by Dauphin, M.
The next messages are all from the same number, and it’s one I don’t have saved in my phone.
-It was wonderful seeing you tonight, Annaliese.
-I meant what I said about you.
-Are you ignoring me?
-Come to me. Tonight. 555 E. Bellmont. –AC
What the hell? AC.... Adam Callahan? No... he couldn’t have my number. I never exchanged it with him. Even if he did, he isn’t crazy enough to chase down someone like me when he has plenty of other women falling at his feet. Especially when someone like me made it very clear she doesn’t play games with someone like him.
There’s a missed call from his number, too. Looks like it came through in the middle of his texts, right before he sends me the one asking if I was ignoring him. I’m smiling, not because he’s paying attention to me, but because he honestly thinks he can throw his money in my face and it’ll make me fall to his feet.
Sorry, think again buddy.
I turn my phone on silent and plug it in, setting it on my nightstand and lay down in bed. As soon as I hit the sheets, I curse to myself, remembering I completely forgot to change into my pajamas and now I’m way too lazy to get up and do so. Instead I lay there and awkwardly strip off every layer—panties and all. I toss my clothes on the floor, spent, and decide it probably would have been easier had I just gotten up. Hindsight’s twenty/twenty, right?
I slide under my satin sheets and roll into my pillows. I momentarily forget that Adam was here last night, sleeping on my pillow, until I take a breath in and his scent fills my nose and assaults my senses. How can one scent get me so horny? One scent from a man I’ve only met a little over a day ago. One scent, and I’m a goner.
Lying in bed, completely naked, my thoughts drift back to the night before. The night I spent screwing Adam Callahan in this bed. On our counter in the kitchen. It was just a day ago but it feels like forever since he had me. My hand slides down between my legs and I let out a sigh as my fingers find my already wet slit. Pushing a finger inside, I pull it out and wet my clit, rubbing and pressing slowly in small circles. My other hand moves to my nipples and pinches softly and I groan as I feel my orgasm building. I close my eyes picturing Adam on top of me last night, pushing into me with all of his hard length. My fingers abandon my nipples and I reach into my nightstand to grab my vibrator. Pushing it inside me and turning it on, I thrust it slowly until my orgasm is close enough to reach, then pull it out and press it onto my clit, immediately sending me into one of the best vibrator-induced orgasms I’ve ever had. My fingers and toes go numb and my legs are still tingling when I let the vibrator fall to the bed and close my eyes. I tried my hardest, but I still can’t get last night’s memories out of my mind.
I fall asleep, still utterly unsatisfied, breathing in his scent with every breath. Before I fall asleep, I hear my phone buzzing on my nightstand, but I’m so tired I choose to ignore it until tomorrow. I know it has to be him. And he can wait.
***
It’s nine in the morning before I finally roll out of bed, but I’ve already been awake for hours. The daunting task of more applications to be filled out for a teaching positions is ahead of me today, and I’m really not looking forward to it. So far I’ve filled out about twenty and have yet to hear back from anyone. I realize many schools don’t hire until a week or two before school starts, but I’m holding hope still that I’ll be one of the lucky ones chosen before crunch time. I’m also still waiting to hear back from my certification test I took, since finding a position means nothing if I didn’t pass the test. The nerves running through me are normal for any person in my position.
What’s not normal is the added pressure of responding to Adam. Mr. Chicago. I hate that nickname but the first time a local news-anchor called him that in an interview, the name stuck and now it’s used everywhere. I don’t even know what’s so important about him. Sure, he has a ton of money, but so do my parents, so do many people, and they don’t get the publicity he does. Maybe it’s because he has such a scandalous life. Whatever it is, it’s added a pressure to my nerves that I can’t stand. So much so, I’ve been lying awake for hours, unable to sleep with his scent on my pillow.
Frustrated, I finally get up and first thing I do is rip the pillow cases and sheets off the bed. I’m not doing this song and dance every night with my feelings. I don’t need someone like him in my life. I need to stop thinking about him and obsessing over him.
I need to, but I can’t.
So I do everything else I can around the apartment to keep my mind off of him—dusting our bookshelves and the fireplace mantle, vacuuming, mopping, laundry, and dishes. By noon the entire place is spotless and smells amazing. And I’ve not turned in a single application.
“Shit.” I sigh and throw my cleaning supplies back in the closet.
I’m starving, and I need to go to the grocery store. It's never good to shop for food when hungry though so I grab my purse and head down the street to the deli. While riding the elevator, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I remember it’s been on silent all day. Pulling it out, I see his number calling me again and let it go to voicemail. He’s relentless in this pursuit of me. The trouble is, the more he pushes, the more he wears me down. Turning off my phone, I waltz out into the Chicago sun to grab some lunch before an afternoon full of interview questionnaires and applications.
I won't let myself get distracted with delicious thoughts of Adam Callahan.
Or so I’m going to tell myself.
I grab lunch and walk home the long way, going about three blocks out of the way before landing back in front of my apartment. I really do love Chicago. Sure, it’s not as glamorous as New York or as hip as California, but it’s a taste all its own. The skyscrapers, the busy streets. I love it all, I just wish it loved me back sometimes. I’d really love it if it loved me enough to get me a local job. Moving isn’t something I’m looking to do, but I might not have an option.
“Gabby, you home?” I call out as I walk into our apartment and close the door, hanging my purse on the hook by the door.
I kick my shoes off and walk to her room to see if she’s home yet from her interviews. Normally when she’s home there’s some sort of noise; music or moaning most of the time, and both at the same time. Today the apartment is eerily silent. She probably isn’t home yet, but she only had a couple morning interviews. Nothing should have kept her this long.
Her door is open and I let myself in to see her sitting at her desk with her phone to her ear. One leg tucked under her, the other bobbing gently up and down. She’s excited about something and trying to hold it in. I throw myself on the bed to get her attention and she jumps spinning to glare at me while addressing the person on the other line.
“Sure. Yes, that’s great. Thank you,” she smiles at me and raises her eyebrows. “Sounds good. See you then. Thanks again.”
Hanging up the phone and setting it gently on the desk, she closes her eyes and takes a huge breath before opening them. Any time she’s so excited she can’t function without screaming she does this. There’s been a few times when she didn’t do it and went into a screaming fit of how excited she was. That was the first time we had security called on us, so ever since then she’s been really good about reigning in her excitement before talking. I sit and wait for her to look at me, and when she does, her eyes are glowing with excitement and I can’t help but smile at her. She did it. She nailed a job.
“So do I even need to ask how today went?” I ask smiling, waiting for her to tell me everything like she always does. I can’t help but feel a ping of jealousy at her finding her career a day after finishing school, but she’s been at this for about three years longer than I have, so it’s about time she gets started with her life.
“I just got one of the best jobs in the city, Ann! Clayton and Moll!! Me! Working at Clayton and Moll!” she squeals and pulls me into a bear hug on the bed, tackling me and ending in a ball of laughter. “Holy shit, Annie!” She’s still laughing
, and smiling, and so happy I just want to keep hugging her, and at the same time go hide in the corner and cry because my life isn’t anywhere near being as put together as hers is.
“I’m so happy for you, Gab. You deserve this,” I smile taking her face in my hands and kiss her forehead. A quick peck that I’ll give her sometimes when she’s down or really needs one.
It’s the truth, too. I am happy for her. She’s found something she wants to do and is actually excited about it. Last night she seemed like she was completely unhappy with her life, which bummed me out. Gab worked so hard to get to where she is now. All she has to do is pass the BAR and she’s a full-blown lawyer. She can do it. She’s the smartest person I’ve ever known.
“We should celebrate!” she yells, then hops off the bed and runs for her phone.
“Oooh... three nights in a row, Gab? You sure our wallets can take that?” I groan inwardly, dreading the thought of having to go out again for the third night in a row. I feel like an old lady, but tonight all I want to do it sit at home in my pajamas.
She looks at me, holding her phone in her hand, about to text the group to meet up somewhere. Her eyes go to her phone then back to me. I smile sweetly, hoping that maybe she’s considering staying in. I hope so. She’s my best friend so I’ll have to go out with her if she decides she wants to.
“Will you buy me Chinese food?” she asks skeptically. Sneaky little bastard. She knows I hate Chinese food.
“If I do, are you gonna bitch all night about not going out?” Because she would.
“As long as you promise not to bitch that you’re bored once we start The Notebook for the thousandth time.” She’s grinning at me. The dork picked two things I’m very open about disliking.
If it means I can put my PJs on though, I’m game.
“Deal, whore,” I say as I smile, holding my hand out to shake hers in agreement.
And now the daunting task of finding something that I’m going to enjoy for dinner.
She’s lucky I love her.
Chapter 4
Adam
She actually walked out. Like she wasn’t impressed at all by the fact that I have a penthouse.
Honestly, I don’t think she was. I’m not certain I’ve ever seen such a look of disgust from a woman that I was about to fuck. Well shit. She might have actually been offended by that.
She’s fucking nuts if so.
Every woman—married, single, moms, grandmas, babysitters—is looking for a chance with me. With Mr. Chicago. The man behind the biggest start-up in Chicago. The man whose law firm helped get that one chick out of her murder charge, even though it was painfully obvious she was guilty.
I take a moment to collect myself, knowing fully that if I walk back out there right now I’ll be sporting more than just a scowl on my face. Who does she think she is? Other than the first woman ever to turn me down, she’s just a teacher. Really, she’s not even that yet. She just finished school. A Goddamn student, and I fucked her. Not only that, I was more than willing to fuck her again in the public bathroom of this hole in the wall place my parents call a restaurant. I look around the small room, cringing when I see the discoloration of paint on the wall behind the toilet, the dirt collected around the sink handles. Is this really what people call clean and healthy? There’s probably shit all over this room, and I almost fucked her in it.
Well... good thing she turned me down I guess.
After a few minutes, my dick finally decides to stand down and I can make my way back to my table. I approach slowly and take in the company. My sister Cara, beautiful in her own right, smiling at me through her dark bangs and gorgeous (yet fake) eye color. Next to her is my aunt Grace, my Uncle Tom, their two children Jen and Jane, and on the other side of the long table sits my parents. Everyone’s conversations stop as I return to the table, all eyes on me. Mr. Fucking Chicago.
“Adam, dear, are you feeling okay? You were in there an awful long time,” my mother croons as she brings her wine glass to her bright pink lips and takes a sip, leaving a lipstick ring on the side of her glass.
“I’m fine, Mother. I had to step out and take a call while I was up. I do have a business to run, you know,” I say sweetly, adding in that I will need to be heading out soon.
“Great, you can take me with you. I need to meet some of my girlfriends at Marties,” my sister says as she smiles a knowing smile at me.
“Leaving so soon after dinner, both of my children. You’d think they were raised with no manners whatsoever,” my mother bitches and my aunt gasps.
“Don’t talk about your kids that way. They’re busy adults,” she glares at my parents then turns to me. “It was wonderful seeing both of you. You two have a lovely evening.”
“You do the same, Aunt Grace.” I kiss her on the cheek, shake my uncle’s hand, and nod a goodbye at my cousins.
My father stands and pats me on the back while saying his goodbye. My mother stands stiffly while I hug her goodbye, my sister following my lead. She’s not one to push limits with my parents like I am. I know how controlling my mother can be, though, so I’m constantly trying to push back to keep her in place.
Once we finally make it to my car, Cara slides into the leather seat and sighs.
“So—” she starts but I stop her.
“Home. You’re going home. What you do after that is up to you, but I have things I need to take care of tonight.”
I look over and she’s transformed into a pouting child. Arms crossed, bottom lip jutting out, everything she used to do as a kid when she didn’t get her way.
“Bug, you have to go home. I can’t take you with me tonight,” I warn.
“You know I’ll just find my own way,” she chides, sitting up straighter in her seat than she was. She buckles her seatbelt and stares out her window.
“Tonight’s not a good night, Bug. You know I’d take you with me if I could, but... I can’t tonight.”
My sister knows about the fighting ring, as her ex-boyfriend used to be a fighter for Vick before he made it big into the MMA and moved to Vegas. I don’t worry about her going to the fights with me, but I do worry about her going to the fight tonight. Whatever that phone call I received earlier was, I have a strange feeling it’s trouble. I couldn’t live with myself if she were hurt because of something I was involved in. It’s useless telling her about the threat. She’d do everything in her power to keep me from going tonight; I wouldn’t put it past her to get my parents involved if it meant keeping me safe. She’s that type of little sister.
“Fine. Have it your way.”
We’re stopped at a red light in the middle of the city when she turns to me and smiles.
“The chick with the legs. The one you followed into the bathroom. Who was that? She looked familiar,” she says as she cocks her head at me and grins. Her mention of Annaliese makes my palms clam up immediately and my heart rate rise.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I grind out.
She laughs hard, shaking her head. My sister’s always had a way of reading my mind, sometimes before I even know what I was thinking.
“You can’t keep your dick in your pants long enough to sit through a family dinner.”
“Knock it off, Bug. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I feel my anger rising the longer she laughs at me.
“Jesus, women like her disgust me. One look from ‘Mr. Chicago’ and they lose all morals. Whore—“
“I said knock it off!” I yell at her, my voice booms through the car.
The light has turned green but I’m not moving the car like I should be. I hear the horns and people yelling at me, but I can’t stop my hands from shaking. She’s not a whore. She’s not a bitch. She has morals.
Why am I defending her? I don’t defend the women I fuck.
“Well okay,” my sister says dejectedly. Looking out her window she adds, “You were never that passionate about your wife while married.” Then she turns back to look at me, “Are
you hiding something from me, A?”
I sigh and shake my head, blinking my eyes a few times to regain composure.
“No. I’m not hiding anything. Tonight’s fight isn’t the place for you to be. There are things in place tonight that could get ugly.”
“Did you finish the deal with Vick?”
“Yes, but there were things he requested on his end. I need to be there to keep an eye on my fighter. I won’t be able to keep an eye on you, so you need to stay away.”
“Fine. Done. Just stop being an uptight ass. You’re no fun when you’re moody.”
I smile at her. The only girl that can make me smile when I’m on the edge of exploding from all of these damn feelings running through me. My little sister and I grew up best friends, and after we connected again after college we were right back at it. Always talking, telling each other everything. She’s got a great big brother in me, but I’m the lucky one. She tries her hardest to keep me grounded, and sometimes it actually sticks.
I drop her off at her apartment, hugging her goodbye, and wait to pull away until she’s safely inside with the doors locked. Sure she’s probably going back out again tonight, but at least I did my job of getting her home safe.
Moving my car back into traffic, I turn on Bluetooth and dial Benton. It goes straight to voicemail, but since it’s an hour to fight time I’m assuming he’s already warming up. I try his work cell but it’s turned off. Great.
Finding my way through the city to the North side, I park my car and pray that my baby stays safe while I’m in this basement. These fights have to be in warehouses or basements in the bad part of the city due to crowd control and not as many eyes watching out for illegal things, since there’s a lot more than illegal fighting happening here. People up here mind their own business and don’t try to ruin others' days for the hell of it. Not like the rich part of the city, where one bad look can cause you to get sued.
Walking to the address a few blocks away from where I parked, I notice a few other people milling about, but don’t make eye contact. If they’re here for the fight, they are just nervous to get inside before they are seen. If they’re not here for the fight, they’re probably going to hit me up for money, something I definitely don’t do.