Something About Money

by Carolyn Scott

  That's when I made my move and tried to slip past. But he wasn't relaxed enough, and he caught me, gently trapping me against his body. I stayed there, enjoying the feel of him, hard and hot, through my clothes. If he had to give me a lecture, I guess I could put up with it.

  "Not so fast, Cat. Not until you tell me what you're up to tonight with this Frank character. I don't want you doing anything crazy without backup."

  I sighed. I might be an investigator, but he still didn't want to let me loose on my own without wiring me up first and fully prepping me on the nearest exits. Too bad, because the outfit I planned on wearing wouldn't hide a wire, and there was no time to investigate the restaurant's layout.

  "I'm just going to talk to him. You know, play the dumb female and get some financial advice from a big, clever man." I kissed his frown until I felt it vanish.

  "Hmmm," was all he said as he stood aside to let me pass.

  "Don't worry, I'm always careful."

  That earned me another frown.

  I left the office and headed to my car, parked down the street. Gina was just shutting up her florist shop next door and hailed me.

  "You got plans tonight?" she asked as she dropped her keys into her fake Gucci bag.

  "I have a case to work on."

  She pouted. "Poor you. Is Will working you too hard again?"

  Gina always looked out for me. She'd been my best friend since elementary school when she was the half-Italian, half-African American outcast in a middle class suburb. We'd grown up together dancing to Britney Spears, dressing in our mothers' clothes, and giggling over boys. Actually, we still did all those things, except our mothers' clothes had been replaced by our own designer knock-offs.

  "Don't feel too bad for me," I said. "I'm heading off to dinner at The Carelton."

  "Nice," she said with a nod of approval. "I hope your client is paying."

  "Actually, the suspect is. You got a date?"

  "Maybe." Without elaborating, she air-kissed my cheek then rushed off.

  I watched her tuck her curvaceous figure into her car and speed away. Gina was both the luckiest and unluckiest person when it came to love. Being gorgeous, curvy, and fun meant that men begged to go out with her. But for some reason, she always broke the relationship off before it got too serious. That meant she had more exes than her address book could hold.

  At home, I showered and dressed in a strappy little pink dress and matching high heels, then headed to The Carelton's restaurant where Play Group and Frank were already seated. From a distance, they looked like they were involved in an important discussion, and I wondered if I should hang back until they'd finished. Curiosity got the better of me though. As I got close, I heard the tension in the voices, even though I couldn't hear their words.

  Jenny spotted me first and shot a nervous glance at Angel and Frank. "Hi, Cat," she said.

  No one else seemed to notice me. I felt like I'd walked into a soap opera, complete with heaving chests, narrowed eyes, and pinched lips.

  "I wish you were dead!" A teary Angel burst out. She thrust back her chair and stormed off to the Ladies room, clutching her purse like it was a murder weapon.

  Everyone stared after her. A moment later, Frank turned to me for the first time. "Welcome to our happy little family," he said with a sneer.

  Chapter 4

  Jenny introduced me to the two men of Play Group. They were both striking in different ways, and both turned on megawatt smiles for me, despite Angel's dramatic exit.

  "Jenny's told us so much about you," said Taylor. Tall and dark, he had a voice like a radio announcer and the looks of an MTV presenter. He wore a black T-shirt, black jeans, and black nail polish. His short hair was gelled into a spiky mess and he either had very dark lashes or wore mascara. His handshake was kind of pathetic, but his smile seemed genuine.

  "Don't believe a word of it," I said with a wink at Jenny.

  "Oh, no," said Jenny, eyes wide. "I didn't tell them any of the bad stuff."

  Taylor leaned on arms crossed on the table in front of him. "Now that sounds interesting. Come on, spill it. Which celebrities did you get naked with?"

  I wasn't sure if he was asking me or Jenny, but it didn't matter because neither of us got a chance to answer.

  "For fuck's sake, Taylor," muttered Frank into his glass of wine, "does everything have to revolve around sex and gossip?"

  Taylor's lip curled into a snarl. He looked like he was going to bite Frank's head off with a well-aimed barb, but instead he snatched up a menu and pretended to study it. The air around the table became thicker, crackling like a stormy night. I shifted uncomfortably, not sure if I wanted the storm to break overhead to clear the air or drift somewhere else. The voyeur in me shouted "Do it!" but the ostrich wanted to hide in the bathroom until it was all over.

  "What a terrible impression we must be making on you," said Corey, the other member of Play Group. Blond and fine-boned, he looked like a male version of Angel. His smile, although wide and white, was faker than Jenny's breasts. "We're not usually this bad tempered. It's been a long tour and everyone's strung out."

  Jenny nodded. Taylor and Frank didn't look up from their menus.

  When Angel returned, there wasn't a single tearstain marring her impeccable makeup. She was all smiles again, as if nothing had happened. "It's so good to see you again, Cat. We have to go shopping again another time. There's a pair of shoes I think I'd like to have in pink after all."

  I glanced at Frank in case their earlier argument had been about her spending spree, but he ignored his wife from across the table.

  "Speaking of pink, you look gorgeous in that dress, Cat," Angel continued. "I love that color on you."

  "Stunning," Taylor agreed, lowering his menu, his smile back. "You know, I'm surprised you never did more in Hollywood. With your bone structure and figure, you should be a star."

  "Maybe I should have hired you as my agent," I said.

  His laughter bubbled out in a deep, rumbling chuckle. "I'll consider the career change when Play Group ends."

  "Which won't be anytime soon," Frank said into his menu.

  The four members of Play Group exchanged glances while I pretended not to notice the charged atmosphere.

  We ordered and ate while only exchanging polite words, mostly between myself and the four group members. Frank sat sullenly in his seat, getting ruddier with every glass of wine.

  After the main meal I excused myself and went to the bathroom. On my return, I had a good view of Angel and Corey's backs. What I saw made me stumble in my heels. They were playing footsies under the table.

  Hell-o!

  I sat back down and engaged Angel in a conversation about L.A. in the hope that I would detect something between her and Corey, but they were seasoned performers and not a sign of their foot play showed.

  During dinner, Frank's phone rang and he searched for it in the pocket of his jacket, hanging over the back of his chair. He pulled his hotel room key out, placed it on the table, then fished out his cell. He returned the key as he stood and then walked off, talking loudly on the phone. The mischievous devil that sat on my shoulder got a glint in her eye. The good girl in me didn't stand a chance when that happened.

  Before dessert arrived, I made my move. I cornered Jenny in the bathroom and asked her to swap seats with me.

  "Why?" she asked, lip gloss poised. "You're not going to ask Frank questions about my money in front of everyone, are you?"

  "No. I need some financial advice." I winked at her.

  She gave me a blank look then shrugged.

  Back at the table, she said she needed to speak to Corey, so I gave her my chair. As I settled into her seat, I turned the charm on for Frank. It wasn't as easy as usual. In between glaring at his wife, who ignored him, he guzzled his wine and food as if he'd just come off the grapefruit diet. He stuffed crepes into his mouth before he'd finished chewing the last spoonful. It was disgusting. He hardly noticed me at all.

 
; "Jenny tells me you're the one to speak to about financial matters," I said.

  "What of it?" he said, his mouth full.

  "Maybe you can help me. I recently came into some money—"

  He put down his spoon and looked at me for the first time. "How much?"

  "A few thousand. Do you know any investments I could dabble in?"

  "It's not worth my while unless you've got at least ten grand." He returned to his dessert.

  I leaned closer and lowered my voice. "Actually, it's twenty."

  That earned me his complete attention and a smile. His chest swelled and something passed over his face. He went from asshole to slick salesman in a heartbeat. "Well then, you came to the right man. I have some exciting new opportunities that need backing from someone just like you." He leaned closer, conspiratorial. "Someone willing to see the big picture and the long-term benefits."

  "Are they safe?" I flicked my hair, doing the ditzy thing. "I mean, will I lose my money?"

  "Safe as houses." He smiled and was almost handsome when he put in the effort. I could see why Angel had fallen for him. He was charming too and could probably sweep a girl off her feet if he said the right things in just the right way. "Don't worry, I wouldn't let a friend of Jenny's invest in anything that would lose money. She's a great girl and I get the feeling you're just like her."

  I bet he did. Let's be honest—Jenny thought the stock market was just another shopping mall. Something Frank was probably counting on with me too.

  "What are the investments in?" I asked, dialing up the girly tone in my voice. "I mean, have I heard of them? I don't want to give my money to anyone who kills baby seals or anything."

  "I wouldn't recommend anything like that to you. I find those sorts of companies abhorrent, don't you?"

  I nodded and simpered and when he turned away, I slipped the hotel key I'd retrieved from his pocket into my handbag.

  I left the restaurant before coffee arrived, claiming I needed to meet up with my boyfriend. It wasn't a lie. Will would be pacing around his lounge room about now, imagining all the nasty situations I could have gotten myself into. It's doubtful that he would have guessed I was sneaking into my target's hotel room. Suite 1201 wasn't the penthouse, but it was definitely huge with two bedrooms, a bathroom the size of my entire apartment, and a supersized TV. Both bedrooms were being used. Angel's things were spread out over the bed in one room, and Frank's suits hung neatly in the wardrobe of the other.

  I started my search there, checking through his pockets, the desk drawer, and the nightstand. When I found his suitcase tucked under the bed, I expected it to be empty, but what I found made my heart pump harder. An iPad which I couldn't access without a password, a notepad with illegible messages scrawled across the first two pages, and a stack of bank statements belonging to a company called Karvea Holdings. There was also a letter from Guest and Lieberman, a law firm based in L.A. I was about to read it when I spotted something more interesting at the bottom of the case.

  Photos. Three of them to be precise, and all showing two men in what the courts would describe as a lewd act. In all the shots, one man's face was clear: Taylor.

  So he was gay. No big deal. I'd guessed as much from his voice and clothes. No straight guy I knew dressed that snappy. It wasn't the nudity or the fact it was two men that intrigued me, it was that Frank had found them interesting enough to have them in the first place. Why?

  I didn't get a chance to think about it. The sounds of voices outside the suite sent my pulse racing, and my mind switched focus.

  "Where's my damned key?" came Frank's voice.

  Crap! I returned the photos and papers and scrambled to the bathroom, partially closing the door but leaving enough of a gap to see through. Frank and Angel entered—she must have had a key—and neither looked like they'd be happy to find a virtual stranger hiding in their bathroom. Somehow I didn't think a lie would get me out of this one, so I stayed hidden.

  Frank hung up his jacket in the closet near the front door, and Angel went to the kitchenette. She poured herself a glass of water, which she drank in one gulp. Frank followed her and reached around her shoulders and squeezed her breasts as he kissed her neck.

  She pushed him away with a violent sweep of her arm. "Don't! Do you think after the way you treated me tonight that I want you touching me? Forget it."

  "Are you still mad about that? Come on, Angel, you know your spending is getting out of hand. I was just—"

  "Humiliating me," she finished for him. "In front of everyone. Don't ever do that again, Frank. I mean it."

  "Or you'll what? Leave me?" He snorted. "We both know that's not going to happen."

  "I don't have to leave you, but I don't have to be a good wife either." She stormed out of the kitchenette and for a heart-stopping moment I thought she would barge into the bathroom.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  She stopped in front of me and turned back to him. In profile, I could see the hard set of her mouth, the pulsing vein in her neck. She reached up with both hands, grabbed her dress at its collar and ripped it in two, down to her waist. She wasn't wearing a bra or underwear, but that didn’t stop her from stepping out of the dress and flicked it to him with her foot. He caught it and flung it away.

  Angel stood there in her heels, hands on hips. "See these?" She cupped her breasts. "And this?" She turned around and lightly smacked her own ass. "Take a good look, because you won't get to touch them ever again."

  With a toss of her head, she strode into her bedroom and slammed the door.

  Frank watched her go, his lips apart and a complete look of mystification on his face. Then he marched to Angel's closed door. "You forget whose name our bank accounts and credit cards are in." He spoke sweetly. Too sweetly. It sent a shiver down my spine. "I own that ass. I own you. And you'll do whatever I say, when I say it. Darling." He headed into his own room and slammed the door.

  I slipped out of the bathroom and practically ran from the hotel to my car. It was a short drive to Will's place. All the lights were off in his house, which meant he hadn't been waiting up for me. So much for being worried. He was learning.

  Will lived close to the office in an area of Renford once known for its hard-working migrant population, but was now popular with trendy young couples looking for bargain housing close to the city center. In the last decade, the takeout kebab shops had been replaced by cafes and the furniture stores which once sold ornate gold bedroom suites now stocked sleekly functional designs. It was a suburb where toys and kids' bikes littered the front lawns. Will's house was the odd one out with its broken front gate and weed-infested garden beds.

  I crept silently through the house, not wanting to wake him. A faint glow shone from one of the rooms and when I investigated, I found Will hunched over his laptop in the study, snoring softly.

  He looked up before I touched his shoulder. "Hey," he said, sleepily. "You're back. What time is it?"

  "Late."

  He switched off the computer. "That dress looks good on you." He pulled me to him and I and discovered how much he liked the dress when I sat on his lap.

  He lifted the hem and ran his fingers up my thigh, gently exploring higher. I caught my breath as he fingered the lacey edge of my French knickers. I leaned into him, wanting him to go higher.

  He lifted me up and carried me to the bedroom where he slowly slid the dress off. The cool, silky fabric whispered against my skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. I stepped out of it and remembered Angel doing the same thing, before flinging her dress viciously at her husband and teasing him with her unattainable body.

  I lifted my arms, offering myself to Will. He kissed my left wrist, my arm, my shoulder, and I melted as his lips warmed my breast and his fingers toyed with the other. Someone, somewhere, moaned. It could have come from either of us. The sound increased when his fingers moved south and plunged, circled, then plunged again. I hung on to his massive shoulders and rode the waves until I couldn't
take any more and pushed him onto the bed.

  Our lovemaking started out slow as we moved in sync, our bodies fused by heat and our gazes locked. We tried many, many positions until we finally settled on our favorite—me on top. We rocked to the rhythm, his hands on my hips, my breasts, everywhere. I threw my head back and sucked air between my teeth in an attempt to control the overwhelming sensations.

  "Not yet," he murmured, even while his hips thrust up to meet mine.

  I ignored him. I couldn't slow down. I'd gone too far, and so had he.

  We came together.

  Afterward, Will held me, stroking my hair. "So how'd it go tonight? The dinner, I mean."

  Always business. Christ, couldn't he leave it until I'd come down from my orgasmic high? The man was a machine.

  I sighed and tried to gather my scattered thoughts. "Frank and Angel hate each other. Frank tried to sell me on an investment scheme. He has a business called Karvea Holdings and some dealings with a legal firm called Guest and Lieberman."

  "Not bad for one evening." He sounded proud. "How'd you find all that out?"

  "I used my feminine wiles."

  He groaned. "You mean you lied."

  "Not exactly. I broke into his hotel suite."

  "Fuck, Cat." He sat up and looked at me, a deep frown turning his face from handsome to rugged. "How many times do I have to tell you, I don't want to get involved in anything illegal. If Karvea found out—"

  "He didn't. And if he did, I'd get out of it. I'm good at—"

  "Lying. I know." He lay down on his side, facing me, and sighed. "Cat, you're bad for my health."

  "But I'm good for your sex life." I rolled him onto his back and climbed on top. Maybe round two would take his mind off my little escapade.

  The following day, I checked out Karvea Holdings, but everything seemed above board. The company owned fifty percent of Play Group, including the TV rights and merchandising associated with it. Interestingly, the other fifty percent was owned by Frank’s ex-wife, Cindy. I knew the Karveas had started the group together, using her musical and dancing talents and his business acumen and media contacts, but I had no idea she was still a part of the phenomenon. I'd assumed Frank had bought her out.