Bad Boy Next Door

by Leigh, Mara

  “I agree,” Keagan said from the sofa. “We’ve got more important things to discuss. Like next Saturday night.”

  “About that,” I said. “I’m definitely out.”

  Shane came out of the bathroom. My mood deflated. I was not ready to forgive and forget the ketchup and mayo art. Not yet.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Nick’s out,” Mac answered.

  “No.” Shane strode toward me. “Nicky—”

  “Don’t you ‘Nicky’ me.” I jabbed my beer toward him.

  Clearly sniffing anger, he stopped short.

  “And don’t try to lay a guilt trip on me,” I said. “Not after what you did.”

  “So now you’re an art critic?” Shane smirked.

  Shaking my head, I turned away and scooped a slice of lasagna from the tray on Keagan’s table. Setting my beer down, I tucked into the food, refusing to take Shane’s bait.

  Now that I was eating Jade’s cooking so often, this frozen lasagna from Salvatore’s wasn’t up to my newly high standards. I sliced off a hunk of sourdough to sop up some of the sauce.

  “Hey.” Keagan stepped up beside me. “You know we were just joking around, right? I was just about to untie you when she walked in.”

  I stuffed a huge chunk of lasagna into my mouth so I wouldn’t have to answer. Keagan and Shane had threatened blackmail—not exactly a joke—although I knew my brothers would never do anything to really hurt me.

  Keagan put his hand across my shoulders. Second in height to me, he was the only brother who could do that without straining.

  “Listen, Nicky. I get that you want out, but we could really use you on this one. It’s a five-man job, plus with you on the team we won’t need to go in hot.”

  I studied my oldest brother’s face as I swallowed. “You’re not bringing guns.” The Downeys rarely used guns. Never got involved in any jobs that might need them. Sure, it meant we’d passed up dozens of great opportunities over the years, but it had kept us alive and had shortened Shane’s jail sentence. It was one rule I’d never thought I’d see Keagan break. Shane, yes, Keagan, no.

  Keagan shrugged as if it was out of his hands and into mine.

  “Don’t put that on me.” I set my plate down. “This whole thing sounds dangerous. Did right from the start. Come on, Keag, you’re too smart to go ahead with a job of Shane’s.”

  He frowned. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You think I’d do this if I hadn’t checked out Shane’s info, fleshed out a good plan?”

  “If you did such a great job of planning, you should have made it for four. I’m out.”

  He leaned onto the table. “You keep saying that, Nick, but you always come through. Loyalty first, right?”

  I tried to ignore the guilt his words unearthed. “I’m done. For real. I promised.”

  “Promised who?” Shane stepped over. “That piece of ass?”

  I nearly launched myself over the table, but Keagan put his hand on my arm.

  “Don’t talk about her like that.” I glared at Shane.

  He raised his hands in surrender. “You saying you love her or something?” He looked over at Keagan, laughing.

  “Oh, shit.” Mac whistled on an exhale. “He does love her. Holy crap. Nicky, is she, like, going to be our sister or something?”

  I drained the rest of my beer, hoping to hide the flush heating my cheeks. Jade and I were not at the getting engaged stage, but shit—that’s exactly what I saw happening between us someday. Married, together forever, kids if she wanted them—I hoped she wanted them—maybe a dog, grandkids down the road…

  “Well, congratulations!” Mac came around the table and clapped my back. “Who’d a thought the youngest Downey would be the first hitched?”

  “We’re not engaged!” I took a deep breath. “Please don’t say that around Jade, okay?” We hadn’t even come close to talking about it. “We’ve only known each other a month.” And for a chunk of that, she hadn’t been talking to me.

  “Okay, I promise.” Mac made the sign of the cross, then raised his eyebrows, his smile contagious. “But sounds like that’s where you’re headed?”

  I shrugged, shaking my head. “I dunno. Someday.” If she’d have me.

  “So you’re choosing a girl over your brothers.” Shane’s tone was filled with anger—his eyes, too.

  “Yeah,” I said, tired of this debate. “I guess I am.” I tossed my half-eaten plate of lasagna onto the counter and then headed out the door. I did not want to get into this loyalty thing with my brothers. Yes, I owed them. But did that need to dictate the rest of my life?

  I’d accused Jade of asking me to pick between her and my brothers, and now they were questioning my loyalty… That one-two punch was raining shit on my happiness.

  I needed to focus on something else. Jade and Melodie were antique hunting at a flea market in San Jose, so I decided to head in for my afternoon shift an hour early, see if I could reason with Stan.

  On the way to the club, my anger woke. It wasn’t the first time Stan had fired dancers or waitresses over something a customer had done, something completely out of the woman’s control. It had always bothered me, but I worked at a strip club owned by criminals, and the place was full of misogyny and injustices.

  I’d mostly turned a blind eye, telling myself that getting paid and keeping the girls safe were enough, but now it had happened to Jade…

  My wake-up call had come late. I should have defended Francesca when she’d kneed that creep after he’d grabbed her tits when she came off stage. And what was her name back in February? Monica? Mona? Didn’t matter. She’d been fired when a customer ground his erection against her pussy. He’d been clothed, but she’d been in a G-string. Asshole. And she got fired.

  Seeing Jade so rattled coming down those stairs had boiled my guts. She was proud, a hard worker, and being unfairly fired had shaken my baby. She’d been right to stop me from going up there so angry, but it was time to set Stan straight.

  I marched up the stairs to his office and knocked on his door.

  When I entered, an older woman was sitting on the shitty leather couch Stan used to sexually harass the staff, no doubt. Stan was behind his desk.

  “You’re in a meeting?” I asked him. “Should I come back?”

  “It’s fine.” He beckoned. “This is the guy I was telling you about.”

  The woman nodded, then went back to reading something on her phone. Her heavily made-up face gleamed in the glow of her phone.

  “This about Jade?” Stan’s eyes narrowed and he put his hand under his desk where I knew he kept his gun. “She’s lying. I didn’t lay a hand on her.”

  “You better not have.” I stood behind the folding chairs that faced his desk. If Stan had touched her, she’d have told me. Right? No way would Jade put up with that shit.

  He visibly relaxed and moved his hand to the top of the desk. “What’s up?”

  “Give Jade her job back.”

  Stan sneered. “No fucking way.”

  I grabbed the back of one of the chairs. “It’s really shitty how you fire the girls for things that aren’t their fault.”

  “Is that right.” Stan glanced toward the woman on the couch, then back at me. “Are you the manager of this club?”

  I frowned.

  “Then shut the fuck up.”

  “That asshole grabbed her ass.” My grip on the chair tightened. “Another second, he’d have stuck his fingers in her… in her pussy.” The word sounded wrong. I’d never minded using it before, but now, saying it to Stan about the woman I loved, it seemed wrong, a violation. But I had to use language he’d understand.

  “Come on, Nick.” Stan leaned back in his chair and spread his legs wide. “Girls willing to get on that stage, they know the score. Most of them are begging for it.”

  My fingers nearly pushed through the back of the chair, but I kept my anger focused on the metal chair, not Stan.

  “That’s not
fair,” I said. “Or true. Have you ever even talked to the dancers?”

  “Oh.” Stan smirked. “I’ve done way more than just talk to most of ‘em.” His hand grabbed his crotch in case I’d missed his oh-so-subtle innuendo.

  Jade would never let Stan touch her, never mind fuck her—I knew that—but that didn’t make it okay that he’d harassed the others. I’d come in here ready to do battle for Jade, but couldn’t remember why.

  Sadness washed over me. And shame.

  I was part of it. Over the past two years, I’d done what I could to keep the girls safe. And except for a few consensual hook-ups, I’d never touched any of the girls before Jade. But I was complicit. By not stopping Stan, I’d been an accomplice to unfair policies, sexual harassment, maybe rape.

  My attempt to go legit was a joke. My brothers were right. My job wasn’t legit. This place turned my stomach.

  “I quit.” I backed away from Stan. “Keep my last paycheck. I am so done with this fucking place.”

  Stan rose from the chair. “What the hell! You can’t quit.”

  “Watch me.” I turned toward the door.

  “Wait,” said the woman on the couch.

  I stopped short at her commanding voice and turned toward her.

  Dressed in a tight black dress and high heels, one leg crossed over the other, she stretched her arm along the back of the sofa. Her head tilted, and the light from a table lamp caught her face, her chin-length black hair, bright red lips, and dark glasses. She looked like she owned the whole world. Owned me.

  “What?” I asked to break the long pause.

  “You can’t quit,” she said. “I won’t allow it.”

  “And who the fuck are you?” She might be all fancy, but that didn’t mean she could boss me around.

  “I’m your boss, Nick. Nicola Rensetti.”

  My chin snapped up. The other Nick. The one who’d arranged Jade’s dad’s deal.

  “Well, boss,” I said. “Nice to finally meet you. I quit.” I reached for the doorknob.

  “Good luck finding a new place to live,” she said. “I’ve heard the San Francisco rental market has been rising somewhat.”

  I almost laughed at her understatement. This woman knew the power she held over the Shady Oaks tenants. Our rent was miles under market. But I could find another place to live. Or move in with one of my brothers, or Jade.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Nick.” Her long-nailed fingers drummed the sofa’s leather. “Can I offer you some advice?”

  I grunted.

  “It’s not smart to be rude to your employer.”

  “I already quit.” I shook my head. “You’re not my employer anymore.”

  “Oh, you’ll reconsider.” Her tone was assured.

  “Why do you even care?” I turned to her. “Stan will fill my spot in a day. Another man needing money to, you know, pay his rent.”

  “I expected more self-esteem from you Nick. A man like you… It’s sad to hear you so down on yourself.” She uncrossed her legs, stood and sauntered toward me. “Stan keeps me abreast of what goes on here. You’re a valuable employee.” She squeezed my biceps.

  I pulled my arm back.

  “Give us a moment?” Without even turning, she flicked her fingers toward Stan, who went out the back door of his office, which led to the fire escape.

  As soon as the door clicked behind Stan, Nicola’s body stiffened, her chin rose, and she removed her dark glasses. “You do not want to fuck with me.”

  “Yeah? Why’s that?”

  “For starters, you and your brothers will be out on your asses. And your junkie brother? Shane, is it?” A cruel smile twisted her dark red lips. “I’ll have him in jail by sundown.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Can’t I?” She shook her head. “Oh honey, you have no idea what I can do—to you, your brothers, your slutty little girlfriend and her family. You owe me. You all owe me.”

  Did I believe her? I wasn’t sure. I stared at her, trying to find the truth in her cold, overly made-up eyes. Her threats were probably hollow, but could I take that chance? It wasn’t just me who’d be affected. I should talk to my brothers first, to Jade.

  She reached into a shiny black purse, pulled out a tiny notebook and pen, and wrote something on a small slip of paper. “Here.”

  “What the fuck is that?”

  “The name of a Michelin star restaurant,” she said. “Your Jade was supposed to report to work there a month ago. Tell her to go tomorrow. I’ll make the call.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Jade

  I lay half on top of Nick, our legs entwined, my head on his shoulder.

  “So, how was your first Friday night at the restaurant?” His fingers made little circles on my lower back. “I forgot to ask.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, we didn’t do much talking when you got home from work.” My hand slid down to rest a few inches from where his dick was taking some well-deserved rest.

  It twitched, and my insides contracted.

  The second he’d walked into my apartment, he’d taken me hard and fast against the door, then again, tenderly but even more passionately, after we’d eaten.

  “I miss us working at the same place,” I told him, “but if that’s the way you greet me every night, it might make up for it.” I stifled a yawn.

  Our work schedules no longer synced up, but they weren’t that far off. I went to work around noon and got off between ten and midnight. That left about three hours to wait for Nick to come home from the club.

  “And?” he asked. “Is the job as great as you hoped?”

  “Definitely.” I snuggled against him. “They have me doing prep work. I think I scrubbed and trimmed a thousand baby carrots and beets, washed and patted dry even more tiny lettuce and arugula leaves, picking out all but the most perfect ones. Other than that, I mostly watch the sous chefs and line cooks, trying to learn, and staying alert so I can fetch things if someone shouts. Once service starts, I mostly keep out of the way, but the food in this place is amazing. Wow. Like art.”

  “Tastes good too, I bet.” He cupped my ass, and I sighed in response.

  “According to the food critics, it does.”

  “You don’t like it?

  “Haven’t tried it.”

  “I thought you got to eat at work?”

  “Not the dishes prepared for the front. One of the sous chefs does staff meals and it’s simpler food—a fish stew tonight—amazing, but nothing like what they serve to the customers.”

  “Are the people nice?” His hand drifted to the small of my back.

  “Sure. No chitchat, though, once service starts.” And no one talked to me during prep, either. It was clear that the other prep cooks resented my presence. Seems like everyone knew that strings had been pulled for me. “It’s weird to get a job I didn’t earn.”

  His hand stilled. “You don’t like it?”

  “No. It’s great. Really.” I stroked his chest. “And thanks again for finding out where my job was supposed to be.” I laughed. “I can’t believe the Nick I was looking for was a woman. Anyway, it’s an amazing opportunity—exactly what I wanted.”

  “That’s great, baby.” He kissed my head.

  “I’d like to meet this Nicola woman, thank her in person.”

  Nick’s body tightened beneath me. “Not a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t trust her.”

  I sensed he was done with that topic. For tonight, anyway. So was I, since I had to be at work in seven hours.

  My job fell pretty far onto the too-good-to-be true side, and it sucked that my coworkers knew it, but I’d win everyone over with hard work.

  * * *

  Nick

  The club was quiet for a Saturday night, and ever since I’d tried to quit, my distaste for the place had grown. It wasn’t hard to see how to make this place better. If Stan treated the staff with some dignity, cleaned the restrooms, improved th
e food, we’d get a better clientele and make more money. No doubt. But even if the bottom line remained the same, it would be a better place to work—better for the customers, too.

  Twice tonight a group of twentysomething-aged men had come in, immediately turned up their noses, and walked back out. They looked like tech-industry types with lots of cash to spend, but our drink prices were way out of whack with Solid Gold’s scuzzy vibe. That was another reason we didn’t make enough bank. Half the customers came in drunk or snuck in flasks.

  The new cocktail waitress yelled at Miguel. I glanced toward the bar as Tonya stomped over and then shoved the new girl. Miguel rolled his eyes and walked away from the escalating fight.

  I shook my head. Managing the cocktail waitresses was the bartender’s job, and Miguel reported to Stan, who must be seeing this from the one-way glass in his office, but the chances of him caring enough to come down were slim to none.

  Leaving my post at the door, I crossed to the bar. “Ladies.” I caught their attention. “What’s going on?”

  “Bitch took my table!” the new girl yelled.

  Tonya jabbed the new girl’s chest. “Learn your job. Table ten is mine.”

  “Hey.” I shook my head at Tonya. “How about we keep our hands to ourselves? Customers don’t need to see this.”

  “What customers?” the new waitress said. “Barely any tonight, and according to this bitch they’re all in her section. How am I ’posed to earn with no customers?”

  I looked over to Miguel, but he was polishing glasses, actively ignoring this.

  “What’s your name?” I asked the new girl.

  “Jenni, with an i.”

  “Okay, Jenni with an i, there’s no hostess here. The customers sit where they want, so some nights you might not get many in your section, other nights you’ll get plenty.”

  “Not if I’m on shift with this bitch!” Jenni yelled. “She’s got every fucking table along the stage! I’ve got shit.” She gestured toward the club space. “Six tables along the back. Only two customers all night, and they already had their two-drink minimums. Fucking draft beers!”