She checked into a facility and thirty days later was on my payroll. Filled with more confidence than most women I know, she found a new Dom who treats her better than the old one ever did, and Emily is pleasantly flogged on a nightly basis.
Leland declines the offer of breakfast. “Mike, can you come back in five with a coffee refill?” Leland used to work for one of the largest PR firms in Hollywood. That is, until he was caught fucking his boss’s wife. His boss, one of the most powerful men in the industry, promised Leland his name would be dirt. It would’ve been had I not come along. I dug around a bit and found some tidbits that would tilt his boss’s world. Leland separated from the company on “good terms” and I offered him a job on the condition he’d leave the wife alone, which he graciously accepted. He’s been with me ever since.
I ask Mike for an extra breakfast while Misha, who appears meek, nods her thanks for the breakfast and coffee he just placed on the table before her. Appearances are oftentimes deceiving because everyone in LA knows she’s one of the most vicious attorneys around. It’s the reason I wanted her on my team.
Misha found herself in a bind a couple of years ago. She was happily married, or so everyone thought, until her husband stumbled upon some videos of her getting her kink on with another woman. She didn’t want him to know she was bisexual, so she hid that side of her life from him. He wasn’t too pleased about it and threatened to post the videos on YouTube. She freaked and they got into a huge fight, during which she punched him and broke his nose. Did I mention that Misha had anger issues? The YouTube upload threat turned into a lawsuit of abuse and assault. That’s how Misha landed in my office, asking for my help.
After my intervention, Misha ended up with an amicable divorce, even though she took a hit financially. It turned out in her favor though, because she’s made up for it with the salary and bonus I pay her. However, she had to agree to anger management therapy, which she happily did. I saw a sparkling star in her and knew once her issues were resolved, Misha would be an exemplary coworker.
If this jet were to crash, the Hollywood entertainment industry would be in a serious jam because there would be no one worth a shit to rectify their fuckups.
My thoughts tumble back to Midnight Drake. Usually I don’t have such emotionally charged feelings, but the way this woman was exploited is a million kinds of wrong. Midnight Drake is an actor who landed a nice contract with Alta, and these fuckers are trying to ruin her chances of making it big. They won’t if I can help it. This team will stop whoever did this and make them pay.
My phone beeps with a text from Leland. I open it to find all the videos have loaded. I nearly choke on my coffee when I watch the first one. Holy motherfucker. These are worse than hardcore. I feel sick knowing I just witnessed my client getting raped.
“Gather round, team. Our status has just changed to DEFCON 1.” Then I press play. The women are disgusted and pissed off, even though these ladies are tough as nails. But I want them angry, and by the last video’s end, my goal has been accomplished.
Misha flies out of her seat. “Harrison, I want to personally cut their balls off. Look at her! She’s nearly unconscious there. That’s disgusting. What’s worse is I don’t know how anyone would want to watch such depraved shit.”
Emily takes over where Misha leaves off. “What she said. What slimy assholes! And how could that other woman have participated? Let me get my hands on them. I will personally rip their dicks off.”
“Okay, ladies, let’s pull it together. While I want to harness your anger, we need our best brainpower and I won’t get that if you don’t act rationally. Calm down and keep watching.”
We focus on the videos. A necessary evil, you might say, but we have to analyze them if we’re to do our jobs.
“Here’s where we may have a problem,” I say. In one part, Midnight is cooperating and even asking for more. “Harder. Yes, yes,” she says.
Emily nods in disgust. “It’s like she’s dazed but wants it.”
“It’s the drugs,” Misha says. “Look at her face.”
There’s no doubt. “Whatever they gave her must’ve been good,” Emily says.
When the videos are done, I explain what Rashid said. “You both know he’s a bloodhound when I put him on a task. I also want to find out where Midnight went so we can check any security tapes. They should show us something. It’ll help so when Rashid finds their phones, it’ll be easier to ID these guys. We can have one of the guys bring them in. We’ll ... take care of them appropriately.”
Misha’s brows shoot up. “Does that entail being on the bottom of the East River?”
“Our role is to clean things up for Midnight and get everything back on track for her. Find out what Midnight’s contract states and if Alta can drop her. She may have a morality clause or something.”
Misha’s chest still heaves with anger, but she nods.
Emily says, “Yeah, Midnight is our mission. We can’t let our anger get in the way of that. We can worry about those dickfaces later.”
Now that they’re refocused, I say, “Right. So, this is what we need. Emily, work on getting her into rehab. People are very forgiving about someone with a drug problem.”
Emily’s brow furrows. “But that’s admitting she has one when she doesn’t.”
“Let’s take a step back a minute. Remember, we have to keep our feelings and emotions out of this. It’s our job to fix this mess, to find a solution. Plan A is to get her to go to the police. If you were raped like this, wouldn’t that be the first thing you did? Since she didn’t do it on her own, we can only assume there’s a reason for that. We’ll still try to get her to go, but if she refuses, we can’t force her. We’ll need a back-up plan. So, then ask yourselves the question—what’s the best way to clean this up? What’s the best way to get her career back on track? It’s not whether we agree or disagree, it’s whether or not this will work.”
When I see them nod in agreement, I continue.
“Let’s think. We have a huge issue with the videos. Even though they were pulled, they were up long enough for people to have screenshots or GIFs of that shit. Their impressions are solid. We’re going with the worst-case scenario. We can say she doesn’t have a problem until we’re blue-faced, but people who’ve seen them won’t believe us and Midnight needs credibility. The best way to move forward is to ask forgiveness. But in the meantime, Misha, we need to find those men if we can. I want motive. When Midnight gets out in thirty days, we want the public dying to see her. They will hopefully crawl all over her and want her back just like they want icing on cake. If Alta drops her, our job is to get them down on their hands and knees, and beg her to come back. Oh, and Leland, get to work on her speech. Relate it somehow to her tragic childhood. Do we know anything about that? If not, dig up something. I don’t care if it’s about a guppy that died and she never grieved appropriately. Make it emotional as shit. We want this all in place as Plan B just in case we need to implement it.”
The team goes to work, while I do a little research on Midnight. She started out in B-rated films, like most actors do, trying to get noticed. She got noticed, all right. With long black hair and unusual lavender eyes, she isn’t a raving beauty but she has an exotic appeal. Her seductiveness makes her unforgettable. There’s something about her that screams sex. Having been cast in the types of roles that not many mainstream actors usually want, Midnight is willing to spread her wings and try anything.
Then I stumble upon something that makes me do a double take. Born in Phoenix, her birth name was Velvet Summers.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I say out loud.
“What?” All eyes are on me as they ask.
“Did you know Midnight’s birth name was Velvet Summers?”
“Oh, that,” Leland says.
“How did I not know this?”
Misha shrugs. “Don’t know. Leland sent over a photocopy of her birth certificate. I thought you saw it.”
“Who th
e fuck names their kid Velvet Summers?” But after I say it, I think of my best friend, Weston—his wife’s name is Special. Who names a kid that?
Emily shrugs. “Yeah, people choose weird names.”
I keep reading and find some interesting facts. Midnight’s mother was an exotic dancer, and some reports listed her as a stripper. She also was known to have a drug problem. Midnight ended up in foster care but then fell off the radar when she was seventeen. It looks like she never even finished high school. Maybe she really did have a tragic upbringing. Her mother died ten years ago, when Midnight was only fourteen—probably why she ended up in foster care. There’s no mention of a father in the picture. The plot thickens.
Emily announces she’s gotten Midnight into one of the premier rehab facilities in the country. Located in Arizona, it has a spa-like atmosphere. She’ll be secluded from the Hollywood gossip and the rest of the world for a minimum of thirty days.
“It’s pricey, but worth it, I believe. The reviews are astounding,” Emily says.
“Good. We’ll drop her off on our flight back to LA,” I say.
Misha announces our legal team in New York is ready for us if we need them.
“Good work,” I say. “Hopefully, we’ll ID these people or at least track them with Rashid’s help. They didn’t show any faces in the videos, and they also wore condoms, so that cuts into our evidence. Maybe there will still be drugs left in Midnight’s system.”
I’m going to do my best at finding those fuckers who did this and making them pay—with or without the police.
Chapter 3
Harrison
Her form huddled on the chair in the hotel room’s corner doesn’t surprise me. I’m surprised she’s not wailing and freaking the fuck out.
I stretch out my hand. “Midnight, I’m Harrison Kirkland of The Solution. We’ll be handling your case here.”
A puff of air leaves her chest. “Okay.” Her ice-cold, trembling hand shakes mine. She feels fragile, as though her fingers will snap if I squeeze at all. “Do you think you can help?”
“I think so.”
Violet eyes dig into mine. I wonder if she wears contacts. That color looks artificial.
“First things first. I’m terribly sorry this has happened to you. It’s a horrible thing, and I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through. In order to help you, we’re going to be asking you some pointed questions. But first, have you showered?”
“No.” Her voice is so small and shaky.
In the gentlest voice possible, I say, “Good. That means there still may be evidence present. Midnight, we need to go to the police so we can report the crime.”
Her eyes dart around the room, as though she’s frantically searching for an escape hatch.
She rubs her arms like they’re freezing. “I-I can’t do that. No police.”
I pull up a chair and sit down next to her. “If we don’t report it, these guys may go free. My contacts here will search for them, but there are no guarantees we can find them.”
“I … I, uh, I just can’t go. Okay? No police.”
I quickly glance at Misha and Emily. They both shrug.
“Okay, but what if we call in one of the crime experts we deal with and see if he can get some DNA off you? Maybe under your fingernails. It might help us catch these guys.”
Jerky gestures accompany her trembling chin. “N-no.”
She needs to understand the importance of this. Leaning forward, I say, “Midnight, if we don’t report this soon, we may miss our window.”
She chews on her lip. “C-can I speak to you privately?”
“Sure. Everyone?” I flick my head toward the door. They clear the room, leaving the two of us alone.
Her voice is hesitant as she begins. “If … if I go to the police, it will expose something. Something from my past I don’t want to be revealed.”
“I understand. But the police will be our best option of catching these guys, if that’s what you want to have happen.”
Her lids flutter. “What I want is for this to go away … to disappear.”
“Right, and we’re going to help with that. But the police …”
Her mouth hardens. “No police.” She pauses. “This is hard to say … to tell you, and it’s something no one is aware of, Mr. Kirkland, but I used to work in the porn industry. If this gets out, I’m finished. Absolutely no police.” She jumps out of her chair and paces.
Shit. This can be a definite game-changer. “Okay, I understand. This is totally your call. I just don’t want you to regret not reporting this as a crime since you were a victim.”
She only nods.
“How long ago was this?” I ask.
“A couple of years.” Fuck. Not enough time for people to have forgotten her.
“How many films?”
“I don’t remember. I used a different name. Lusty Rhoades. I had blond hair and wore brown contacts, and I’ve changed my nose since then.”
“I see.” Lusty Rhoades. “So, as I see it, we have two choices. One is the police, which you are not in favor of, and two is damage control. That was to be Plan B, but I guess we go straight into that without the benefit of the police. Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”
“Yes. No police.” She stresses the words.
This will have to be her best option. If the police dig into her past, the porn part would be revealed, and then what would we do? People, being what they are, would say she deserved what she got.
“Let me bring the team back in, then. They have to be informed of this. Are you okay with that?” She nods.
Once we’re again assembled, I say, “Midnight has decided no police, so let’s get on with it. Midnight, I want to know every single thing you did yesterday, from the time you woke up to when this happened. Don’t leave out any detail, even when you urinated. Am I clear?”
Her mouth and eyes match in the way they form huge circles. “Everything?”
“Yes. It’s important. Emily, you ready?”
“Ready.”
Emily will record everything so we don’t miss any detail. I need to know if Midnight is a drug addict, or if she’s really an innocent victim.
“Start from the beginning,” I say.
She begins with her flight in from LA and progresses to her photo session.
“Then I went to dinner with Danny. The producer. Then we went to a club.”
“Which club?” She names the place and I tell Leland to send someone over there to check their security tapes.
Turning back to Midnight, I ask, “So, do you trust this Danny?”
“Yes. He left with another woman. I was dancing with some guy. He seemed nice enough.”
“Tell me about him. I want details.”
“Tall, blondish hair. I couldn’t see his eye color because it was too dim in the club. His name was John. I’m sure it was bogus. He had a nice voice. He wore jeans and a button-down shirt. Light blue, I think.”
“How tall?”
“I don’t know. I’m not good at that since I’m so short.”
“Can you try? We need a number.”
She squints at me and then motions with her hand. “Stand up.” I do, and so does she. “How tall are you?”
“Six two.”
“He was probably six feet, then.”
“Good. Was his hair thick, thin, balding?”
“Thin. Not thick like yours.”
“Any marks on his skin? Tattoos, moles, scars?”
“None that I could see. His sleeves were long. Were there any on the video that you noticed?”
“Unfortunately, the video only caught him from behind.”
She sits back down and I notice how she squirms and shrivels up in her chair.
I crouch down next to her. “Look, I know how uncomfortable this must be, but we’re only trying to figure out who did this and why. Midnight, we do have a plan, but if we can catch these assholes, get anything that might lead us to them, we
might stop this from happening again.”
Her expression is horrified. “Again? They would do this to me again?”
“They could do it to someone else, if not you specifically. That’s why we need to stop them. From what I saw, this doesn’t look like it was their first time. They didn’t leave any kind of trail. A novice would have.”
It turns out that Midnight is very cooperative. When she concludes with waking up on the bed, it’s my turn to go to work.
I don’t dance around the issue when I ask, “Have you ever used drugs in the past?”
“No, I don’t use drugs.”
“Ever?”
“No! I may have an occasional drink and I’ve smoked weed a time or two in the past, but I don’t do drugs.” She bends down, digs into her purse, and pulls out a handful of gummy bears.
“Misha, get her to pee in a cup for us. We need a drug screen.”
Midnight bolts out of her chair, eyes on fire. “I told you, I don’t do drugs.”
“Calm down. It’s a matter of us figuring out what they drugged you with,” I tell her.
“Oh,” she says. “Sorry.” Then she pops a gummy bear in her mouth.
Misha takes her to the bathroom for a urine test. When they come back a few minutes later, Leland arranges for a courier to deliver the specimen to a drug screening center with instructions for rapid results.
“I’m sure the roofies will be out of your system, but if they hit you with heroin, it should still be present,” I say.
She sits back in the chair, grabs more gummy bears, and tucks her feet underneath her.
“Since you haven’t showered, we’re going to give you a break so you can. Does that sound okay?”
“Y-yes.”
“Everybody, let’s give her thirty. We’ll be back.”
Craving Midnight Page 3