by Levine, Nina
“What’s the second rule?” I teased her.
She was straight on it though. “Second rule is, if you hate someone, I hate them too. And third rule is, I’ve always got your back. You need me, you call me. I don’t care what time of day it is. I live by that quote, it’s the friends you can call at four am that matter.”
“I think I love you even more than I loved you before I rang you. And I’m even feeling better too.”
“Well, you just remember that. And don’t forget that I’m a jealous bitch too.”
Laughing, I said, “I know. I’ve seen you in action over Ben. God forbid any woman that makes a move on your man.”
“Yeah, my husband knows how it is. And I feel the same way about you.”
I sighed. “Seriously, Cass, you’ve made my day. You always manage to cheer me up when I’m feeling down.”
“That’s what I’m here for. Now, back to your job situation. I know you’ve always wanted to pursue your art, and you’re a damn good artist so I think you should look into ways to get your art out there.”
“I don’t think it’s something that can earn me a living.”
“You won’t know unless you try though, will you?”
“Mmmm...”
“Mmmm’s your way of fobbing me off, and I’m not letting you do that this time. We need to get your paintings into a gallery.”
“Oh, God, you’re taking over, aren’t you?” Memories of the time that Cassie had harassed a car dealer into selling a car to me for less than he wanted to came to mind.
“Think of it as me being your manager. Christ, I need something to keep me occupied while Ben has me stuck at home being his Stepford wife.”
“You’re the farthest thing from a freaking Stepford wife. Ben could only hope for you to be submissive but we all know that you wear the pants in that relationship.”
“Okay, okay, you’re right. Anyway, leave it with me; I’ll get you into a gallery. You just start painting.”
I could hear the excitement in her voice. Cassie loved a mission. “It’s all yours, but I may need to get a part time job in the meantime.”
“Do what you’ve gotta do, but like I said, get painting.”
“Yes, boss,” I promised, and we finished our conversation.
I spent the next few hours pampering myself, hoping it would negate the effects of the hangover. I showered and gave myself a facial, pedicure and manicure. At the end of it all, I felt a million times better. So, it was on that high that I received a phone call from my mum that shot all my plans to shit.
“Harlow, honey, one of the fridges at the café died. I’m rushing around trying to sort all the food into the other fridge, but I’m pretty busy and could do with a hand serving customers while I take care of it.” She sounded frazzled.
“Sure, Mum. Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be there.”
“You’re a lifesaver. Thank you,” she replied, and hung up.
I quickly threw on a dress, grabbed my keys and bag, and drove the short distance to Mum’s café. We lived about six minutes from it, which I loved because traffic and I didn’t see eye to eye. There were way too many idiots on the road, and too many road rules to follow.
Mum’s body sagged a little when she saw me walk through the front door. The tension just whooshed out of her. Being such a strong, independent woman since the day my father died when I was fifteen, she had a tendency to take everything on by herself and hated to ask for help.
“Thanks for coming,” she greeted me, and gave me a hug.
I grabbed an apron and shooed her with my hands, “Go. Sort your fridges. I’ll take care of the customers.”
She saluted me. “Yes, honey. I’m gone.” And with that, she darted out to the back kitchen.
I spent the next few hours making coffees and serving food. It was a fairly busy afternoon, and the time flew by. Mum dealt with her fridge storage issues and then made calls to find out about getting the fridge fixed. Just after five thirty she appeared at the counter looking upset. I’d just locked the front door after seeing the last customer out.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her with a sinking feeling. Mum was such a practical person; not much made her look that down.
“I need a new fridge and that’s going to cost thousands. Thousands that I don’t have.”
“Shit.”
She exhaled loudly. “Just when things were turning around. Why is it always two steps forward and five steps back? For once, I just want things to be easy.”
I went to her and grabbed her in a huge hug. “We’ll work it out, Ma. We always do.”
She clung to me for a few minutes and then pulled away, exhausted eyes searching mine. “I’m not sure how this time, Harlow. It feels like we’re at the end of our rope. And I’m not sure I have it in me to fight anymore. I’m sick of rolling with the punches. I’m black and blue from them.”
My heart cracked a little more for her. She’d done so much for me in my life; made so many sacrifices. It was my turn now to do that for her. And I knew I had at least one option open to me.
“I’ll help. I think I can get a night job and that will help pay for the fridge. But I need to go there now before they give the job to someone else. Will you be okay to close up by yourself?”
She nodded, relief flooding her face. “Thank you,” she almost whispered, and I could tell she was fighting tears.
“I love you, Mum. And I’ll do anything to make this work.”
“I love you too, baby girl. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
I left her to close up, and flew down Sandgate Road towards the Valley. Our café was at Clayfield and Scott’s club was in the Valley. Unfortunately, it was bloody peak hour so traffic was a bitch. What would normally take me ten minutes, took me just over twenty. Between that trip and finding a park when I got there, I’d managed to yell abuse at one driver and give another the finger. As I walked to the club from the carpark, I contemplated the intelligence of my decision to give up smoking a year ago. I could really do with a cigarette right about now.
When I got to the front door it was locked. Damn it. I probably should have realised they wouldn’t be open at six o’clock at night. Digging in my bag, I found my phone and Googled their phone number. No answer. Shit. I dialed it again, hoping to annoy them into answering but still no answer.
“Can I help you?” a deep voice surprised me from behind. I spun around and was met with the greenest eyes I think I’d ever seen.
“Do you work here?”
“Who’s asking?”
I stepped back and ran my gaze over him. He was tall and dressed in similar clothes to what Scott had been wearing the last time I saw him; jeans, black t-shirt, biker vest and boots. He didn’t appear to have any tattoos but he was rocking the chunky rings; just about every finger had a ring on it. And he was stacked with muscles. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, and the corded muscles in his arms screamed at me for attention.
“My name’s Harlow, and I’m looking for Scott. Scott Cole; do you know him?”
Nodding, he sized me up. He must have decided I was okay because he stepped around me and unlocked the front door, ushering me in. I entered and got a good look at the club as it was lit up. Oh, good Lord, that carpet. It was worse than the carpet you saw in an RSL club; gaudy as hell. But I figured that no-one would be paying much attention to it and besides, the lights were usually off during business hours. Red seemed to be the main colour of Indigo; red carpet splashed with little black symbols, red walls, and red seats that had a touch of black on them. There was a circular bar area a little off centre to the right as you entered the room, and the stage where I was guessing the strippers did their thing was to the left.
I followed the guy past the bar, around to the right, and through a locked door. Now we were in a short hallway that we followed to the end, at which point he stopped and knocked on the door we were now standing in front of.
“Scott, you free? I’ve go
t a Harlow here to see you.”
I waited quietly, watching the guy and wondering about him. There was something about him; something that told me not to screw with him. He had the look and the aura of a man that you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley.
My thoughts were interrupted when the door flung open and Scott appeared, looking a little tense. He frowned when he saw me. “What’s wrong?”
I was quick to reassure him because he really did look worried. “Nothing’s wrong. I just came to ask you something.”
That seemed to placate him; the tension eased off his face and his shoulders relaxed a little. “Sure,” he said, and moved aside to let me into his office. Nodding at the guy, he said, “Thanks, Griff. Can you make sure Amy’s stocked the fridge at the bar?”
Griff nodded slowly, his attention still on me. It was disconcerting; almost like he was sizing me up, trying to work out if I was the enemy. I had no idea what that was about. Finally, he made a move to leave. “Will do.”
After he’d left, Scott turned to me. “Out with it, babe. What do you need?”
“I need that job if it’s still going.” My tummy was full of butterflies and I wasn’t sure if I was nervous about asking for the job or whether just being around Scott was affecting me.
“I thought you didn’t want to work in a strip club.”
Moment of truth. I decided to be honest; I figured Scott was the type to appreciate full disclosure. “I’ll be honest, I don’t really want to. However, I need to; to help support my mother and I.”
“Sit,” he ordered me, and pointed to a couch against the wall.
I did as I was told, and he leant against his desk, crossing his feet. He wrapped one arm around his torso while the other one balanced on it, his hand supporting his chin.
“Is your mother sick?”
“No. She runs her own café and times have been tough. That’s why I moved back to Brisbane; to help her keep it afloat and help pay her mortgage. Things were looking up, and they still are, but one of her fridges died today and she needs a new one, which is going to cost her a fair bit of money.”
He nodded. “Right. So now you need this job to help pay for that,” he stated, deep in thought.
“Yes.”
I waited while he continued to mull it over, although I wasn’t sure what he had to think about; either he had a job for me or he didn’t. Eventually he pushed off from the desk and walked around to the other side and sat. He picked up his phone and dialed a number. His eyes landed on me while he waited for the person to answer; they were serious, with no crinkle.
The person finally answered, and he spoke, “Hey, brother, I need a fridge for a cafe. Not sure exactly what yet, but you able to help me out?”
I struggled to maintain my composure. He was getting me a fridge? I just wanted a job.
Scott continued to discuss fridges with the person on the other end of the phone and then he hung up. “That’s sorted, babe. Tomorrow I’ll call you to get the info on the fridge you need and it’ll be delivered tomorrow afternoon.”
“Umm... I don’t think my Mum has the money to pay for it yet. The idea was for me to get this job and we’d save for a new fridge.”
“You can’t run a café without a fridge. We’ll get that sorted first. You can have the job here and we can discuss you paying for the fridge later.” His tone was clear; this is how it would be, and don’t argue with me.
“No, I’ll work here and save, and then get the fridge. We can’t ask that of you.”
“You didn’t. But you’re getting it anyway.” Before I could argue anymore, another guy appeared at the door. Holy heck, did God rain hot, sexy men down into this club? This guy was smoking. Upon closer inspection, I realised it was Madison’s boyfriend, J. I’d met him at the barbeque but I hadn’t really paid much attention to him as I was focusing more on Scott.
He had his phone in his hand and looked stressed. “Scott, Madison’s on the phone. She says the cat really wants that fucking collar off and won’t shut up about it. I’ve got shit I’m supposed to be taking care of and the last fucking thing I need is her on my ass about your cat.” He held his phone out to Scott. “Talk to her and sort this shit out, brother.”
Scott scowled him, but took the phone. “Jesus, Madison, it’s a fucking cat for Christ’s sake. Deal with it. I’ll be over in a couple of hours to get him.” He looked at me, and then said to her, “Hang on a minute.”
Moving the phone away from his mouth, he asked me, “Can she take the collar off the cat?”
I figured they were talking about Monty. “No, don’t take it off because he’ll scratch his wound and it could get infected. And then you’ll be up for more money.” I was a little confused as to why Madison had Monty.
He mouthed thanks at me, and then moved the phone back in place, “Whatever you fucking do, don’t take that collar off the cat. He’s already cost me a fortune.”
Ending his conversation, he hung up and gave the phone back to the guy, who took one last look at me and then left us alone.
“Do you always talk to people like that? And why does Madison have Monty?” I asked.
“Like what?”
“You were so rude to her.”
“Madison can be a pain in the ass.”
I stood up, and smoothed my dress down, not failing to notice Scott checking out my legs. I could thank the running I did for that.
“Where I come from, we would never talk to our sister that way.”
“And where’s that?” he asked as he stood and walked around the desk.
“Gympie.”
“You’re straight up country, aren’t you?”
“What does that mean?”
He chuckled. “Just making an observation. It’s refreshing actually.”
I had no idea what he meant by that so I ignored it. “You never answered me. Why does Madison have Monty?”
“Couldn’t trust Michelle with him so I asked Madison to look after him for awhile. She loves cats.”
As he said this, he moved so he was next to me and put his hand on my arm to guide me out of the office. Locking the door behind him, he then ushered me down the hall and back into the club. Being this close to him was intoxicating, and his touch sent a thrill through me. It was a good thing that he’d stopped talking to me because only gibberish would have come out of my mouth in reply.
I followed him to the bar where he stopped and faced me.
“You ever worked a bar before?”
Nodding, I said, “Yeah, I know how to pour a beer.”
“Thank fuck for that.” He motioned to the girl behind the bar to get her attention. I recognised her from the other night. “Amy, Harlow’s going to be starting tomorrow night. She’s got experience but I’ll need you to show her the ropes.”
“Sure,” Amy agreed, and smiled at me.
Scott turned to me. “That work for you?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He gave me one short nod. “Good. I’ll leave you to chat with Amy about what to wear and when to arrive. I’ve got to go.”
“Okay. And again, thank you for the job.”
He’d already started to walk away, but he looked back at me and said, “Don’t forget to call me first thing in the morning with that fridge info.”
“Right, will do.”
He exited out the front door of the club, and I wondered just what I’d gotten myself into. Sure I’d done bar work before, but never in a strip club. And besides all that, I’d be working for Scott Cole, and I really wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
Chapter 10
Scott
What the fuck had I just agreed to?
Harlow was sweet as fucking pie. I wasn’t sure she’d cut it at Indigo, and yet I’d said yes to her working there. Christ, I was thinking with my dick. And speaking of my dick, I really needed to get laid; it’d been over a week since I’d seen any pussy and that was a week too fucking long.
“Scott, where the fuck have y
ou been?”
I eyed my father; my thoughts interrupted. He was sitting with Griff and J at a table in the corner of the clubhouse bar, waiting for me, and appeared to be irritated.
I grabbed a chair and turned it around so that I was sitting with its back to my front. “Hiring staff for Indigo,” I snapped at him.
“Good. That’s one headache gone. And it looks like the situation with Blade and Bullet might have resolved itself too.”
My skepticism kicked in. “Really?”
Dad looked really pissed off with me now. “Why the fuck can’t you get past your issues with Blade?”
“I don’t trust him. Not sure I ever will. So when you say that he’s suddenly agreed to pull back on his plans to move more coke, I don’t buy it.”
“He’s given me his word.”
I snorted. “His word means nothing to me. I think we need to still be on guard for shit to go down between him and Black Deeds.”
Dad slammed his hand down on the table; he was wearing his anger. “Been the President of Storm for a long fucking time, son. I’m always on fucking guard so don’t tell me how to do that part of my job. It’s fucking insulting. As for Blade, I don’t want to hear another fucking word from you about him. He’s my son and when he gives me his word, I trust it.”
I glared at him, seething at his words. My relationship with my father was completely fucked to the point that I hated him now; hated what he’d done to my mother and hated that he’d had a whole other family. What kind of man did that to his wife and kids? Obviously the kind of man that I didn’t know quite as well as I thought I did.
“Griff, can I see you in my office? Got some paperwork I need you to look at,” he said and left with Griff.
J blew out a breath. “I fucking hate your old man.”
“You’re not the only one, brother,” I said as I shoved my hand through my hair.
We sat in silence for a moment, contemplating that, but J was like me and hated going over and over shit so he moved on to another subject quickly. “Hey, what’s with the blonde you hired? Saw the way you looked at her.”
“How the fuck did I look at her?”
He smirked. “Hate to break it to you, but I’ve never seen you look at a woman that way before.”