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His thoughts were interrupted by shouting and banging, and finally his door flew open.
“What the hell?”
Mr. Adkins came barreling into the office, his face flushed, eyes narrowed. “Where the hell is my money, Smith?”
Louis took a deep breath. He needed to calm the man down, speak in a quiet voice. Get him to leave. He gave him a welcoming smile. “Your money is right where it should be, Richard. Invested. Earning more money for you.”
“Oh, yeah? Well I’ve been hearing about this money I’ve been earning for over five years now. You keep telling me it’s being reinvested. Well, I’m telling you, I want it. Now. Everything I gave you, plus interest.”
“I can’t just pull all your money out right now. You have to be careful how the Market is manipulated.” He hated the way the sweat trickled down his back. He should not let this idiot threaten him.
“The only manipulation I see going on is right here in front of me. I want my money. Now.” He gestured with his chin toward the file cabinet. “Pull your checkbook out and write me a check while I wait. Anyone with all the money you claim to be making for your clients can write a check for my account.”
“You’re not being reasonable, Mr. Adkins. I need a couple of days to transfer funds.”
Adkins studied him, no doubt wondering how truthful he was being. “All right. Two days. I’ll be back on Thursday.” He headed toward the door, then turned. “And you’d better have that check ready. If you’re not here, I’ll be visiting you at your fancy home.”
Louis took a deep breath when the door in the outer office slammed. He pulled his ledger out from his middle drawer and checked his bank balance. There was certainly enough to cover Adkins’ account but that would leave them with virtually nothing. He needed to get more clients.
And where the hell was Sanders that he was never here when irate clients showed up? He shoved the checkbook back into the desk drawer and rose.
“I’m out for the afternoon,” he snapped at Miss Blake as he fled the office.
Fled, indeed. He was a respectable businessman. No client should be able to threaten him. He ought to report the man’s bullying to the police.
After a hearty lunch washed down by several beers and a few shots of whiskey, he drove several miles outside of town to Miss Betsy’s Club For Discriminating Gentlemen. Miss Betsy provided the cleanest and most accommodating girls in all of Texas. One in particular even allowed the rough handling he preferred.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Smith. May I get you a drink?” The madam slithered up to him in a gown much too small for her corpulent frame. Her breasts were in danger of falling completely out, and the slit up the side of her dress showed more leg than a woman of her age and size should have been flaunting.
“Yeah, I’ll take a whiskey. Is Constanza available?”
“Ah, your favorite. She is busy right now, but if you will take a seat and enjoy your drink, she will be available in a little while. In the meantime I can have one of the other girls keep you company.” She winked to indicate just what type of company the girl would provide.
Louis sank into a comfortable, well stuffed chair. Within minutes a young whore sauntered over with two drinks in her hand. Her drink was no more than colored water, but he would be charged for a whiskey for each of them. It was the way things were.
“What’s your name, beautiful?”
“Wendy.” She grinned, giving the impression of a fresh, just-off-the-farm girl. She had a scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, a slight space between her front teeth, and a young body. All of that in stark contrast to the dress she wore that barely covered her feminine parts.
He patted his thighs. “Come and sit here.”
She giggled and settled on his lap. She reminded him of his wife, sweet and stupid. He fondled her a bit but since he had one at home just like her, there was no thrill in doing much more. He was anxious for Constanza to be free. She understood his appetites and allowed him more freedom that any other whore he’d ever had. And certainly more than his frigid wife.
A dark mood passed over him at the thought of Emily. He should be home demanding she service him the way he liked instead of paying someone else to do it. He grinned at how shocked she always was when he did things to his liking. After the first few times on their honeymoon when he laid down the law and let her know with a few slaps how things would be, she was much more obedient.
But the revulsion in her eyes every time he touched her made him want to hurt her more. Who the hell did she think she was, anyway? Too good for him? He might have started out as a two-bit bank robber, but dammit, he’d made something of himself.
“Hey, get me another drink.” He yanked lightly on the whore’s hair. “My glass has been empty for a while.”
Wendy’s smile dimmed and she pouted. “Ouch. That hurt.”
“So what? Get me a drink.” He shoved her, and only a quick movement on her part kept her from landing on the floor. She flounced off.
“Hey Betsy, when’s Constanza gonna be done?” He shouted across the room, gaining the attention of several whores, and the men they were entertaining. The drinks were hitting him and he wanted to get down to business before he could no longer perform.
Miss Betsy glided across the floor, nodding pleasantly at the customers. “Mr. Smith, you must be a little patient. She will be finished soon, and I’m sure she will make you very happy.”
He snorted. “She’d better. You sure charge enough.”
