Pleasure in His Kiss

by Pamela Yaye

  “Yeah, in your dreams.” Duane clapped him hard on the shoulder. “Dad caught it, and you helped him haul it into the boat. That’s it.”

  Roderick raised an eyebrow. “Is that what happened?”

  Morrison and Duane nodded, and Roderick wore a sheepish smile.

  “I drank a lot of whiskey that night, and to be honest the details are sketchy in my mind.”

  Tell us something we don’t know. Morrison couldn’t believe how much his brother had changed in the last six months. Roderick used to be active and fit, but his partying lifestyle had finally caught up to him, and now he had round cheeks, a beer belly and flabby arms. He was a functional alcoholic who refused to believe he had a problem, and Morrison feared it was just a matter of time before he lost his prestigious job at the best entertainment law firm in Manhattan.

  “Mo, let’s test the waters.” Duane rubbed his hands together. “I’m feeling lucky.”

  “You sound like Dad,” Roderick joked. “Too bad you can’t fish like him!”

  As the clouds parted, the sun emerged and the mansions dotting the shore faded into the background. Gazing at the crystal-clear water, Morrison remembered all the times their dad had taken them fishing when they were kids, and wore a sad smile. They’d spend hours at the lake, cracking jokes, playing Frisbee, goofing around, and he’d never forget how much fun they’d had together. Morrison wished his father was healthy enough to join them on their monthly boating trips, but made a mental note to take a video of their outing to send to his dad. In the afternoon, they’d return to their family estate, barbecue their fresh catch and have lunch with their parents.

  Morrison turned off the boat. He grabbed his fishing rod, put a piece of bacon on the hook and cast his line into the deep. Staring intently at the water, looking for movement, he searched for signs of life down below. Helicopters flew overhead, ferrying the rich and famous to and from the city and disrupting the tranquil scenery, but Morrison saw fish swimming beneath the surface, and hoped he caught some striped sea bass for lunch.

  Birds chirped, the breeze whistled through the trees around the lake, and the sun climbed high in the brilliant, blue sky. It was the perfect escape from his demanding, nonstop schedule, and there was nowhere else in the world Morrison would rather be.

  Except with Karma, said his inner voice. She won’t see you, and you’re frustrated.

  Damn right, I’m frustrated, Morrison thought, gripping his fishing rod. He’d sent her a peace offering and apologized for his behavior at the lounge, but she was still giving him the cold shoulder, and he was sick of it. All week, he’d called her with no success. And, when he’d asked Reagan about her shift at the salon yesterday, and she’d casually mentioned that Karma had left in the afternoon with a Channing Tatum look-alike, his shoulders sank. Was that why Karma wasn’t returning his calls and texts? Because she was dating someone else? For the first time in his life, Morrison wished he was on social media. Wished he could see what she was up to, who she was spending her time with—

  “Hey, were you at the Cove Lounge last Sunday night? Toya was there with a friend, and she thought she caught a glimpse of you, but she didn’t recognize the woman you were with.”

  “I was with Karma Sullivan, the owner of the beauty salon Reagan works at.”

  “Don’t know her. Is she hot?”

  Morrison grinned. “Do you like partying with Rihanna?”

  “Hell yeah! RiRi is mad cool, not to mention fine as hell.”

  “And so is Karma. She’s smart and vivacious, and I enjoy her company.”

  Duane grinned. “Nothing like a hot summer fling to get the juices going.”

  Morrison kept his thoughts to himself, didn’t reveal his true feelings to his brothers, but he wanted more than a fling with Karma, liked the idea of them being exclusive. Her fiery personality left him wanting more, and these days the salon owner was all he could think about. How am I supposed to sweep Karma off her feet when she won’t give me the time of day? What will it take to get back in her good books?

  “I’m starving,” Roderick announced, patting his stomach. “Where’s the food?”

  “Keep your voice down. You’ll scare the fish.”

  “Damn, D, we’re in a boat, not the library. If you wanted peace and quiet you should have stayed home!” Roderick gave a hearty laugh, then jabbed his brothers in the sides with his elbows. “Now point me in the direction of the cooler, so I can have breakfast.”

  Roderick propped his fishing rod up against the bench and marched to the back of the boat, whistling with gusto. “There’s only fruit, sandwiches and bottled water in here,” he complained taking off his aviator-style sunglasses. “Where’s the booze?”

  Morrison was annoyed, but he spoke in a calm voice. “I didn’t bring any—”

  “Why not? Who goes fishing without beer? Drinking is what makes the trip fun.”

  “You always overdo it, and I didn’t want to risk you getting sick again.”

  “This is whack.” Roderick slammed the cooler shut. “I don’t need this shit. Turn the boat around. I’m going home.”

  Duane narrowed his gaze. “Did you come here to drink, or to hang out with us?”

  “Both. I’m stressed, and I need something to help me relax.” Hanging his head, he threw his hands in the air and paced the length of the boat. “You shouldn’t be ganging up on me. I’m going through hell at home, and at work and...it’s...it’s too much.”

  At first glance, Morrison thought Roderick was crying. His behavior was telling, and since nothing mattered more to him than his family, he set aside his fishing rod and approached Roderick. “What’s going on, bro? What’s wrong?”

  “Everything. I screwed up, and it could cost me my career, my reputation and my relationship.”

  Joining them at the rear of the boat, Duane said, “Bro, we can’t help you fix things if you don’t tell us what’s wrong.”

  “Last year, one of the new attorneys suggested I buy stocks in several mining companies based in Texas, and I did. Over several months, he gave me more tips, and because he’d been right the previous time I took his advice.”

  “How much was his cut?” Duane asked.

  Roderick hung his head. “Twenty grand per transaction.”

  A cold chill stabbed Morrison’s spine, and sweat drenched his white Nike T-shirt. He knew where the story was going, what Roderick and his colleague had done, and wanted to know how his brother could have been so stupid, so greedy. Their parents had given him everything he’d ever wanted, but it was never enough for him. After graduating from college, their parents had given them each five million dollars to invest with. Within two years, Morrison had doubled his money, but Roderick had nothing to show for it—except a money-hungry fiancée with champagne tastes. A full-time diva, with no career aspirations, Toya spent her days shopping and tweeting and bragging on her social media pages about her glamorous lifestyle.

  Morrison recalled the article he’d read about the Janssen family months earlier. Page Six reported that Simeon and Danika Janssen had lost everything after a series of bad investments, but Toya told Roderick the New York Post was wrong, claimed her family was still worth billions. Morrison didn’t believe her. If they were wealthy, why was she living off Roderick? Why didn’t she have any credit cards or properties in her name? Why did his brother have to support her financially? Cute, but hard to please, Morrison didn’t understand why his brother was smitten with her. Toya was demanding, and the only person in their family who liked her was Roderick.

  “His wife dropped by the office on Friday, and that’s when I discovered she’s a corporate lawyer working on several lucrative deals involving mining companies,” Roderick explained in a grave voice. “Connor got the information from his wife, but knew he couldn’t buy the stocks himself, so he used me to do it and like a fool I fell for his scheme.”

&
nbsp; “Has your colleague or his wife been arrested?” Duane asked.

  “No, not yet, but Connor’s scared out of his mind, and talking crazy. Yesterday, he told me he’s going to resign, clear out his bank accounts and head to Europe until things die down.”

  Morrison asked the question at the forefront of his mind, and hoped for his brother’s sake that his profit on the stock exchange was minimal. “How much money did you make?”

  A proud grin filled his mouth. “One point six million dollars. It’s enough to pay for the wedding, our honeymoon in Ibiza and matching his-and-her Ferraris.”

  “Does Toya know what’s going on?”

  The light in his eyes dimmed, and his demeanor changed, grew dark.

  “She told me to keep my mouth shut, and if the cops question me to deny everything...”

  Of course she did, Morrison thought, disgusted. Toya will do anything for money. “You better not,” Duane warned, giving his brother a shot in the arm. “The Securities Exchange and Commission is no joke, and if you lie to investigators you could be charged with obstructing justice.”

  “Or worse, end up in jail.” Morrison couldn’t imagine anything worse than being confined to a six-by-eight cell, and knew if Roderick was arrested his parents would be devastated. “If Martha Stewart can get jail time for lying to investigators, anyone can, so you have to be smart, or the judge will make an example of you in court.”

  Releasing a deep sigh, his shoulders bent, Roderick stared out at the morning sky.

  “I feel like my life is spiraling out of control, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

  “This is what you’re going to do,” Morrison advised in a stern voice. He had to get through to Roderick, needed his brother to understand the gravity of the situation. He’d traded on the stock exchange, after receiving confidential information from his colleague, and there was only one way to make things right. “First, you’re going to tell Mom and Dad what’s going on. Then, we’ll meet with investigators at the SEC, tell them the truth and repay the money.”

  Roderick slowly nodded his head. “I, ah, guess I could do that.”

  “Lastly, you’ll check yourself into a rehab facility to get clean and sober.”

  “A rehab facility?” Roderick repeated, shouting his words. “I don’t need rehab.”

  “Yes, you do. Your drinking has gotten out of hand, and we’re worried about you.”

  “Just because I smoke a little weed from time to time and down a few beers after a hard day’s work doesn’t mean I have a problem. I don’t.”

  “You can go somewhere discreet, and no one will ever have to know where you went,” Duane said. “You don’t have to do it alone, Roderick. We’ll do it together.”

  “I—I—I can’t go right now,” he stammered, shuffling his feet. “There’s a lot going on...”

  His excuses were endless, but his brothers didn’t back down, wouldn’t let him talk his way out of attending a treatment facility out of state.

  “When?” Duane pressed. “Give us a date, right here, right now.”

  Seconds passed, then what felt like minutes, but Roderick didn’t speak. He dropped down onto the bench, closed his eyes and rubbed his face with his hands.

  “We’re not returning to shore until you tell us when you’re going to rehab.”

  “I can’t take time off work. My clients can’t survive a week without me, let alone a month,” he argued, lines wrinkling his forehead. “And what about Toya? Our wedding is right around the corner. She needs me to help finalize the details.”

  Duane disagreed. “No, you need to take care of yourself. Everything else can wait.”

  Morrison felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket, and even though he was anxious to hear from Karma, he didn’t retrieve his cell, wanted to give Roderick his undivided attention.

  “Fine,” he said with a pensive expression on his face, his voice resigned. “I’ll meet with the SEC in May, after Memorial Day, then I’ll go to treatment.”

  “You’re making the right choice,” Duane said. “I’m proud of you, bro.”

  Releasing the breath he’d been holding, Morrison ruffled Roderick’s short, black hair. “So am I, and I’ll do everything in my power to help you.”

  Chapter 11

  “Who is that in the navy pinstripe suit?” the statuesque masseuse asked, wetting her peach lips with her pierced tongue. “Damn, he’s so fine I want to have his babies!”

  All of the women at the bar cheered and giggled, but Karma didn’t turn around. Knew the masseuse was all talk, would rather build her mobile, esthetician business than find true love. They’d met at Networking After Dark months earlier, and every week the brunette sang the same tune. She’d meet a guy, take him home, then complain when he didn’t call her for a second date. Karma didn’t understand why the Miami native with the high IQ didn’t smarten up and quit letting men use and mistreat her, but she kept her opinion to herself. They were acquaintances, not besties, and Karma didn’t want to ruffle anyone’s feathers.

  “I do business with musicians, athletes, Bollywood stars and even Oscar winners...”

  Tasting her margarita, Karma blocked out the raucous noise at the bar and listened to what the hedge fund manager was saying about his famous clients. Didn’t want to miss a word. Committed everything he said to memory. Not because he was charismatic or entertaining, because Karma was determined to take Beauty by Karma to the next level, and it started with having rich, influential friends. She’d made a point of not only introducing herself to everyone at the event, but also handing out business cards and connecting with like-minded professionals.

  The Palm East Hampton was the quintessential New York steak house, and the lively crowd, and club-like atmosphere, made the restaurant one of the best places to eat on the island. The courteous staff, celebrity sightings and outstanding wine list attracted diners from all over the state, and every week Karma looked forward to attending Networking After Dark at her favorite Hamptons bar.

  Animated conversation and boisterous laughter filled the air, and the lounge was so crowded Karma couldn’t move without bumping into someone, but she was in no rush to go home. Wanted to mingle and socialize for hours more. She’d been working like a dog all week, and she deserved to relax and unwind.

  Feeling her cell vibrate inside her clutch purse, Karma took it out of the side pocket and punched in her password. Raising an eyebrow, she tapped her fingernail against her cell phone case. She had three new text messages from Morrison, and reading them made her giggle. He was as charming as he was persistent, but Karma didn’t respond to his messages. Knew if she did they’d end up back in bed, and two people with strong personalities had no business being together—not even for one night. In his message, he’d asked her to have a drink with him, but Karma knew what Morrison wanted, and she wasn’t going to fall for his smooth speech.

  “I have two tickets to see Star Wars the Musical, and I want you to be my date.”

  The hedge fund manager asked for her number, and Karma wore a polite smile. He smelled of Vicks VapoRub, and she wasn’t sexually attracted to him, but she searched inside her purse for a business card. Finding one, Karma handed it to him and waved goodbye.

  “He’s exactly my type,” the masseuse proclaimed. “And I have to meet him.”

  Karma glanced over her shoulder, searching the lounge for the man in the navy pinstripe suit who’d caught the masseuse’s eye. Morrison raised his glass in the air, and a sly grin claimed his mouth. Her heartbeat sped up. She hadn’t been the same since the day he’d stormed into her salon, slinging insults, and sleeping with him only intensified her feelings. Made her desire him more.

  Morrison beckoned her over with a flick of his head, but she didn’t move. Stayed put. Dodged his gaze. The masseuse squealed, cheered so loud Karma feared she’d have permanent hearing loss in
her right ear, and shot the brunette a what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you look. Of course. The masseuse thought Morrison was flirting with her, and maybe he was.

  “Don’t go over there,” Karma warned. “Trust me, you’re too much woman for Judge Morrison Drake. He prefers quiet, docile types he can control, not strong, accomplished women with ideas and opinions, who think for themselves.”

  “His name is Morrison?” Her almond-shaped eyes widened. “What a sexy name!”

  “Don’t do it. I know what I’m talking about.”

  “Someone sounds bitter,” the masseuse replied. “What happened? You made a move on him, and he shot you down, huh?”

  Karma shrugged a shoulder. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Warn me?” Laughing long and hard, as if she was watching an episode of Modern Family, the masseuse stuck out her chest and flipped her long, lush curls over her shoulders. “I’m not trying to be conceited, but look at me. I’m impossible to resist.”

  “Just so you know, Morrison cares more about a woman’s personality than her physical appearance,” Karma said.

  “Is that right? For someone who doesn’t like him, you sure know a lot about him.”

  “His niece works part-time at my salon, and I’ve, um, talked to him a few times.”

  You’ve done a lot more than talk! quipped her inner voice.

  “I think you should go over there and show us how it’s done, Ms. Personality.”

  Karma faked a laugh. “As if! You’re the one lusting over him, Chrissy, not me.”

  “Put your money where your mouth is,” she challenged, propping her hands on her hips. “I bet a hundred bucks you won’t get his number, but I will.”

  “A hundred bucks?” Karma repeated, twirling an index finger in the air. “Girl, please. That’s chump change. Make it a thousand and you’re on.”

  All at once, the women opened their designer purses and placed their bets. To Karma’s surprise, everyone put their money on Chrissy. If they only knew! Karma thought, as memories of her passionate night with him filled her mind. I’ve done things with Morrison that would make a dominatrix blush!