Slick as Ides

by Chanse Lowell

  “You there?” she asks, answering my call.

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Yeah, and he’s here, too. Wanna talk to him?” she asks.

  I exhale through my nostrils, and it’s a whiny, unpleasant sound. “Sure.”

  “’Kay—hold on a sec,” she replies and there’s a shifting of the phone.

  I can’t believe this.

  I can’t believe this worked.

  “Dena?” he asks.

  “Yeah, Dad, I’m here, and he’s on his way. You out and safe?”

  “Yeah, thanks to you.” He laughs and it’s an exhilarated, triumphant sound. “I’m so sorry for everything. I never meant for you to get dragged into all my dealings.”

  “Well, it wasn’t just you. This prick named Stephen, your long lost best friend and secret enemy, was trying to take over your business. Everything you sold, one of his associates bought, and he’s the one that screwed you over, not me. The FBI was already watching you, so if I hadn’t trapped you when I did, turns out he would’ve and you would’ve gone to a much higher security-prison,” I tell him. And he probably would’ve gotten a much longer sentence, too.

  “I can’t believe you were able to get me out,” he says.

  “It’s legal,” I remind him.

  “So you say—sounded made up if you ask me.” His voice is tight.

  “I don’t care what you think, as long as you do one thing for me, and it also means all that money will be yours tomorrow,” I remind him. “My lawyer John will be contacting you soon.”

  “What happened to Jason? I thought he was the one handling the account?”

  I sigh, and bunch my fist at my side. “Turns out he had some ideas of his own on how to handle the funds. He and my previous lawyer, Riot, were trying to put in a little loophole to funnel that money for you, back into my company without my knowing it. I wasn’t real thrilled about their plan. It’s your money. I don’t want it. Just take care of yourself, and enjoy your life.” I pause and inhale. “I think it goes without saying, you might not want to share this with his girlfriend, accompanying you right now. And make sure you destroy and throw away this phone as soon as this call ends.”

  He sighs, now, too, but when he does it, the fucker sounds thrilled and happy beyond belief. Almost like he’s catching some fresh air. I’m sure he is, but I’m not entirely certain I want to experience this with him over the phone. “You have no idea what this means to me, and don’t you worry—I’ll stop him. Stephen won’t know what hit him.”

  “He’s on his way now, the chip’s here and it’s ready.” I rub my eyes with my free hand. Why do I feel so exhausted already? And why hadn’t I taken care of Stephen before now? I was in his house weeks ago. I could’ve done this then, but I was unprepared when he had some of his dudes come and force me to get in his car.

  “This’ll work. Don’t even stress about it for a second,” he says.

  “I’ll stop worrying once it’s over. Take him down, Dad, and then you disappear. I don’t ever wanna see you or him again.” I end the call with my nerves shooting straight into my brain, giving me a migraine.

  A few minutes later, Lexi texts me to tell me my father’s crying.

  Fuck. I can’t think about that now.

  I sit on the bed, restless inside, and about to crawl the walls like some lunatic superhero—not the cool kind like Spiderman. He was smart. And at least he knew about germs on walls and always wore gloves.

  He made cool webs, too.

  Well, I make my own webs, and Stephen’s about to step into mine.

  A half hour later, I hear the door open in the next room over, and I know it’s him when I hear a clear, aggravated, “Awwww fuck!”

  Smaaaaash!

  He’s thrown something, or broken something.

  And then that’s right—he touches it.

  “Bingo,” I whisper and my eyes light up, my eyebrows dance on my head, and I’m singing some kind of dorky song I make up on the spot, about, “Bitch, I just smacked you down!”

  I text Lexi. Got it?

  She replies right away, Got his DNA and then some. He spit on it and touched it.

  One of the things about Stephen? He’s been very careful to always keep his hands clean.

  Well, his computer wasn’t totally spotless.

  He kept detailed records of all the items he bought that my father stole from me, and detailed records of everything my father ever did that was illegal.

  The micro-trackers I planted in that chip, hoping he’d smash it, are now being inhaled by him and anyone that’s with him.

  It’s in the air. When he runs and I turn his records in, I’ll be able to track this asshole down.

  Fucker’s mine. Or my dad’s. I don’t care how they choose to destroy each other, as long as Nick and I are now out of it.

  They’re mafia-like wars don’t concern me.

  I wait for them to leave, text Westin to make sure he and Nick are well on their way, and then I’m out the door, checking us both out of our rooms.

  Nick’s motorcycle is easy to spot.

  I get on, and shit, I suck at driving this monstrosity.

  I wobble down the road for a few minutes as I get the hang of driving Nick’s mountainous bike.

  I’ve driven crotch rockets, but not crotch bombs. This thing’s massive and a beast to handle.

  Once I’m outside of San Diego, I’ve caught on, and I’m able to sell his bike, upgrade it with cash for a new one and pay them off to seal up the record of sale so no one will ever know I’m the one that bought it.

  * * *

  “I can’t do this,” Riot whines in the phone as I pick at my dinner later that night.

  “I told you to only call for emergencies.”

  “It is an emergency.” He sniffles.

  “What’s going on?” I toss my napkin down next to my plate. I’ve lost my appetite.

  “She’s got some other guy here. I think it’s her boyfriend. What’m I supposed to do? I don’t want to hang around and get in the way. What if they go back to her room and I have to listen to them having sex?”

  I laugh. “Are you shitting me? She’s really into you, and she’s single. She doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Well, there’s a really good looking guy here and he’s definitely checking her out. She looks like she’s interested in him, too. Forget it. I’m out of here. I’m going back to your place in L.A.” His voice is shaky, kind of like my stomach at this point.

  “Put. Her. On. The. Phone. I’ll fix this,” I say through my teeth.

  He makes a grunting noise, and I can tell it’s just about killing him to do this and face her.

  “Hey, Ides,” Stormy answers a moment later.

  “Hey, what’s going on? He thinks he’s in the way,” I tell her.

  “He’s not. I was making sure he was comfortable. This is my dealer.”

  “Dealer? Hold on—Riot’s not a druggie.” I motion for the waitress to bring me the check. “He doesn’t even drink soda. Well, except right before we left my place, but that’s not normal for him.”

  “No, silly, not drugs. I’m talking about cutting-edge shit. I could tell he was missing his electronics, so I was hooking him up with some newer gear.” She chuckles and then whispers, “I really like him. I want him to feel the same about me.”

  I laugh. “Damn, you’re both trying too hard. Just kiss him and get it over with. Then he’ll quit wondering. You don’t have to buy him anything. He’s fine. He gets fidgety when he’s into a woman.”

  “Here,” she says her voice far from the phone. “I want you to have this, Riot. I got this for you. That’s why he was here.”

  There’s some muffled curse in the background and then the unmistakable sounds of kissing.

  The phone clatters on their end.

  I hang up and sigh.

  I’m tempted to throw the phone out since I doubt he’ll need it from this point on, but instead I pocket it just in case.

 
I switch phones and call up Westin once more.

  “He’s driving me nuts. How much longer ‘til you get here?” Westin answers.

  “Soon. I had to take care of a few things. I’ve gotta get Ty squared away, so I’ll make one more stop, and then I’ll be there. I’m also calling you to make sure my dad’s okay. Has Lexi reported back to you like I asked her to?” I couldn’t stand to hear any more about my dad’s tears. It was too confusing and yanking my heart around, so I turned it over to Westin to deal with.

  “She did, and he’s fine. I talked to him as well. Just get over here. I’m not kidding.” Nick yells some profanities in the background, and Westin chuckles. “You hearing this asshole? Get over here or there won’t be a wall still in place. He’s already busted a chair. He’s fucking pissed. I’ve been hiding out on the deck. Fucker’s got a temper on him.”

  “Don’t worry. He wouldn’t ever hurt you.” I smile.

  “Yeah, yeah, easy for you to say when you’re miles away and carry around his favorite pair of boobs. I don’t have anything to offer him other than my fist, and I don’t like using them unless I absolutely have to.”

  I laugh. “You’ve probably got twenty pounds of muscle on him. You’re huge, Westin. What’re you worried about?”

  “I’m not ready to slit someone’s throat like a raging lunatic like he is. Plus, I may be huge, but I’m a pacifist in a lot of ways. I don’t like causing people pain. You already know what a wimp I am.”

  I laugh harder. “Yes, I sure do.”

  I pull out my wallet, grab some cash and put it in the billfold for the waitress, along with a generous tip.

  “No fistfights. I want his face as pretty as it was when I saw him several hours ago.” I move out to my new vehicle. “Stay away from him and wait it out.”

  “Ah shit. He’s breaking more stuff. Gotta go.”

  The line goes dead, and I take off a moment later down the road, smiling wider than ever.

  Love me some passionate Vapor.

  One more stop, and then he’s mine.

  I pull up in front of the lingerie shop twenty minutes later, and I can barely blink since it seems surreal I’m about to step inside and buy something other than black cotton panties with matching bra. I can’t think about how more than one woman might put her crotch on the same pair of panties when trying a pair on.

  Chills of disgust race up and down my spine, like rollers with spikes, hitting nerves as they go. Fuck. So creepy!

  The second I’m inside, a stiff cool breeze hits me and my arms break out in goose bumps.

  I can do this . . . I can do this for him.

  No, I can’t!

  I turn around to leave, but a voice calls out, “Oh, no you don’t! Get in here.”

  There is a moment I think they might physically contact me, but I’m able to sidestep them. “Okay, I’ll do it. Just don’t touch me—either one of you.”

  “Good thinking because if you try to leave again, I’ll have to manhandle you.” He grins.

  “Ty, you can go now.” I frown.

  “No way. I’m staying.” He smirks when I turn to him.

  “You’ve already set this up, so I don’t need you anymore.” I glare at him and the woman standing behind him.

  “This is my sister—Lora. Say hi,” he tells me, his right brow quirked up.

  “Hi, Lora. Can I kick him out the door now? We used to date, so this is really awkward. I don’t want him here while I’m buying lingerie I’ll be wearing for someone else.”

  “Jesus, Ty, that’s low. Get lost. You’re not allowed to be here now that I know all this.” She pushes him out the front door as he sputters and tries to protest.

  She locks him out, waves, and a moment of relief hits me until she picks up something lacy and pink.

  “Uh, I may need a toilet because my meal may not stay down,” I say, my stomach turning into a swamp of bile.

  She looks me over. “Black’s slimming, hon, but you’d look so soft and sweet in pink. Men love how feminine it is.”

  “I might look breakable in pink, and I’d feel like an idiot.”

  She holds it out to me. “You never know. Try it on, and don’t think about how you feel. Think about what he wants from you.”

  “Just to be clear—we’re not talking about Ty, right?”

  “Hell no! He drives me nuts. He’s always messing with people. It’s time he quits being so immature.” She chuckles, points to the dressing room, and I’m off with something pink. “I know not to touch you, and I’ve cleaned the first dressing room to your specifications, so you can feel as comfortable as possible. I’m also only handing you pieces that I just pulled out of their packaging, so no one else has touched them in the store. Get moving.”

  What the fuck has happened to me?

  What has Nick done to me that I’m reduced to this? Lingerie shopping. The words reek of lunacy.

  My head swims as I shut the door to the dressing room, and I break out into a sweat as I strip myself of all I know.

  Lord, please help me figure out how to even think pink and girlie and seductive.

  I may need to take up drinking after this . . .

  Maybe a pink, fizzy, fruity, girlie drink might help. At least my crotch won’t be involved with that.

  Chapter 20

  Vapor

  “Why am I in Aspen with your pansy-ass?” I ask Westin, rubbing at my temples.

  I just threw his bag at him, and I’m still breathing hard. The prick deserved it, since he won’t tell me what’s going on.

  “Take it easy, you’re still getting over what happened to you,” he says, eyes wide and backing away from me.

  “What happened to me then? Are you gonna finally fucking tell me?” I push my bangs off my sweaty forehead.

  “I can’t. Not yet. It’s orders.” He puts his palms in front of his chest. “But you’re safe, so stop freaking out.”

  I don’t remember drinking, but I sure as shit feel hungover. My energy’s sapped today, and I can’t seem to stop flying into a rage.

  Where the hell is she? Why am I here?

  Questions pound in my head along with the pressure from exerting myself as I threw shit at his head moments ago.

  “Tell me something—anything.” My throat aches as I try to calm my breathing down.

  “I brought you here—I already told you, Dena’s gonna meet you, and I’ll leave as soon as she arrives. Then you two can make clown-hacker babies or whatever it is you plan to do with her now that you’ve gone all good-guy and don’t steal shit anymore.” He smiles.

  “Whatever,” I say. He’s shitting me. Gotta be.

  His phone vibrates and he answers it. “Hiya.”

  I roll my eyes and sip my coffee. My hand shakes as I wrap my hands around the mug.

  “No way! You sold his fucking bike? He’s gonna kill you. Maybe you should take the scenic route to give him some time to cool down.”

  I spit my coffee out. I’m in his face and rip the phone out of his hand. “You did what?”

  “I can explain,” she says, her voice all sexy and silky as fuck.

  I turn away from Westin, and I’m pacing right away. I’m half hard already just off her voice.

  “And I’ve got a surprise for you to hopefully cushion the blow,” she says, voice shaky.

  “Explain why you’re there, and I’m here. Why aren’t you with me?” I almost yell.

  “Calm down, baby. I can explain everything. Sit down, grab something to drink, and I’ll tell you what’s going on, since I’m sure Westin’s already fucked it up.”

  I head out to the deck for some privacy so Westin won’t listen to my conversation, but the fucker follows me out with my coffee in his hands. He places it on the table and then takes up a spot far from me, against the deck railing.

  “He has royally fucked it up like you wouldn’t believe. I hate being here with him. He likes the cold at night and in the early morning, and he won’t fucking turn the heat on. Every time I
put it on, he turns it off. The dude’s a polar bear in disguise.” I nod even though she can’t see it.

  “Drink your coffee,” she says. “It’ll warm you up.”

  “Coffee? How’d you . . . ?” My head whips around from side to side. We’re out on the back patio of a secluded rental cabin.

  “Yeah, your coffee, and why are you barefoot out here? Animals piss all over these decks. The germs!”

  I chuckle. “What else am I already doing that’s pissing you off and turning you on?”

  “Well, you do look rather edible in those black jeans, but then that’s not fair. You know I’m partial to that color.” I can hear the smirk in her voice.

  “Oh, you nasty girl, you always know just what to say.” I chuckle, lean back into the chair and take a drink. “I’d touch myself, but no telling what Westin might do. See how fucked up this situation is? You’re away from me and taunting me. Not nice.”

  Where is she? If she sees me, does that mean I can possibly find her if I look hard enough? Or does she have some kind of hidden camera on me as usual.

  That woman’s very voyeuristic.

  “What if I say I’m trying very hard to be nice? I’m so sorry, sweetheart, but I have to tell you this—your father’s dying.”

  “Wh-what?” I choke on my drink, spraying it once more.

  “Well, he’s hurt pretty badly. He’s in the hospital,” she says, voice faint and sympathetic. “I’m so sorry, Nick . . . And I had to sell your bike so he couldn’t find us, but I didn’t know my dad would do what he did so quickly . . .” She sniffs hard. Jesus, is she crying?

  “Where. Are. You? I need to see you right now,” I say, gripping the edge of the table in front of me. “Please fucking tell me you’re nearby, or I swear to God I’ll—”

  Cliiiick.

  The phone line goes dead, and when I turn around, the door opens. She steps out, looking sad and disheveled.

  Westin goes inside, leaving us alone.

  “I’m sorry. Do you hate me?” Tears stream down her cheeks.