by Maya Hughes
“Playing the peeping tom again?” I teased, sitting on the edge of her computer console.
“I really hate you sometimes,” she said, squeezing the bridge of her nose. “Why are you here?”
“I need your help with something,” I said, picking up her squishy pig-shaped stress ball and squeezing it until its eyes bugged out.
“What?” she said with a sigh, switching some of the screens, flipping through various rooms of the club. There was a woman up on a platform being spanked with a flogger, another screen showed two men fucking the same woman, and a host of other much more intense scenes being played out.
“I need you to get me some info on Rhys Thayer,” I said, putting the ball down. She whirled around in her seat, sizing me up.
“Why?” she asked, her eyes boring into me.
“Because I’m not going to let him get away with everything all over again.”
“What is it with you and him? Ever since high school, you’ve been so bent out of shape about him,” she said, her eyes going back to her screen like it didn’t matter. Like I was being unreasonable. I clenched my fists.
“Bent out of shape? You don’t think getting me kicked out of school and his parents destroying my father is something I have a right to be a little upset about?” I asked, feeling my jaw tightening with each word.
“You got yourself kicked out of school, Kill. You did that. No one else is to blame for the mistakes we make. And you’re carrying out a vendetta for your old man now? Wow, I’ve seen it all, now haven’t I?” she said, not taking her eyes from the screen.
“I knew I shouldn’t have come here for your help,” I said, pushing off the console.
“What information do you want?” she asked, still refusing to look at me.
“I need you to dig a little deeper into what happened to Beth. I was talking to someone and they said they don’t think it went down like he’s pretending it did.” Rhys Thayer was a son of a bitch. I’d been too caught up in playing his rich boy games back when we were in high school, but I was finally in a place where I had the power. The power to crush him, and I wasn’t going to let anyone stand in my way.
“And would this person be the junkie known as Allan? Don’t go digging and stirring things up just because you feel guilty, Killian,” she said, spinning her chair around. Frankie always thought she knew what was best for everyone. Ever the observer, never deigning to get involved with the little people. If she wasn’t such a good friend, I’d probably hate her. But hacking my grades to keep me from losing my scholarship back in high school left me forever in her debt, even if I did end up losing the scholarship anyway.
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Francesca,” I said, drawing her name out. She winced at her full name and glared at me. “I’m going to get the information one way or another. Are you going to help me or not?”
“Fine, but when this blows up in your face, don’t say I didn’t warn you. You need to stop letting things you can’t control drive your life, Kill.” She went back to her console, clacking away at her keyboard, and I strode out of her office. Once she got me what I needed there’d be nothing to stop me from finally bringing Thayer down.
3
RACHEL
My fitful night of sleep was as restful as it ever was. I should have put my phone on airplane mode, but I didn’t want to miss a single email. There were always new projects starting and I wanted to get a jump on them as quickly as I could. The glow of the screen wreaked havoc on my sleep pattern, but if Mr. Thayer was up, I was too.
Opening a new hospital wing, the groundbreaking for a new homeless shelter, and buying a new plane for Doctors without Borders were on the early morning docket.
“Rachel, I need the financial projections for the hospital wing,” Mr. Thayer said, glancing up from his phone. The car jerked to a sudden stop, nearly sending my coffee flying. I recovered and tucked it between my legs.
“Of course.” I brought them up on my tablet and handed them over.
“These are for the Red Cross,” he said, handing it back without looking at me. Shit!
I grabbed it back from him and brought up the right document, handing it back to him.
“Sorry.” My leg bounced up and down as he read it over.
“Only seventy million,” he said, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “It’s a five million dollar decrease from the last report you gave me.”
“Yes, they sent over those updated projections last week. The builder procured a lot of the materials at a discount once your name was attached to the project. They knew it would give them a lot more publicity.”
He slammed the tablet down on the seat beside him. Shouldn’t he be happy about a reduction in the costs?
“We need to give another five million to an animal charity then. Find one from the list and prepare a report by four.” He stared out the window as we pulled up to the third hospital this week. Rows of photographers waited. Their cameras poised and ready to capture every move he made.
“Of course.” I gathered the papers on the seat and tucked them into my bag.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as I’d seen him do dozens of times before these events. When they opened, the smile on his face could have lit up a room. He threw open the door and the blinding flash of cameras went on for minutes on end as he waved to everyone.
I slipped out of the car and added the report to the long list of to-do items on my tablet. As grueling as my job was, I didn’t mind. I got to see the work he did up close and the impact of Rhys’s actions wasn’t like anything I’d seen before. My mom’s events did a lot of great things and raised a lot of money, but they were always at least a step removed from those who benefited from them.
We toured the new children’s hospital wing where children were with their parents, in single rooms. Over three hundred beds were added with the new wing. There was a lounge with board games, video games, and everything else you could have wanted to play with. A little theater for kids to watch movies or put on performances.
As our group walked by with the hospital director, as she pointed to the brand-new specialty centers, something caught my eye. I stopped, letting them keep going. In a small reading alcove, a little girl sat in the window seat that took up the whole nook. She had a stack of books and she tried to pick them all up, but they kept falling out of her hands. I took a step closer and knelt.
“Need some help?” She nodded. Her hospital gown was covered with galloping ponies.
“Thank you,” she said, as I gathered up the rest of the brightly colored children’s books.
“There you are,” a frazzled looking woman said, rushing around the corner.
“Mommy, there are so many new books,” the little girl said brightly. It warmed my heart to see how happy they made her. The mom glanced at my name badge they’d given us.
“You work for Rhys Thayer,” she said, her eyes wide. I nodded and she threw her arms around me, squeezing me so tightly I could barely breathe. It took me a few seconds to realize she was crying as she shook. I wrapped my arms around her.
“I’m sorry. Sorry,” she said, dropping her arms and wiping the tears from her face. “It’s just this is the first time in a long time I’ve seen Liz so happy. This new wing is so amazing.”
“It’s so sunny, Mommy,” the little girl said, hugging the books to her chest. This was what I loved about my job. I loved seeing how much of an impact Rhys had on the people around him. My mom ran galas like the best of them, but with Rhys I was at things like this every day.
“Please tell him I said, ‘thank you’,” she said, smiling with tears in her eyes. “He paid all of our bills. For everyone in the whole wing. I don’t know what we would have done.” She took another deep breath and pressed her palm into her chest. “We’ve been through a lot since Liz was diagnosed almost a year ago, but seeing the library when we walked into the wing, she was so happy. We all were, so please tell him ‘thank you.’”
�
�I will. I promise you, I will.”
“Rachel,” Rhys called my name and I hugged the woman once again before waving goodbye. I made a note to ensure that there was a fresh shipment of books delivered to the fifteen hospital wings he’d opened all over the country once per month. The tour continued and then we were off to the next project.
My feet throbbed when I dragged myself into my apartment. Even in flats, all that walking meant I needed to prop them up. As tired as I was, the energy from meeting all the people throughout the day coursed through me. I’d accepted more hugs than I could count, more handshakes than ever before, and this was a slow week. I knew it was the right choice, deciding to strike out on my own. I loved my job.
The weekend was uneventful as usual. I went to my neighborhood coffee shop and read the paper. Dahlia was out at all hours and sleeping most of the day since starting with her new client. The middle-of-the-night tattoo appointment ended up being a much bigger job than she thought. She was super tight lipped about it, though. She treated tattoos like doctor-patient confidentiality. I appreciated the dedication to her clients.
This meant I spent a good amount of time cleaning the apartment, which was already spotless. Running to the gardening center to pick up some peonies. Lugging ceramic planters and potting soil on the subway was my new least favorite thing ever. I broke two and almost broke down and got a taxi, but I admonished myself for trying to take the easy way out. The workout was good for me. “Totally worth it” I told myself under my breath, as I set the pots out on our fire escape. I loved how they played peek-a-boo with their beauty. They didn’t just have one state.
The quiet tranquility of my weekend, when I wasn’t answering emails, screeched to a halt the minute I walked in the door Monday morning.
“Rachel, I need you to get to the bottom of this and find out who’s behind these surprise elections,” Mr. Thayer said before I even put my bag down in the morning. He wasn’t usually a task master, just exacting. And I wasn’t going to let him down. He took a chance on me, giving me this job with no executive assistant experience in the past.
“What? Who?” I asked, rushing into his office. He flipped through stacks of papers. Folders everywhere. I glanced around wondering what the hell was happening.
“Someone is trying to get me kicked off the boards I serve on.”
“Which ones?”
“All of them.”
If someone took over his positions, the donations he made wouldn’t have the same impact. I thought back to the little girl in the hospital, how happy she’d been. How moved her mother had been. I needed to do whatever I could to make sure he could keep doing his vital work. Being a part of this made me feel like I was making a difference, finally. I wasn’t willing to give that up.
Find out who was trying to screw with the board elections. That was my task. My boss told me to get something done and that was what I did. I prided myself on always accomplishing my task, but I had no idea where to start with this. Detective Skills 101 hadn’t been on my course schedule during my college days. He gave me everything he had on the issue, which wasn’t much, but I had to come up with something.
After a week, I had nothing. The fear set in. I needed to get this done. I couldn’t fail. I’d been to every other office and they’d all been quite apologetic, but said there was nothing they could do for me. I sat in the reception of the last foundation Mr. Thayer sat on the board of, my leg bouncing up and down as I waited for my meeting. I reassessed my story over and over in my head.
I hadn’t told this one I worked for him, but that I represented a party who would like to make a large donation to the foundation and preferred to stay anonymous for now. It wasn’t a lie. Thayer would like to make a large donation, just like he did every year. It was stretching the truth a tiny bit. I was beyond the point of caring about a white lie. I needed answers to report back to my boss and I wasn’t getting anywhere being truthful.
The door to the chairman’s office swung open and the chairman came out shaking hands with another man. He was much younger than the chairman. Tall, very tall with sandy blonde hair. His hair reminded me of a white sand beach, where the sun would sink into your skin and you never wanted to leave. He filled out that suit well. Almost too well, I could see the fabric straining over his biceps and shoulders.
“And I look forward to speaking with you about the elections next month,” the blonde said, pumping the chairman’s hand up and down. The elections. I gripped the edge of the seat. This was him. This was the guy causing all the problems for Mr. Thayer. I needed to get his information. Find out who he was and what he was up to. My mind whirred as I tried to think of an excuse to follow this guy. Their goodbyes finished, he turned toward me, and everything I’d said about him feeling warm and sunny immediately evaporated. My stomach knotted as his eyes swept over me.
It was only a second, barely a glance, but they did, they’d skimmed right over me, but the icy blue of his eyes froze everything in me as I sat on the couch. My teeth almost chattered at the grim line of his lips, sending a shiver down my spine. He shoved his hands into his pockets and got into the elevator. The doors began to close between us, and just before they slid shut, his eyes shifted to mine. He rubbed his hand over his mouth and slid his thumb along the side of his mouth. I really wanted to be that thumb. I nearly fell off my seat. I hadn’t even realized I was leaning forward until I caught myself on the coffee table in front of me. A few magazines slid off the other side and onto the floor. His pink lips quirked up in a hint of a smile and then he was gone.
Ugh, I knew guys like him. Guys in high school and college who knew how good looking they were. They knew what a smile could do. And they were also jackasses. Complete and total assholes who thought just because they got a woman a little hot and bothered that meant they could do whatever they wanted. Well screw him…I mean not screw him, but fuck him…ugh. Not that either. I’d figure out what he was up to and stop him before he did any more damage to my boss.
“Ms. Halston. Ms. Halston,” called the receptionist from behind me and from how impatiently she said it, she must have been calling my name for a while.
“Yes, sorry,” I said, completely flustered. Right, down to business. I needed to get to the bottom of this. Because I couldn’t fail. I hadn’t yet and I wasn’t going to start now.
4
KILLIAN
Things were falling into place. I’d visited every board and foundation Thayer chaired and let them know of the shit storm that would reign down on them if they continued to keep him in their organization. Frankie was still digging, but I knew what she’d find. I knew Thayer’s pretty boy, nice guy image was as fake as half the tits in this city. And I wasn’t going to let what he’d done go unpunished.
I walked into my gym, ready to burn off some excess energy. I dropped my bag on the bleachers. This weekly pickup game was exactly what I needed right now. My phone vibrated in my hand. An unknown number. I tapped the screen.
“This is a collect call from a prisoner at San Quentin Correctional Facility. Would you like to accept the call?” I ended the call and shoved my phone into my bag.
“Stop fucking around and get out here, man,” said John Grimsby, “Grim” to anyone who wanted him to answer. He dribbled the ball before shooting it from halfway across the court and sinking it like it was nothing. He’d been all set to play college football before a knee injury stopped him dead in his tracks. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t still play a little ball.
“I’m just letting you get your warm up shots done before I come out there and kick your ass,” I said, stepping onto the court and stealing the ball away from him, my sneakers squeaking, as I spun to make an easy layup.
“I gave that to you,” he said, strolling down the court. “Make it, take it,” he said, as I passed him the ball. The screeching of sneakers and balls dribbling on the court filled the air as other games went on around us.
“Fine with me,” I said, and watched as the ball saile
d over my head and swished through the net. “I wasn’t ready,” I said, grabbing the ball and checking it back to him.
“And since when have you ever played fair?” he asked, dribbling the ball. “So, what’s the deal? What’s going on with you? You’re Mr. Secretive all of a sudden.” I stole the ball from him and sunk a three-point shot, trying to steer the conversation away from myself and his questions. Grim wouldn’t understand. His name aside, he was a forgiving kind of guy who wouldn’t be okay with me dredging up the past.
“I’m just working on something with Frankie. She’s helping me with a few things.”
“Ah. Mistress Francesca,” he said, chuckling.
“Don’t let her hear you call her that, or she’ll have you strapped down with a flogger on your ass in no time,” I warned, stealing the ball from him and scoring another easy three-point shot.
“Promises, promises,” he grumbled under his breath. He’d always had a thing for her. And he blew his chance.
“What?” I stopped dribbling the ball.
“Nothing. I didn’t say anything,” he said, holding his hands up. I knew about him. He was like me, and guys like us did not get women like Frankie. We weren’t the type to give a woman anything other than a great round of sex, maybe two. We doled out more orgasms than a woman ever experienced and a shit ton of stories to tell her girlfriends. We weren’t cut out for anything more than that. And I knew Frankie didn’t go for wham bam thank you ma’am, even though she did own a sex club.
“I hope not. You know she’s off limits,” I said, checking the ball into his stomach, my pulse racing. She was like a sister to me. He doubled over, breath wheezing out. Oh shit. “Sorry man,” I said, patting him on the back. He shrugged out from under my hand and shot me a glare.
“What the fuck, man? What the hell is your problem? You think I’m going to touch Frankie? Like she’d let me anywhere near her. I’m not stupid, okay? Why are you being even more of an asshole than usual?”