by Ashley Papa
See you tomorrow?
I switched off his screen. I was becoming too creeped out. Adam seemed a bit uneasy himself. We vowed to ignore the texts; I refused to let fear slow us down.
It was first class all the way from the moment we got into the Mercedes town car to being escorted up to box 53. The Roches had the suite’s fridge stocked with beer, wine, water, and Pepsi, which gave the impression they were expecting a packed suite. Rather than wait for the suite attendant, I popped a bottle of Albariño and poured myself a nice hefty glass. There was a large leather couch, a generous-sized closet that smelled like oak, and framed pictures of the Roches with Mavericks players hung on the walls. There was also a flat screen TV for those who wanted to watch the game from the comforts of the couch. I took a seat just behind Adam in one of the private stadium seats.
At every mini break, Adam and I strategized our mission for the night once the Roches arrived. No matter how much planning we tried to do, it would be hard to get a sense of where the night might end up. When I told Adam that I might have to go home with one of the brothers, he wasn’t the least bit supportive. In fact, he tried to tell me it wasn’t necessary for me to sleep with “everyone” for the sake of work. I took a slight offense to his comment but decided it was better to let it go than attack his insult. I just knew that with the Roches being such heavy drinkers, it would be simple to seduce some information out of them.
It’s amazing what you can get from a man in exchange for legs, a butt, and the potential for sex.
“Did you miss us?!”
A loud voice yelled from the entrance. Adam and I turned sharply to see Rodney and Richard burst into the suite like two raging bulls. Rodney was also holding a bottle of 2006 Screaming Eagle Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon, valued at over $1,000, in his hand like a water bottle. As annoyed as I was that they made us wait nearly an hour, I did my best not to show it.
“I was starting to think you boys left us hanging,” I stated.
According to them, their wives were giving them a hard time for going out when they had already been gone all week. Even though they were married, the Roche brothers came across as forever-bachelors.
The second half buzzer blared and Adam and Richard hustled over to the edge of the suite to catch the remaining game. Meanwhile, the suite waiter brought in more BBQ pulled pork, chicken sliders, some kind of cheese and rice dish, and baked beans. I could barely even stomach looking at the food but Rodney had no reserves about piling his plate high with the cuisine.
The Roches were getting louder and more inebriated as the night wore on. There were only two minutes left in the game and the Knicks had somehow brought themselves up from a 22-point deficit to now being tied at 110.
Please, I need overtime. I’ve got nothing new from tonight, so far.
Rodney left the other two and was heading towards the refrigerator. I quietly got up from the couch and followed behind him. When he opened the door, I snuck my hand around him while making it a point to let my breasts press up against the back of his arm. It made him jump.
“So, are you surprised to see me here?” I said in a near whisper.
“Hey, pretty girl, I am so happy you are here,” he said in his deep Texas drawl.
He put his heavy arm around my shoulders as if I was one of his long-time buddies.
“Last night was a blast. Liam is still recovering back home. I had no idea you were so close with Mayor Wilcox. What’s the scoop there?”
With his arm still draped over my shoulder, I led us both back over to the leather couch. He plopped down fast as I slowly and seductively removed my blazer.
“It’s really hot in here,” I said despite the goosebumps on my legs.
Rodney blatantly looked at my breasts with his glazed-over eyes. I could sense his arousal with my busting C-chest. I placed my cell phone on the coffee table in front of us, which I had inconspicuously placed on record.
“Walter? Yeah, we go way back…money stuff. Probably a good twenty years.”
He put his arm up behind me to either stretch it out or try to pull me in closer. I smiled and batted my eyes in a welcoming gesture. The way he spoke of their relationship made it seem like they had a very long history together; probably even longer than Victoria knew.
The Knicks had successfully scored enough points to lock in overtime. I looked over at Adam and Richard, who were sitting and chatting. I turned my attention back to Rodney.
“How far back do you go with the mayor?” I asked while casually putting my hand on his knee.
I proceeded to take a sip of my water and puppy-dog eye him. Rodney glanced down at me through the corner of his eyes with a look of intrigue.
“Wait a second, girlie. Aren’t you some reporter chick? How do I know you aren’t doing some kind of undercover story on me? I think you need to sit on my lap and make me feel a little better.”
My insides churned as I inched my way onto his lap with a forced smile. I could feel his bulge harden a little.
“Undercover? Please. I’d like to get under your covers,” I joked. “Plus, I have a hard time faking anything in my life.”
Rodney let out a childish giggle like he’d never been teased before.
“I was only kidding. I like you. You’re a smart little cookie. You ask a lot of questions. I never would’ve thought that about you,” he rambled and took a big swig of beer.
“So, you were talking about how you know the mayor? I’m just so intrigued.” I ran my fingers up and down his arm teasing him to the point of nearly getting him fully erect.
While continuing to caress him, he spilled some more about what Walter was like before he became mayor. Rodney revealed that he would come to Dallas a lot because he was looking to invest in the oil industry. He bought a large plot of land not too far from where the Roches lived—just outside Fort Worth—that was ripe with oil and gas. The Roches helped him with the purchase, mineral rights, production, and all the rest of the necessary arrangements. He couldn’t help but add that Walter likes to get out of the city as often as he can. When he said, “Walter likes being the mayor and all, but for him, the role is more about power.”
My blood boiled hearing such details but I stayed sitting on his lap.
“Why does he keep serving if he hates it so much?” I asked, with my arms now wrapped around Rodney’s neck.
I could tell the game was ending after a loud roar from the crowd and then the buzzer blared again.
“He’s got way too much to lose. That’s for sure,” he said.
Too much to lose? What was he talking about?
“I told him to come and hang tonight, but he is back at the house with...”
WITH?
And, just before Rodney could finish telling me who the mayor was “at the house with,” Richard and Adam came rushing over to fill us in on the game and completely info-blocked me.
“Sorry, New York. You lose!” Richard boasted before crashing down on the couch next to us.
Damnit! I was so close to getting a major clue.
I looked up at Adam, who was visibly inebriated. My alone time with Roche informant number one was officially over. I shimmied myself off his thighs and stood up.
“Hey, give Carmelo a break. He’s just coming off a sprained ankle,” Adam rebutted.
“Is Melo’s ankle to blame for Lopez’s greasy hands?” Richard replied.
While the two of them continued to analyze and fill Rodney in on what he had missed, I snuck out of the suite to give Liam a call. He was either ignoring me or asleep. I decided not to leave him a message. I couldn’t stand the idea of him having a taped lie of mine on his phone.
Just as I clicked off my phone, a stampede of basketball fans came swarming out of the suites like water through a broken levee. I pushed my way through the hordes of people to make my way back to the Roches and Adam, who were knocking back s
hots of tequila.
“Hey, fellas, let’s go somewhere else!” I loudly suggested.
“Hell yeah! Let’s go to Giddy Up for some line dancing and bull riding,” Richard announced before tossing his empty crystal shot glass into the air and sending it over the balcony.
“Sounds great. Pour me one of those, will ya?”
I proceeded to grab one of the glasses and Richard topped me off. I knew I’d have to be more intoxicated to deal with these boys for the rest of the night.
Oh my God, I’m paralyzed... and blind!
It was the first thought that entered my head waking up the next morning. I tried fluttering my eyes open but the mascara from the night before had glued my eyelashes together. I continued to analyze my surroundings to reassure myself I was back in my hotel room, alone in bed and not covered in vomit. I couldn’t remember anything after shot number four of Patrón in the Suburban.
I forcefully turned my stiff neck to the other side of the room. The fluorescent green light from the digital clock showed 9:45.
9:45?!
I couldn’t help the sensation that I was running late although I had nothing to be late for. I guess the idea of sleeping until midmorning even on a Saturday seemed wrong. Having succeeded in lifting my heavy head off the pillow, I peeled myself off the queen-sized bed, carefully positioned my feet on the floor, and stood. I could feel the stiffness of my leather miniskirt, which I had apparently slept in. My shirt was off but my bra was still on. I reached my hands to my head and pressed on my temples while moving the skin in a clockwise direction.
My phone!
The instant panic made my head throb as if I was just hit with a metal baseball bat. I scanned the room. It was nowhere to be found and the blurriness from leaving my contacts in all night didn’t help, either. Everything I recorded, from my chats with the Roches, photos, and who knows what else were on that phone. I dumped out my purse which was already half spilled out on the floor. I searched under my bed and everywhere else I could think of. The room was a mess.
Did I bring anyone home last night? Why is the lampshade hanging on the doorknob? There’s no vomit in the garbage. That’s either a good thing, or a bad thing. I’m never drinking again.
Then, I found it. Right below the doorknob on the floor was my cell phone. My heartbeat returned to normal. I could see from the cracks in the blinds that the sun was going to be strong today.
Where is Adam??
Panic ensued yet again. I went next door to his bedroom. He wasn’t there. I bolted to the living room, hoping he was passed out on the floor, at best. Stunned, he was sitting upright on the couch, curtain and blinds open, and looking bright-eyed while dressed in his Ralph Lauren polo khakis and navy boat shoes. He was on his laptop too. There was a heavenly aroma coming from the kitchenette. It was the coffee he had brewing and the breakfast sandwich he had ordered from room service.
“How the hell are you up before me?” I grumbled while slothfully making my way to the coffee pot.
“You don’t remember anything last night, do you?” he asked, matter-of-factly.
“Uh...No.”
This can’t be good.
I went over and sat next to him with a hot cup of caffeinated goodness in my hands. He smelled nice and clean, like lavender soap, while I could only imagine what farm animal I smelled of. Adam hit the slideshow and the pictures of the night before started cycling through. One-by-one, there were photos of me riding the mechanical bull in my bra and skirt with my thong sticking out. Those were preceded by images of me making out with Rodney, me screaming at some girl, and then taking more shots.
“I don’t even know how to react to this,” I commented.
Adam was failing at his attempt to hold in his laughter. The brothers looked even more plastered than me in the pictures.
“You and Rodney then left for a little bit. I didn’t know where you went, but you were back in about 45 minutes,” Adam continued to detail.
Forty-five minutes? Did we hook up? What the hell happened?
After Adam alerted me to the fact that I had disappeared with the one brother, I quickly went for my phone. I had yet to analyze it and thought maybe there would be evidence on there. I opened up the photo gallery to some new pictures of Rodney and me. There were at least 30 selfies of us kissing, smiling, and making stupid faces and one of me pretending to strangle him. There was also a new audio recording on the phone that was taken about the time Rodney and I disappeared for that short while. I must have remembered or accidently hit record on my phone when we were alone.
Still sitting next to Adam, I replayed the audio. There was country music playing in the background. Then, Rodney and I could be heard talking and there was the occasional sound of lips smacking. It sounded like there was a lot of flirting going on too. “Things really are bigger in Texas, aren’t they?” I heard myself say, followed by some giggling.
“Wow,” I said to Adam.
What we heard next was what really stuck with me. It was I saying, “I want to do an exposé on Walter and his family.” Then, Rodney responded with, “You need to do a book on his family life, not an exposé.”
A book? His family life didn’t seem that complex. What was he talking about?
It took all morning and afternoon to feel like myself again. Adam had to continue to fill me in on some of the details throughout the day, in addition to how I committed us to joining the Roches at their house this evening for a barbecue. I must have also demanded a ride to the party because promptly at 5 p.m., we were being whisked away in a town car. While eating more barbecue in the hot sun was not that inviting to me at the present moment, I was anxious to see how these men lived and if Mayor Wilcox would be there.
When the car rolled up to Rodney’s compound, a massive security gate and a large stonewall surrounding the front of the property prevented us from going any farther. It was the type of wall you’d expect along the Texas-Mexico border, not someone’s house. There was a sign carved into the stone along the gate that read “La Casa De Roche.” The driver punched in a code and, like magic, the gates opened and up the driveway he went. Adam and I each stared out our windows in amazement. I was more taken by the level of security surrounding the place than the opulently manicured landscaping. Cameras, locked gates, codes: it was beginning to feel like I was entering the grounds of Pablo Escobar.
No wonder Walter likes being around with them so much.
A guard stood at the entrance, ready to take us through the marble-floored foyer. From there, we zigzagged through the kitchen with its oak cabinets, double oven and brass cookware hanging from a large rack overhead. We were then led outside to a beautiful patio and an in-ground pool. People, casually dressed in polos and khakis, were scattered about. Rodney and Richard were easy to spot. And, standing right with them was Mayor Wilcox and to my surprise, Comptroller Brownstein.
What’s he doing here?
Richard yelled in our direction and summoned us over with his big, Sasquatch-like hand. I gave Adam a little nudge and we proceeded over to the group. With my head held high and a “nice to see you” smile plastered on my face, I greeted everyone. Mayor Wilcox didn’t appear as open and friendly as he did two nights ago at Chez Régine.
“Why if it isn’t Paige Turner. Reporting for duty down in Texas? What brings you down here?” Walter questioned while raising his voice slightly as if to demonstrate he still had authority over me.
“Hello, Mayor. I take it you don’t remember anything from Thursday night?” I hinted while reaching out to shake his hand.
It was a slow and firm shake, as if he was trying to tell me, he remembered.
“Oh, I remember bits and pieces. Mostly the good bits,” he slyly said with a perverted smile.
“Let’s get you both something to drink. It’s rude to not have a drink in your hand. But, I think we better keep Paige away from th
e tequila and any mechanical bulls,” Rodney joked while grabbing me around the shoulder to escort me to the bar.
I could feel myself sweating underneath my white T-shirt and denim pleated skirt. The sun beating down on the stone heated the patio another ten degrees, at least. The poolside bar had just about every kind of top-shelf liquor I knew of, and more. A busty blonde girl who looked like she was still in high school was behind it serving the drinks. She poured me a glass of Sancerre and I tipped her five dollars.
We walked away. I wanted to bring up the night before to learn a little more about what the hell happened. Instead, I decided to rave about his castle-like home with the Venetian columns in the front, the marble floors, gold-finished moldings, and Italian fountains along the sides of the house.
“Eh, the house needs updating,” he responded. “I just try and please the wife. It is all her doing. Well, not all her doing, I did pay for it. She just decorates and all that crap. Oh, I need to introduce you to her first.”
Rodney’s constant quick-changing thoughts made me realize that not only was he obnoxious and a womanizer, he apparently had ADD. I followed to where his wife was standing with a few of her other friends, who could’ve all been clones. The majority of the women at the party were over-tanned blondes, with lashes the length of my pinky, lips the color of Valentine’s Day, and all were sporting some of the biggest diamond rings I’ve seen this side south of 47th Street. They were obviously all wives of oilmen, or men with money, in general. Pamela was the prettiest of the group, who also happened to be Rodney’s wife.
“Pam. This is my buddy, Paige, from the big city. Say hi, Pam,” Rodney ordered.
His Barbiesque wife came in to give me a big hug as if I was a long-lost cousin.
“Nice to meet you,” I forced out.
“It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Paige. It is just like my dear Rodney to pick up complete strangers and turn them into his best friends,” she gushed. “So what brings you to Dallas?”
She batted her butterfly lashes at me and smiled. Her teeth were so white, I thought they could light up the night.