by Jayce, Aven
I pull my hand away and step back, slightly humiliated. I’ve only felt Mera’s chest in the past. She’s been the only woman I’ve been comfortable with, and she doesn’t have massive behemoth tits like this woman.
“This your first time, Miss Sara?”
“No. I’ve been with a woman before.”
“No, girlie,” she laughs. “I meant your first time to one of Paul Jameson’s expos?”
“Yes, it is,” Cove steps in, as I feel more and more uncomfortable. “Now if you’d excuse us, we have…”
“Oh, Star. You’re always in a rush, when you gonna slow down and really enjoy some of us hotties?”
“Aundrea, I have an appointment.”
“No you don’t, you shit. Show some respect to her. If I remember correctly, she’s been more than kind to you in the past,” Doron says, placing a hand on his shoulder. Cove is visibly uncomfortable, trying not to look at either one of them. Instead, he scans the room, in search of our goal for the evening. Doron fidgets, pulling on the cuffs of his suit coat, just like Cove had mentioned. He moves constantly, unable to relax. I can tell that neither one of them wants to be here, but Aundrea, she’s a whole other story.
I watch as she waddles over to Cove, sliding her finger across his chest and around to his back. At about five feet tall and over one hundred and fifty pounds, she’s plump, reminding me of a Heirloom tomato. Her hair is red, with braids of silver streamers, and when she moves they flicker like an exploding firecracker. Her fingernails are painted a bright red and her miniscule thong disappears under a roll of fat. She looks completely naked, and she has her hands all over my man. Doron and her both made it sound like Cove’s been with her, and I can’t imagine she’s from my father’s company. She’s not the Caciocavallo Podolico type, and more like cheddar, as Cove would say.
Cove completely ignores her, his eyes cold, as he stares straight ahead. I look up and see my father in the distance, seated on a stage in the corner of the room. He’s at a round table with a man next to him and two other people across. No question Dayne is by his side and they both look directly at Cove. My armpits drip with sweat and a chill shoots through my body. The combination of the two is a sure sign of a panic attack about to strike.
Cove takes my hand and steps hurriedly past Aundrea, pushes Doron to the side, and heads toward my father.
“Let me know when you’re ready to party again, Star,” Aundrea yells. I look back and she blows me a kiss.
“Don’t look at her,” he says. “Try to forget that just happened.”
“I thought my father had high-end products?”
“She was high-end, six years ago. Paul dropped her after she gained twenty pounds. Now it looks like she’s gained another thirty. I don’t know who she works for now.”
“What the fuck?” Doron says, catching up to us. “Paul’s in the middle of dinner with clients, you can’t just walk up to that area.”
I can see as we approach the stage that there are other people seated at tables around my father, and the area is roped off to the public.
“He can leave his private dinner party for a moment.”
“Do you want your face bashed in again?” Doron pants, barely keeping up with us. “I’ll bring him a message, but I can’t allow you to go any further.”
Cove stops, looking Doron in the eye. “You need to stop smoking. Listen to you wheeze and pant. You know I could run to that table and sit down next to Paul before you even moved two feet. You’re not a good watchman, Doron.”
“Bodyguard, and I may not be able to outrun you, but I can still beat the shit out of you, so you won’t. You won’t run.”
Cove turns and looks at me, squeezing my hand. “I have precious cargo with me, so no, I won’t.”
The three of us turn our heads to the table. They still have their eyes on Cove. My father leans back, smacks Dayne’s shoulder, and whispers into his ear. He never takes his eyes away from us. Dayne stands, buttons his dark blue pinstripe sport jacket, adjusts his blue tie, and excuses himself from the table. I immediately see and feel the difference in the two Rosen brothers. Doron shuffles his feet, looks at the floor and back up at my father. He’s insecure, where the man walking this way has his eyes on Cove’s face, and only on his face. He walks with a purpose, shoulders back, fists clenched. His hair is slightly shorter than his brother’s, but they both have the same perfect teeth and the dark beady eyes of a rodent. He’s threatening, and not someone I’d ever want to cross.
Doron walks toward him and when they pass each other, Dayne slaps his brother on the shoulder. Doron nearly trips, but catches himself and takes Dayne’s place on the stage next to Paul. They’re like a comedy team, but only one of them is remotely amusing.
“What do you want?” Dayne asks in a harsh voice.
“You know why I’m here,” Cove responds.
Dayne’s phone beeps and he looks at the screen, then down at our hands.
Cove gets the drift and releases my hand. “Please forgive me,” he whispers.
“You’re not welcome here, I don’t know what you think…”
“Dayne.”
“You douchebag,” Dayne growls, grabbing Cove by his collar. “Don’t fucking interrupt me.”
Cove relaxes and surrenders himself to him.
“That’s better. Now, I don’t know why you’re here, but we have a dinner party that you’ve interrupted,” he says, releasing Cove’s shirt and straightening his tie. Cove doesn’t move, allowing Dayne to fix his clothing.
“I want to talk to Mera,” I say, unable to keep quiet like Cove had requested. “Where is she?”
Dayne steps away from Cove and turns to me. He shakes his head, aggravated by the disruption. “You haven’t trained her, have you?” he asks, placing two fingers under my chin and lifting my head. His phone beeps again and he looks down then quickly removes his hand from my body.
“Tell me what you want, now. Paul wants to know, and then he wants you out of here.”
“Tell him I’m here to please him,” Cove responds, standing straight with his hands clasped behind his back.
“One last time. I won’t do this back and forth shit. Exact words, what do you want? Say it now or I’ll take you to that back corridor.”
“Tell him I want an exchange. I’ll give him Blackjack for Mera.”
“Who the hell is Blackjack?” I ask, completely confused by his words.
Dayne laughs and cracks his knuckles. “If you think I’ll let that new house whore go that easily….”
“Tell him,” Cove requests.
Dayne looks back at my father who still has his eyes on Cove. He hasn’t looked at me, and if our friend Brutus weren’t next to us, I’d walk on that stage and give him a piece of my mind.
Dayne sends a text and my father finally turns away, looking at his phone. He leans back in his chair and looks at Cove, his eyes squint, his fingers tap the table. He whispers to Doron who takes my father’s phone and sends a text back.
Dayne frowns. “Tomorrow. Be at the office. Bring proof. Nine in the morning.” He places his phone in his pocket and starts to turn and walk away, then hesitates and places a hand on Cove’s shoulder.
“Remember, this isn’t just up to Paul. Not this time.”
“I can get you another.”
“No. There’s more to it than that. You’re in my game now,” he replies, standing with his feet apart, and his hands clasped in front of his groin. Cove gets the point that it’s time to leave. He tips his hat toward my father and places his hand on my back, leading me away. I turn around, but my father is already in a conversation with the men at his table. He glances my way for a second then back at his clients, giving no inclination that he’s still my dad.
“We didn’t even get to talk to him,” I whine.
“Yes, we did. It was a good meeting. We’ll be able to speak to him in person in the morning.”
“Well, I don’t think it went well at all. Where’s Mera? When do I g
et to see her? And who the fuck is Blackjack? You’ve kept secrets from me again, you shithead.”
“Soph,” he stops, taking both my hands and pulling me close to him. “Look at me.”
I look up into his eyes and he smiles. His face is warm and loving and I immediately relax.
“I want you to chill out for a moment. Take a deep breath with me.”
We stand in silence, inhale and exhale deep breaths of air. “I love you, and I’d kiss you right now if your father wasn’t so close,” he says. “Mera’s safe. She’s at the house.”
“How do you know that? And who’s there with her?”
“They’d never bring their house… they wouldn’t bring her here. She’s home, I guarantee you she’s probably watching a movie or reading in her room.”
“Mera doesn’t read, and that’s not her home. Don’t say she’s home,” I say, furiously.
Cove smiles and exhales, speaking to me in a calm and quiet voice. “Well then she’s in the pool having a late night swim. She’s okay. You’ll see her tomorrow.”
“Don’t make shit up so that I calm down. I don’t appreciate that you lied to me,” I say, twisting the corner of my mouth in spite of his kind words. He’s trying to make me feel better so I don’t have another panic attack, but at the same time he doesn’t have to treat me like a four-year-old.
“Who’s Blackjack, Cove?”
He ignores me and searches for the exit. “This way,” he says, pulling my hand to follow him. I escape his grasp, pissed that he won’t answer my question.
“Fuck you,” I shout, shooting him my middle finger as I walk quickly away.
“Wait,” he demands. “Hold on a second.” He grabs my arm and spins me around, an apology flashed on his face. “Blackjack is off limits.”
“Then so am I,” I snarl, trying to escape. His hand is tight and I’m not allowed my freedom.
“Trouble in paradise?” A familiar voice cuts in.
“Dad,” I whisper.
“Hey, Kiddo. Come here.”
I look at Cove whose face is wrought with anger.
“Star, take your hand off this young woman, and do it quickly.”
A crowd starts to form and the Fox Palace Expo Hall is suddenly quiet. All the flashes of cameras, the autographs, and the excitement have come to a stop. Dayne appears next to Cove, ready to attack at my father’s request.
“Give him a moment to make his decision, Dayne, I think it will be the right one if he considers all the fans we have here this evening.”
He releases me, takes off his hat, and kneels in front of my father. I’m disturbed at the sight, suddenly nauseous and empty. Cove surrendering to him in front of all these people cuts deep into my heart and I start to walk away from them both.
“Miss?” my father calls out, keeping my identity a secret. “Do you see how powerless this man is? Do you see him here on his knees, surrendering himself to me?”
I turn to see Cove motionless, his head down, eyes closed. A grown man conditioned to bow to my father at a moment’s notice. I want to drag him out of here. Deep down I know he needs to do it on his own. He needs to tell my father to fuck off, and then he needs to stand and get on with his life. Stand up, Cove. Stand up. I want to say it, but then I’ll become my father. I don’t want to control him, or for him to follow me. I want him to be his own person, separate from Jameson Industries, and apart from NOVA… Stand up.
My father wears the sort of evil grin that one would only come across on a cartoon villain. My body tenses as I look into his eyes; those reddish brown eyes the two of us share. That’s the only thing we have in common and I can sense that he’s angry that we’re here. I decide to turn and leave. I don’t need to be a part of this. I know where he lives. I can go and get Mera right now, on my own.
“The house is locked and she’s in safe hands for the evening. Don’t even think about going there.”
I stop, my back still turned to them. How the fuck did he know what I was thinking?
“Besides, Kiddo. She’s happy.”
I clench my fists at his words, wanting to turn around and lunge at him, screaming, arms swinging, knocking him to the ground. Instead, I continue to leave, and whisper my hatred for him. “Fuck you, Dad.”
“Did you hear that?” someone in the crowd says.
“Is that his daughter? Is she a Jameson? I didn’t know Paul had a daughter,” people whisper, as cameras flash around me. “She came in with Star. Is she in the business?”
I disappear around a corner and squeeze my way through flesh and breasts, walking quickly by Aundrea, past the blowjob still in progress, past the display of vaginas, past big titty woman, and out the door. I race to the elevator. The door begins to close and I reach it just in time, pushing the first floor button repeatedly until I’m out of the underground level.
I shouldn’t be so hard on Cove. I understand that he’s stuck in the middle of trying to keep our relationship intact, helping me with Mera, dealing with my father, and trying to shield his family from further harm. I just wish he wasn’t so secretive about everything. It’s hard to trust people who aren’t forthcoming, especially in our situation. He needs to tell me what this plan he has is about. Who is Blackjack and how will that exchange get Mera back? I should turn around and demand answers, but I shouldn’t have to ask. God dammit! My mind races a mile a minute. I need to go for a walk first and clear my head. Then I’ll go back and discuss this with him.
The elevator dings and the door opens. I eagerly leave my father’s casino, stepping out onto the strip. My legs hurt from the hours Cove and I walked today, but I can’t let that slow me down. I need to continue to move. I’m sure a few people will follow me from the expo, in search of more information about my relationship to Cove, and if Paul Jameson really is my father. I need to blend in with the other tourists.
I head South, not sure of my final destination. I have no desire to go back to our room, and I know I can’t get to Mera. If I had the keys to our rental I’d probably head back to Wayne and Lydia’s. I need someone to talk to and I know they’d comfort me. But that’s a fantasy world. Fuck, I should just call Mera.
I take out my phone and touch her smiling face, placing the call as I continue to walk. It goes to her voicemail.
“Mera, I miss you. I hope you’re okay. I’m worried about you. Call me. I need to talk to you.”
I hang up, not feeling any better. Without Mera in my life I’m limited as to whom I can call for support. I flip through my contacts: Mom, my brother Mark, Cove, Dad, Evan, Leondra. Leondra? I didn’t put her number in my phone. I wonder if Cove placed it in or if she did it on her own. I think about Evan for a brief moment, but my phone reads nine o’clock. I know from our relationship with one another that Sunday evenings are movie nights, and I don’t want to interrupt his time with his new girlfriend.
Frustrated, I put my phone away and decide to stick with my original desire to be alone. Cove and I have spent the entire day chatting back and forth, leaving little time for me to reflect.
I walk across an overpass of Las Vegas Boulevard, ending up in front of Caesars Palace. The streets are busy this time of the night, and the strip is alive with drunken fools. People on their way to get married, people in newly wedded bliss, groups of friends out for a good time, and a few loners most likely here to gamble.
Tiffany and Company is on the corner and I laugh at the thought that Cove wants us to be husband and wife. We have a lot of hurdles to get over before that will ever happen. I should have stayed and helped him. I’m such a bitch sometimes. God, what am I doing out here anyway?
I see the water of the Bellagio fountain straight ahead. My feet can’t move fast enough to get back to that beautiful spot that took my breath away earlier today. Cove’s right, even from this distance I can see how extraordinary it is at night compared to the day. The lights of the city, and the lights in the fountain itself are radiant, glowing, moving, and changing colors. I find a bench and sit, tilti
ng my head way back to see the water stretch high into the dark sky. Wow. Pretty.
I smile as Luck Be A Lady, sung by Frank Sinatra, plays and the tourists in front of the fountain place their arms around their partner’s backs, some jokingly grab at one another’s asses. The water dances to the music and a few people mimic the swaying, bopping, twirling display, reaching their arms up and spinning their bodies to the sights and sounds before them. I’m at ease… and can finally think.
I’ve done my usual Sophia Jameson escape artist act from the Fox Palace. When I’m in a difficult situation my first inclination is to leave. Walk away. Disappear and run from the problem. I guess that’s one thing I’ve picked up from my mother, ignore the situation and it will all be fine. Let it go, leave it alone, or deny that it even happened. I’ve never been a fighter per se. When my fight or flight kicks in I’ve always chosen flight. I hid from my mother often as a child. Then I walked away from reality as a teenager, giving my body freely in exchange for a few hours of pleasure. Hell, for even a few minutes. It was an escape. I concealed my abortion from everyone except Mera, didn’t want to take responsibility for my carelessness, and time after time I’ve chosen to escape life. It’s easier to run. Even the other day when I mentioned to Mera that I might go underground for a while is an example of how pathetic I am. I’d rather hole up than stand up, and there I was, a few minutes ago, first walking away from Cove when he wouldn’t explain things to me, then wanting him to leave my father’s side. Stand up.
The water dances and glows gold as the sounds change from Sinatra to Christmas music. Holiday music always radiates a warm feeling deep in my heart and although it isn’t even Thanksgiving, I’m still immediately consumed by the thought of spending that time with the people I love.
My phone rings and displays an unknown number. I wonder if that’s Mera?
“Hello?”
“Sophia,” a familiar voice says. “Where are you?”
“Devery… why are you calling me?”
“I’m worried about you. I’m sorry that I hung up yesterday. Something came up. Are you okay?”