come back and talk to me when he's gone.”

  My shoulders ached, the tension rising toward the back of my neck while I walked back to the table. Benjamin had broken the speakerphone button, using it so often, so I had kept a phone held in the crook of my shoulder, writing or typing notes as clients talked. It had been a busy day. Some of the pain was eased away as I slowly leaned my head against the wall. When I slouched down, pressure from the back of my chair felt really good.

  “Feeling a little tipsy?” I smelled hair products and very flowery perfume. “You okay over there?”

  “I'm only on my second beer.” It took some effort, but I made myself sit up and look friendly. “Enjoying the party, Carrie?”

  The office gossip, Caroline Macy. We didn't cross paths often, but we were professionally friendly when it happened. Her perfume stuck in my throat when she waved her hand, an answer to my question.

  “I couldn't help noticing... That man over there keeps checking you out. He's probably going to come over here.”

  “The bartender?”

  “No, not Thomas. Three chairs down, in the really nice black suit...” The man she subtly pointed to had short, wavy black hair, casually styled instead of slicked back. He was a few inches taller than most of the men around him. Powerfully built, I felt interest take hold. His shoulders were wide, and I couldn't help noticing how broad his back was. We watched as the woman on his right drew him into conversation.

  “He's not coming over here,” I guessed.

  She leaned forward now and again to show him how large her breasts were. Her long, bright red hair brushed over his forearm. A few seconds later, he got up and she followed him out. I wished them luck.

  “I'm sorry, Clara.”

  “Why?”

  “I'm sorry for me then. I would have gone over. He's really sexy.”

  “That he is.”

  “Well? Update me. We haven't talked in a while.”

  “What's been new?” I shrugged. “When Ben's busy, so am I.”

  “He's a workaholic. You should put in for some vacation time, get away to a beach for the winter.”

  “Maybe during the summer, when the office is quiet.” Though it wouldn't be to the beach. I'd go somewhere cooler, to get away from the heat. “You know, I am a little tipsy. It makes me smoke more. Do you ever have that happen?”

  “No,” she said, sounding apologetic, “I quit and, oh
god, I spent a fortune in patches and the gum-”

  “Good willpower,” I gently cut her off before the statement became a story. “Tell me about that when I get back?”

  “You sure you're alright?”

  “Just fine. Thanks,” I edged my way toward the bar again.

  She looked mildly confused, yet she was already turning her attention back to the noisiest part of the table. So long as I hadn't offended her. Wasting a few minutes, I waited to see if Tom wanted a cigarette. I gave up when he was swamped with a new party of three.

  “Later,” he caught me at the end of the bar. “Catch me later?”

  “No problem. Come find me, I'll be around.”

  Cold gusts of wintery air were invigorating. The front door closed behind me and... it would be me, smoking with Mr. Black Suit and the redhead. Whoops. I moved to the far left and rummaged through my pockets, looking for a lighter.

  “What about sports?” the woman asked. Her voice was low and seductive, intended to make him lean in closer. He seemed to have really good hearing.

  His eyes made me double take. They were a pale blue, darker when he looked down to ash his cigarette. His hair wasn't black, I noticed when he stood under the light instead of next to it. It was dark brown, chestnut and coffee colored. I sighed quietly, focusing before I lit a cigarette with my last match. He was very attractive.

  “You must've played something in high-school, right?”

  “That depends on the year,” he replied shortly.

  “I knew it. Look at you. Well, silly? Start with your favorite year.”

  He wasn't a man I'd call 'silly.' At 5'11 in low heels, I was still a good few inches shorter than him. That rarely happened.

  “Hockey, soccer, I played football the longest, though.” Looking incredibly tolerant, he seemed taller suddenly, smoking slowly and more carefully. He braced his left arm against one of the square pillars that were attached to the building's low roof. “You aren't cold with only that wrap, shawl thing... I mean-”

  “Nope, I'm fine. You could always be a gentleman and give me your jacket.”

  “I could, yes,” he grinned at her. “You're fine, though, you said?”

  I immediately straightened at the first hint of pain. It prickled through the inside of my shoulder. Tension gathered and I held my breath, waiting, hoping, but... it wasn't going to go away. I had wasted time. Waves of threatening numbness rolled down my arm, my fingers twitching so I dropped my cigarette. Panic helped me half-shrug out of my jacket. Not fast enough. I felt muscles pull tight, then tighter than they should have. It rendered me incapable of moving, the pain burning when I tried to lower my shoulder.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I'm alright.”

  “Yes, you seem fine. Are you okay?”

  The pain numbed for a few seconds when I glanced up at the sharp tone. I saw concern, then that he was looking at me, neither of which I'd expected.

  “Yes,” I spoke while I still could. “Thank you, though.”

  “Something's wrong with your shoulder. What's happening?”

  “I'm really-” My jaw clenched against the brighter waves of pain. He took that for the permission it was, knowing why I couldn't continue.

  “So, Quinn-? Why don't we-”

  “May I? I've dealt with knots before.” He motioned her back. “Turn around. Never mind, don't turn around. Better if you don't move.”

  I didn't have time to say anything, do anything, and I went still when the pain was immediately soothed away. He slowly moved his hands down toward the outside of my shoulder, going back to make sure the tension hadn't returned. Quinn touched me more confidently once he felt how I'd melted against him. I felt how warm his hands were, how much strength was really in his arms. Clarity returned as the seconds ticked by. He applied more pressure, which made my shoulders brush over the upper part of his chest. His body wasn't bulky with muscle, but he definitely hadn't lied about being athletic. My eyes opened when his belt buckle dug into my back.

  He gently stopped me from moving away from him. “I can still feel it. Here?”

  I couldn't tell anymore. He used the inside of his hand to ease a knot from the lower side of my neck. His fingers were long enough to curl around to the other side of my throat. The palm of his hand covered all of my shoulder blade.

  “Does it still hurt?”

  “Not anymore,” I moved back to give them some space. It was mortifying, how quickly I'd let him take over. “Thank you so much.”

  “Hang on. Don't stretch backwards like that.” He lifted the side of my jacket and straightened the sleeve before I could. “Take it easy on your shoulder for the next day or two, alright?”

  “Can I buy you a drink or something?” I asked hesitantly. “That was really nice of you.”

  “That's okay.” When he leaned down to straighten the collar, I heard him whisper, “Really want to help?”

  How, I looked the question at him.

  As it had happened with Tom and Ben, and almost as immediately, Quinn and I clicked. Tom and I had become instant friends because of it. Ben had hired me. Quinn wasn't like Tom or Ben. I wanted him to touch me, though not for another massage.

  “Yes, actually, I do remember you,” he said, standing so his back wasn't to the redhead anymore. “We met at that business expo in A.C., not the concert.”

  “Of course, Quinn. I'm Clara. I think we got through at least that much small talk.” I ignored my paranoia. I'd never been to Atlantic City. “I'm flattered you remember.”

  “Yes, you left an impression. I was sorry we didn't get past the introductions.”

  “There was a lot going on, I-”

  “That's nice, old acquaintances. You seem good now, so...” she turned expectantly to Quinn.

  He offered me his lighter when I pulled out the empty pack of matches. “I've got another. Keep it in case you need one later.”

  The woman moved closer to put her hand on his arm. He looked down at her and I felt him become politely distant again. She pressed herself against his side, not-so-gently turning him toward her.

  “I am kinda cold.”

  “I'm going to have another cigarette. Feel free to go back inside, where it's warm-”

  “But we weren't done talking yet. Remember what I was asking you about before... her?” she dismissively gestured at me.

  “The ab thing? I can't invest with you right now. Everything I have is tied into the company.”

  “You remember my plan, right? Considering your cut when they hit the market, it's really nothing, because-”

  “Because I have nothing to invest,” he said, his eyes cold and hard.

  “Yeah,” she sighed, “sure. Whatever.”

  The air was heavy with her sarcasm. Until the door closed behind her.

  “Sorry about that.” He ran a hand through his hair. “She was... Thank you for going along with that.”

  “It was the least I could do.” I felt warmth emanating from him when he stood closer to me. “I'm Claire, Clara. I didn't make that part up.”

  “Quinn Emerson.” He had a strong handshake, though he didn't hurt my hand. I appreciated that, too.

  “That cramp locked your entire side. I felt how bad it was. You sure you're okay?”

  “Better than okay.” A party of six arrived and went into the bar. They left a few seconds later. I put my cigarette out and watched him do the same. The silence stretched. I couldn't help glancing back toward the doors.

  “Going back in?”

  “Yes. You?”

  “For a little while, yes.” He opened one of them for me.

  “It was nice meeting you, Quinn.” Moments went by as I walked past him, but I didn't hear what he said when the bar sounds roared around us again.

  When I glanced back, he was ordering a drink. Work mentality descended as I got closer to my place at the table. I didn't want to stay any longer. Diane wasn't swamped with people.

  “Congratulations,” I accepted
her automatic hug. “We're going to miss you around the office.”

  She was distracted as more people hedged in bearing cards and flower bouquets. They made a wonderful cover, and my place at the table would be much appreciated.

  “Night for now, Tom.”

  “Talk to me for a minute. Your group won't be able to see you over there. In that corner.” Quinn was sitting where he had pointed. There were two empty seats near him. “Why not see what happens?”

  “How do you know-?”

  “I was cleaning the bar. Saw you three, two, through the window,” he said. “He's definitely interested, if you were wondering.”

  “I'm not sure if I want to be interested in him.”

  “How long has it been since your last... anything? Three years? Four?”

  “I've been busy. Really busy. And it's only been two years, thank you very much.”

  He winced. “That's too long for me to think about.”

  “I'm not just looking to get laid, Tom.”

  “That's romantic. Good for you.”

  “I'm not exactly looking for that, either. This isn't the place to talk about it.” I sighed. “It's complicated.”

  “Maybe he likes complicated. Go get his number. That's simple.”

  “I've got ten minutes, maybe. More people are going to start leaving soon-”

  “'I'm late, I'm late-'he said, sounding like Alice's white rabbit. “Go.”

  “Jeez, you're domineering tonight. What's the-”

  “No wonder you're going.” He flashed me his sly grin. “I'm proud of you.”

  The familiarity I'd felt with Quinn didn't make me feel any less awkward. He had half a bottle of beer and his back was turned, sitting where he was at the bar. Sensing movement, he glanced over at me when I was a few feet away. His eyes warmed, and the bright lighting made me realize his eyes were light green, the blue in them so light it seemed gray.

  “Hello again. …Is anyone sitting there?”

  “You, if you want to,” he replied, moving the chair back for me. “Clara--? I don't believe I got your last name.”