by Hannah Ford
Chase was completely naked, his muscular body stretched all the way out with his arm cushioning Faith’s head as she snuggled into the crook of his arm. She ran her hand across the length and breadth of his ribcage, up across his chest, scratching his nipples with her fingernails.
He sighed, contented. “Damn,” he muttered, his eyes drowsy as he stared up toward the ceiling.
She admired his jaw, the depth of his features, the strength that every pore of his body seemed to radiate.
“This is nice,” she whispered, snuggling that much closer. His arm wrapped under her neck and his hand angled toward her hair, as his fingers tangled in the strands and played with them, tingling her scalp.
“I’m going to get soft if we spend too much time like this,” he said.
She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “I think we should do this every day.” Faith kissed his chest, and then licked his nipple, pretend biting his skin.
He sat up a little and looked at her. “You know how I said my life is complicated, right?”
She smiled, and then, as she saw the look on his face, her smile faded. “Why do I feel like I’m about to get a bomb dropped on me right about now?”
He shook his head. “I should’ve explained this shit to you from the beginning. Back when I asked you to sign those papers. You remember?”
“Yeah, of course I remember.” She sat up, too, her stomach churning with worry as she saw Chase’s expression.
He looked—almost—nervous. And she’d never seen him look that way before.
“Well, the thing is…I’ve got a lot of entanglements with my history, you know? My past. I need to protect myself.”
“I don’t understand,” Faith told him, squinting. “What—what are you—“
“Just let me get to it,” he said, sounding edgy. He drove his fist onto the mattress with a loud thump, and Faith sat further back now, moving her body away from his.
“Get to what, exactly?”
And then she understood. Her mouth dropped open. “Are you breaking up with me already?”
He smirked. “No, girl. It’s not that. It’s not even close.”
“Oh.” She rubbed her hand across her face. “I’m confused, Chase. What the heck’s going on right now? I thought things were good.”
“They are good.” He nodded, contemplative. “Yeah, they are. But maybe after I tell you what I’m about to tell you…you might not feel the same way about me anymore.”
Her stomach flipped and dropped all at once, and she felt nauseous. “This sounds bad,” she muttered. “Well, just tell me. Get it over with already.”
Chase raised his gaze to meet hers. “My agent put me in touch with this company called Club Alpha,” he said, “back when I first signed with New England. He told me that they work in this field called lifestyle management.”
“What’s that even mean?” Faith asked, genuinely curious.
“I don’t exactly know,” he chuckled, without much humor. His eyes were distant. “I just know that they meant business. They flew me and a couple other big name athletes in this private jet to Vegas, and put us up in a really expensive villa. They comped everything. Put on a party, gave us gambling money, really pulled out all the stops to show us how well connected they were.”
Faith was getting more and more restless as he continued to evade the point. “So what happened?” she said.
“What happened is, they explained to me that they understood my situation.”
“Your situation?” she repeated.
“Yeah. I’m vulnerable to being stung,” he told her. “How many rich young famous dudes get involved with some woman and then, next thing you know, it’s on the cover of some tabloid with a full interview inside? The girl sells the story and the guy’s life turns to shit.”
“I feel sick,” Faith said, putting a hand on her stomach.
“You want me to stop talking?”
“No, just say it. Please, just…just tell me the rest.”
He sighed. “I knew they were right about my problem. I have a past and my agent and my media people, they’ve made up this whole story that totally erased the gang stuff and my true past. Nobody in the mainstream media knows about my mom or the fact that I was arrested and did time when I was a juvenile.”
Faith’s eyes widened. “You went to jail?”
Chase pointed to the tattoo on his chest of the clock with no hands on it. “You never found out what this one meant,” he said. “It’s a symbol for doing time. And I did about eight months when I was fifteen for strong-arm robbery.”
“I don’t know what strong-arm robbery even means.”
“It means I didn’t use a weapon. I just went up to someone and threatened them physically and made them give me their possessions. I used to just go up to folks on the street and tell them to give me their shit. I didn’t need a knife or gun—just my height and the fact that I was mean was enough to do the trick.”
Faith closed her eyes. She didn’t want to hear any of this, but she knew she had to listen. She’d told him she could handle it, and so she would. “You used to rob people on the street?”
“I told you it was bad,” he said, his voice sounding hard and unapologetic.
She opened her eyes. “So what does any of this have to do with me?”
He draped an arm across his knee as he sat with his back against the headboard. “While I was out in Vegas, I officially hired Club Alpha to assist me in finding someone who could be trustworthy for me to spend time with,” he said, still looking at her as he spoke.
“I don’t get it.” She squinted harder, as if trying to decipher tiny words on a test in a foreign language.
“Club Alpha told me that they were experienced in finding women for men like me. Rich, powerful men with secrets, they said. That’s their specialty—and a lot of guys use them.”
“I never heard of them,” she said. “You think I work for them or something?”
“I know you work for them,” he replied.
Faith laughed, shaking her head. “Chase, somebody’s been messing with you. Club Alpha, whoever they are—they’re full of it. They’re lying to you, because I never had anything to do with them. So if you think I’m part of some crazy business that puts women together with rich guys—I would never do that.”
“Faith,” Chase said softly. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. You do work for Club Alpha. You signed the papers here, in my house.”
She sat up straighter, as if someone had just dumped cold ice water down her back. “You had me sign those papers to make sure I wouldn’t blab to the media. That was it,” she said. “What did that have to do with this Club you keep talking about?”
“They gave me those forms. Those were contracts. Club Alpha contracts. And they’re iron clad, Faith. They keep you from revealing any incriminating information about me to the press or anybody else. And you also were hired on as a part-time contractor for Club Alpha. Technically, I guess you could say you’re a high class escort.”
“An escort? Like a prostitute or a hooker or something?” she said, her throat closing as she choked on the words.
He shrugged. “I don’t care what name they call it. I just wanted to make sure that I could be with a girl and not have to worry about her screwing up my life. I’ve got a lot on the line, a lot riding on my reputation.”
She got out of bed and slipped on her panties and bra, and then climbed into her pants. “I’m leaving,” she announced.
Chase put on his boxers as he followed her out of the bedroom and into the living room. “I knew you’d be upset and that’s why I didn’t talk to you about it at first.”
She turned on him, her fear and disgust turning quickly to flat-out rage. “You tricked me,” she said, her hands balling up into fists. “You never told me I was signing up to be a prostitute. Do you have any idea what you’ve fucking done to me?”
He stood there, hands at his sides. “Yeah, I do.”
�
�But you don’t fucking care,” she said, feeling tears behind her eyes. “You really are low, Chase. Lowest of the low.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe what you did to me.”
“You’re not a prostitute,” he said. “The contracts were just for protection. You didn’t have sex with me for money and I didn’t pay you.”
“I know I didn’t have sex with you for money, asshole. I don’t need you to explain that to me.” She pointed at him. “But you lied to me. You tricked me. And I cared about you and that’s what you do? What is wrong with you, Chase?”
He licked his lips. “This is the arrangement. This is how it has to be,” he said. “A guy in my position—“
“Fuck you. And fuck your position.” She pulled her shirt over her head, slipped on her heels and grabbed her purse. “Do not. Call me. Ever.” And then she ran out of the house, not even bothering to close the door behind her as she fled.
* * *
By the time she’d gotten home to her apartment, Faith was deeply rattled by what had transpired between her and Chase.
I can’t believe he did that to me. How dare he? Who does he think he is?
The thoughts raced in her mind.
I never want to see his face or hear his voice again.
And yet, she continuously checked her cell, hoping to see a text or a missed call from him. As she slammed the door to her apartment closed behind her, the silence of the place hit her like a wall, and she dropped down on her recliner and cried like a little baby.
She cried, heaving, her shoulders shaking, the tears pouring down her face and between her fingers until she had to run to the bathroom and grab a roll of toilet paper to use to wipe her tears away.
Sniffling, her sobs began to ebb, and she sighed once and then twice.
Her phone was ringing.
Faith’s heart leaped for joy. He’s going to call me and apologize, Faith thought to herself. If he does, even though I’m furious of course—I’ll agree to give him another chance.
But only if he’s apologetic and means it.
The smile died on her lips as she picked up the cell phone and saw the number was blocked.
Maybe he’s calling from his landline.
She continued to hope as she answered her cell, readying herself to feign anger, even as she desperately wanted to reconcile with Chase if at all possible.
“Hello?” she answered, trying to keep her tone even, firm, resolute.
“Is this Faith?” a man’s voice queried through the phone.
“Who is this?”
“My name’s Max. Max Mendez and I’m with a company by the name of Club Alpha.”
Faith felt her body turn to ice, frozen, and a shot of fear penetrated right to her very core. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied. “I have to go.”
“Do not hang up, Faith. I’m not a very patient man.”
She swallowed. “Don’t threaten me,” she said.
“It’s not a threat.” The man’s voice seemed to soften just a little. “I’d like to meet with you and discuss a few things, explain a little bit about what we do.”
“I don’t have a lot of time at the moment,” she said. “I’m very busy.”
“Oh? You’re busy, even after being fired from your place of work?”
There was a long silence as she took in his question. Somehow, he knew she’d been fired. He knew her phone number and her name.
Chase Winters must’ve told him everything. She wondered what else Chase had told this man. Her stomach was rolling and bubbling, and now she truly was nauseous.
This was a violation.
“I’m not sure what you think you know about me,” she said slowly, careful now with her words.
“I know everything I need to know,” the man said. “I’d like to have a chance to speak with you before you decide to do something silly and unnecessary such as call the police.”
“I intend to call the police,” she told him. “And no, I won’t speak with you.”
“If you call the police,” he said, “you’re going to hurt Chase Winters. But more importantly, you’ll hurt yourself, Faith. We have a contract with you. Moreover, we’re only here to help you and to help Chase. I’m not going to hurt you in any way, shape or form.”
“Leave me alone.” She hung up the phone and sat there, her heart racing, wondering what to do. She picked it up and dialed 911.
But then she wondered what she could really tell the police. Nothing she said would make much sense to them, and she knew it. Would they think that a superstar like Chase Winters was really using an expensive and shady agency to somehow entrap her into prostitution?
She hardly believed it, and she’d lived it.
That caused her to pause and think. Maybe the best course of action was to wait and see.
There was suddenly a knock on her apartment door and she jumped, her heart racing fast once more.
“Go away!” she shouted. “I’m calling 911.”
“Faith?” a familiar voice called through the door. “Don’t call the cops. It’s me, Greg.”
She was stunned. What was her jerky boss doing at her apartment door?
“Greg?” she said, standing now and walking towards her door. “What are you doing here?”
“Look, can you let me in for a second? I want to…uh…apologize to you.”
Faith’s eyes narrowed as she approached the door. This had to be some kind of trick. It just didn’t make sense. “I don’t believe you,” she told him.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll talk through the door if you want.”
She unlocked the door and then quickly stepped back as far as she could and held her phone up, her thumb hovering over the call button. “Come in,” she said. “It’s open.”
The door swung open and Greg stood before her. He was wearing a suit that looked rumpled, and she noticed the sleeve was torn. And then she saw that he had dried blood around his nostrils and a scratch running up the side of his neck. “Hey,” he said, waving sheepishly at her.
“Greg, what happened to you?” she asked, dropping the phone to her side. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, walking slowly inside her apartment, glancing around as if someone else might be there waiting. “Just had a rough day,” he explained, motioning towards his ripped sleeve.
She was feeling less and less afraid of him. His body language was of someone who’d had all of the fight taken out of him. Which, judging from the looks of him, he had.
“What happened to you?” she asked him, crossing to her easy chair and sitting down as he sat down on the couch opposite her, leaning forward a little, elbows on his knees.
“I came here to offer you your job back.”
Faith’s brow furrowed. “You want me to come back to work for you.”
He nodded, not quite able to meet her gaze. “That’s right.”
“Greg, you look like someone maybe put a scare into you. Was it Chase?” she asked, hoping against hope that it wasn’t. Of course, she couldn’t imagine how he would’ve had time to find Greg and beat him up, since she’d only left Chase’s place in Beacon Hill a couple of hours ago.
But anything was possible.
“Chase Winters?” Greg said. He laughed. “No, it wasn’t him.”
“Oh, good,” she sighed, relieved.
“I think it was friend of his,” Greg replied. “Max something or other. From some Club.”
Faith felt a chill pass through her body. “Club Alpha?” she said.
“That’s the one,” Greg laughed, standing up. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and went to the window. “Mind if I smoke?”
“Uh…” she didn’t really want him to, but felt bad for him. “Sure.”
He slid the window up and glanced outside, before lighting his cigarette. “I haven’t smoked in like five years. Quit awhile back. Seems like a good time to pick it back up again.”
“I’m sorry for whatever happe
ned to you,” she said, watching him as he took a long drag. “But I had nothing to do with it,” Faith added.
Greg glanced at her. “Never said you did.”
“So no need to apologize to me or hire me back.”
Now he turned to face her, the cigarette dangling from his lip as he spoke. “You need to come back to work,” he said. “Otherwise they’ll hurt me. Bad.”
“They said that?”
He grabbed the cigarette from his mouth and looked at it as if it had answers. “That dude, Max. He’s a big, mean fucker. Slapped me around, tossed me into a wall outside our building—laughed at me when I screamed.”
“Jesus,” Faith whispered, her jaw clenching with fear.
“He said that they were aware of how I treated you and it wasn’t going to be tolerated. He said I was to come here and apologize immediately, and to give you a raise and a promotion.”
“A promotion?”
“That’s what he said and it’s what I’m going to do, Faith.” Greg shook his head in disbelief, took another long drag from the cigarette and his shoulders relaxed. “Your new boyfriend is very powerful and he’s got some big guns on his side. I don’t need this shit, okay?”
She realized that Greg was petrified. Truly petrified.
“Okay,” she said. “Calm down.”
He looked over at her, his face creased with lines of worry. “So you accept my apology? You’ll come back to work?”
“Sure,” she said, not even knowing why she was agreeing. The whole thing seemed crazy, but she just felt terrible for Greg. As badly as he’d treated her, she didn’t want to see him hurt.
He straightened up, smiling a little. “Thanks,” he said. “You’ll get an office, too,” he told her. “You know, I was always too hard on you. I was being a prick about things between us. Guess I should’ve known you’d wait around until you landed a big fish like Chase Winters.” He puffed on his cigarette and then tossed it out the window.
“You sure you’re okay, Greg?” she asked, as he started towards the door.
“Yeah,” he said, not really looking at her. He was shambling, perhaps limping, she decided, as he went past. Suddenly, he swung towards her, putting his hand in his jacket pocket and removing a plain white envelope. “Oh, I almost forgot. That guy, Max, he told me to give this to you.”