It isn’t until we are ready to make the purchase that trouble strikes. When I hand the saleswoman Blake’s credit card, she takes one look at the name and accuses me of stealing it. I insist that I didn’t and I desperately try calling Blake, but his phone keeps going to voicemail. I see he added his office number to the contacts, so I tried that number, as well. The secretary tells me he is in a meeting and she’s holding his calls.
The lady picks up the phone. “I’m calling the police.”
“I didn't steal that card. Blake gave it to me to use this morning.”
“I’m afraid I don’t believe you. Gail always shops for Mr. Hargreaves.”
Who the hell is Gail? “I don’t really need these clothes or the card. Keep it all. Call the police or Blake, I don’t care. Hell, call Gail. I’m out of here.”
Renee and I leave, feeling humiliated. We start walking down the sidewalk. She opens her purse, gets out a pack of cigarettes, and offers me one. It’s just what I needed.
When I am halfway through my cigarette, the phone that Blake got me rings. It can only be him calling me since there are only three contacts in it and I’m with one of them.
“There’s a judgemental bitch at Abigail's that has your credit card. I told her to go ahead and call the cops, or you, or Gail - whoever the hell that is. She accused me of stealing your card all while her eyes were glued on my neck. I tried to cover the bruises, but apparently, I failed at covering them well enough.” Renee motions to me that she has to go. I kiss her on the cheek before she runs off.
“I’ll take care of the lady at Abigail’s. Where are you? I’ll send a car to come and pick you up.”
Inhaling the last of my cigarette, I drop it on the ground and stomp it out as an idea crosses my mind. “I have to go. I’ll call you back later.”
Without saying goodbye, I hang up. Today is blue tag day. That means it’s 70% off clothing at the thrift store. I have the money that I took from daddy’s cereal box. I can buy a few outfits and with any luck, maybe a nice dress.
I was able to get a pair of jeans, a couple shirts, one pantsuit, and a very nice dress that is suitable for the country club. It isn't much, but it is better than nothing. I could have gotten a few more pairs of jeans if I had not bought the dress, but I couldn’t resist it. The white, off-the-shoulder dress was calling my name. I think Blake will really like it.
I check the time and it is almost five. I send Blake a text telling him that I am at the country club. I still don’t know if I will fit into his lifestyle, but I won’t know unless I try. I need to hurry and get there before he does so that I can sneak into the restroom and change into my new dress.
I felt like I was teetering on the edge of two competing personalities. Sitting in my office getting updates from some of the vendors I work with had me feeling like my confident self, but the other half of me hadn’t wanted to leave this morning. Everything was still so fragile with Rochelle, and I was hooked. I obsessed over her not returning my final, ‘I love you,’ this morning and couldn’t help but wonder if she’d continue the pattern and just run off today while I was at work. That girl got in her own head more than anyone I’d ever known, and me being away might leave her spiraling out of control again. I should have taken another day.
It wasn’t as though the thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but I also didn’t want her thinking I was putting my life on hold for her and treating her like the charity case she so clearly did not wish to be. There was likely no right answer, but if anything went wrong, I knew I’d second guess myself to death.
When my office line rang in the middle of the meeting, I expected the worst. Gail would have ensured my secretary Emily only let a call through if it were an emergency. My cell was silenced for this meeting and when I glanced at it before picking up my office receiver, I saw several missed calls from Rochelle’s new number. Shit!
“This is Blake,” I answered, trying to hide the panic from the vendors sitting across from me, while pretending to be completely fine with the interruption. It was rude, but I was their customer, so I could get away with it.
“Mr. Hargreaves, I have a call from the bank. Was your card stolen this morning?”
Double shit!
“No, it wasn’t. I will take care of this. Thank you, Emily.”
A quick beep told me that she’d put the call through, and I was greeted by a friendly agent on the other end.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hargreaves. Terribly sorry to bother you, but we have a report of a stolen card being used in a store. The retailer still has the card, but the woman trying to use it left before the police could be called. Would you like us to alert the authorities?”
“No. That card was given to my girlfriend to use for the day. She did not steal it.”
“I understand, sir. Unfortunately, only you can use the card and you would need to get a separate card for her to access your account. Would you like to set that up?”
I wanted to slap the guy, but he was only doing his job. “That sounds good. I am in the middle of a meeting, but I will put you back on with my assistant to set that up.”
“That would be wonder…” the man began responding, but I’d already parked the call for Emily to pick back up before he finished.
“I’m terribly sorry,” I apologized to the two gentlemen across from me as I stood. “There’s been an incident and I need to make another call. It should not take long; I will be back momentarily.”
Both men graciously hid their annoyance and showed the courtesy of standing as I made my exit. I walked past Emily’s desk and ducked into the empty conference room for privacy as I dialed Rochelle’s number. I hadn’t known what to expect from her after such an encounter, but I was relieved when she seemed rightfully annoyed with the woman and nothing more. I wish she’d taken me up on my offer and let me bring her to the office, but something about the way she ended the call, despite the abruptness of it, told me that she wasn’t going to do anything crazy. If she was going to keep her head about her, I needed to do the same. I had one more thing to take care of before I’d be able to concentrate again.
“Abigail’s,” a woman’s voice answered.
“Yes, this is Blake Hargreaves. I just spoke with my bank about the card you held in your store.”
“Oh, hello, Mr. Hargreaves. Yes, I have your card right here at the counter.”
“Were you the one who held it for me?” I asked.
“Yes,” came her proud reply.
“And what is your name?”
“Heather…”
“Well, Heather, I will be sure to let your boss know that it is because of you I will no longer be purchasing my suits from your store. A simple phone call to my assistant, Gail, who has always handled my purchases at Abigail’s, would have cleared up the entire situation. But it would seem you were too busy judging my girlfriend to make a two minute call - even when she was trying to contact me. What thief does that? In any case, you lost what I assume was a major purchase this morning, and you’ve lost a customer. I’ll be personally making that phone call to the owner this afternoon. Have a nice day.”
Heather was desperately trying to get a word in while I spoke, but she could never get in more than a single syllable before I hung up without an ounce of interest in what she’d had to say. I hoped she was sweating it, and I’d meant what I said. I would call Abigail – who I knew personally – later that day and express my complete displeasure with the incident. I’d likely continue shopping there, but only because I was certain that Heather would be terminated.
With that resolved, I returned to my office, convinced that I’d be able to focus better with that out of the way, but I was mistaken. As the men continued with their presentation, my mind wandered back to Rochelle, and back to her body. I hadn’t finished with her this morning, and that was a mistake. I was so distracted by the thought of all the things I wished I’d done before leaving that it took everything in me to even appear as though I was paying attention to what
the men were saying.
“So,” one of them emphasized as they were wrapping up, “would you like us to proceed with a ramp up?”
I looked at the last slide they had projected on the large screen on the wall beside my desk. I’d lost track of the conversation and had no idea how they planned to scale, but the cost was two million.
“It sounds great,” I said with a smile as I stood to shake their hands. “Let’s make it happen.”
It was more than likely a good decision, but I might as well have tossed two million on black at roulette given how little of their presentation I had actually absorbed. The men seemed very happy with my decision and were soon on their way out the door, leaving me to wrap up the last of my work before I could get out of there and find out what Rochelle was up to.
Sadly, the work piled up over the latter half of my afternoon, and by the time I was done, it was nearly five. I was about to call Rochelle when my phone buzzed and I saw her name flash across the screen. If anyone else had been in the room, they would have seen me light up at the sight of her name like a child getting a present. I was so over the moon with this girl!
Her message said that she was headed to the country club, and I couldn’t wait. I knew she wouldn’t plan on meeting me there in the casual outfit I’d left her with, so she must have found another way to get some clothes. The thought of seeing her dressed up again was another thrill, and I grabbed my jacket and swiftly left the office, racing out of the garage like a bat out of hell toward the club. The streets were clear and the day was still picture perfect. Life was an absolute dream. I hadn’t called Abigail yet, but my mood was too good now. Perhaps I’d let that slide after all. Heather had likely been punished enough by the call already.
I pulled into the lot and parked in my spot before making my way inside. This was a quiet time of day at the bar, but it would start filling up as the evening progressed. The food here was amazing; there was rarely an empty seat over dinner, and the crowd would linger into the night as the tables moved off the dance floor and it transformed into an upscale bar.
With just a handful of people inside, it took me no time at all to spot Rochelle. She had her back to me, but I’d been studying her body and knew it was her. She’d left her hair down tonight, falling just past her shoulders, highlighting their lovely shape in the off-the-shoulder, white dress she was wearing. My eyes were drawn to either side of the dress, far more interested in the elegant slits that accentuated her soft curves. Her petite shoulders and shapely calves were more than enough to stir up my excitement, and I was about to sneak up behind her when another man stepped in front of her and began a heated discussion.
It was Congressman Carlisle, and he was clearly not happy to see her there. The congressman and I were friendly, mostly because he was good for business here, but I never really liked him. Life had gifted me with a good sense for people, and that guy was the epitome of a political snake. I wanted to rush in and protect her, but when I realized why he must be upset, I paused a moment and thought more carefully about my approach. Sammy wasn’t on shift tonight, but Darien was working the bar, and he was as big as most club bouncers. I’d let him do the work and just enjoy the show.
After pulling Darien aside and walking him through things in a matter of seconds, I sat around the corner of the bar as he walked over to the two who were still talking. The congressman seemed quite pleased with himself, and Rochelle was standing to leave just as Darien arrived. While Carlisle had been heated, he’d kept his voice low during their discussion and I hadn’t been able to hear him, but Darien made no such attempt as he loudly asked, “Is there a problem? Is this gentleman bothering you, Ms. Carver?”
Rochelle recovered quickly, but her shock at being treated with respect was apparent. No doubt, she’d expected to be asked to leave. It was how she’d been treated in the clothing store, and likely how she was used to being treated everywhere. Why couldn’t the world see her as I did? She was undeniably attractive and I found it hard to believe that people would see the worst in her and not the limitless potential and uncommon beauty.
“Excuse ME!?” the congressman protested, cutting in before Rochelle could say a word. “Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, congressman, I do,” Darien replied. Rochelle’s back straightened a little at hearing his position. She hadn’t known. Darien continued, “but I’m afraid I cannot have you bothering Ms. Carver.”
“Mr. Hargreaves will hear about this, young man!” the congressman exclaimed.
“Of course,” Darien replied before turning to Rochelle. “Ms. Carver, I will be sure to let Mr. Hargreaves know right away. He would want me to ask if there was anything at all we could do to make you more comfortable.”
Looking back to Congressman Carlisle, Darien continued, “Now, congressman, I’ll have to ask that you leave Ms. Carver alone for the evening. She’s a VIP in this club and I cannot have Mr. Hargreaves finding out that she was bothered in any way. I’d be happy to find a seat for you on the balcony if you’d still like to stay.”
The smaller man’s face quickly flushed to match the maroon shirt he was wearing, and he huffed as he walked over to his wife and insisted that they were leaving. The poor woman had been talking with a friend and had no clue why they couldn’t stay. I could only imagine that if she figured it out, his night would only get worse.
Darien played his part perfectly, standing at Rochelle’s side and keeping his eyes on the congressman the entire time until he walked out the side door. With the show over, I ducked out, delaying getting my hands, and lips, on my love for another few moments while I dealt with the congressman myself.
I caught up to him just as he was getting in the car and the look of smugness that replaced his anger at the sight of me made what was coming so much more precious.
“Blake – thank goodness. You need to take care of something for me. Diane and I were just about to enjoy our dinner when I spotted someone who,” he paused to look back at his wife in the car and dropped his voice before continuing, “let’s just say – doesn’t belong in a place like this. She’s a sex worker and has no business being there and making others uncomfortable. I asked her to leave and your goon insinuated that I was bothering her. Can you believe that?”
“Yes,” I said flatly. “Darien did exactly as he was asked, and I will be sure to thank him for it. You have no business asking anyone to leave my club, and the woman you were insulting is not a sex worker,” I added loudly enough to be sure his wife heard. “Perhaps you think you’ve seen her in a club you frequent, as I can’t imagine why else you’d think you knew such a thing about her, but the woman inside is a very important client to this club. She will not be disturbed – by anyone.”
Diane, who had gotten out of the car after overhearing my end of the conversation, now began hurling questions at her husband. I took my leave with a feeling of satisfaction as the man began defending what sounded like a repeat offense. Amidst all their bickering as I walked away, I heard the words, “asshole,” and “divorce,” used repeatedly, my smile growing each and every time.
When I returned to the bar, I was worried that Rochelle’s experience, combined with what had happened at Abigail’s, may have understandably put her in a foul mood, but I found her facing me with a big smile that lit up her face.
“You look incredible!” I said as I approached her, noticing that the marks on her neck appeared to be gone. She must have covered them up with makeup.
“Thank you,” she responded with a little blush. “See, I didn’t need your fancy black card!”
“You certainly didn’t, and you won’t anymore. You’re getting one of your own tomorrow.”
Rochelle gasped at that news, but her smile didn’t falter and I was relieved to see that she was willing to accept the card now. It seemed as though we’d turned a corner. “So, tell me about your day,” I implored her.
“First, you tell me what just happened here a few minutes ago,” she replied. “I saw you duckin
g out right after my new favorite bartender came over and saved my night.”
“You weren’t supposed to see me,” I said with an impish grin. “I didn’t want that to be about you and me. That asshat shouldn’t have treated you like that regardless of whether or not you’re with me, so I had Darien handle him.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I don’t need you to defend me, but the look on his face was worth it.”
“Well if you liked the look on his face, you might just love the idea I had on the drive over here,” I teased.
Rochelle looked back expectantly at me, waiting for me to say more before slapping my arm and shouting, “Well! Tell me already!”
“I know that we discussed you being my assistant, but I think I have a better idea. Gail is already my assistant, and I am sure you will meet her very soon. I know you had a different job description in mind, but that doesn’t work, and I’m not about to even jokingly pretend I am paying you for that. As far as I’m concerned, you never need to worry about money again so long as you are with me, but I want you to be happy and to have something of your own too. How would you like to run Leather Shots – or whatever we rename that awful club once we are ready to reopen?”
Rochelle’s eyes glazed and her jaw dropped at my proposal. It was my turn to stare back at her expectantly as I awaited her response.
After I picked my jaw off the floor, I kindly accepted Blake’s offer to run the new club. I don’t think Randy is going to like it very much, but frankly, I don’t care what Randy thinks. He’s disgraced me and the other girls long enough. It’s time someone gives him a taste of his own medicine.
Inside the Storm Page 11