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“I’m out of here, Stephen. That bitch didn’t look sixteen, and in a club like this you don’t expect to see women that young.”
“A girl, you mean, not a woman,” I say, wanting to express that she is actually still a child. Fuck! Being underage is one thing, but sixteen really is still a child. Especially in a club like this.
“This better not come down on me, Stephen, you take care of this.” John struts out of my private room, heading back down to the club. John is an asshole, through and through. A well-monied, semi-regular customer of the club, who is also the Chief Justice of the Massachusetts Supreme Court. He is a man of wealth and power who comes to my club and usually sits in the discreet areas of the VIP lounge. He is in his fifties and dances dangerously close to young women when he really needs to be looking for women over the age of forty, or perhaps even go home to his wife. He is a slimy prick who probably brought the girl in himself, but with no proof, I can’t throw out accusations like that. Given his position, I give him a private VIP booth whenever he comes, which is usually only fortnightly. I keep away from him, and he keeps away from me. Until now.
I rub my temples, it is 2am. I can’t believe what just happened. Here I was thinking I would never see her again, and the woman I have been thinking about all day rocks up to my club. No, she sneaks into my club, looking all sexy like a lazy Sunday morning. Her hair was in a messy top knot, and she wore jeans that showed off a fine looking ass that I just wanted to bite. She is just as sweet as I imagined her to be. But tonight, she brought a world of trouble with her.
Underage in my club is something I don't take lightly, and there is a very real possibility that I could get shut down - especially if she was drinking and our staff served her. I grab my phone and text Jake to come up to my private room. I need to get as much evidence as I can on file in case we need it, and I have to get a new front door security team who can actually do their fucking job.
I stand up and walk to the bar, grabbing a bottle of water to try and wash out the bad feelings that are accumulating in my body. Waiting for Jake, I spin the business card in my hand. Molly. Molly Williams. Social Worker at The Boys and Girls Club in Boston. A little ray of sunshine in my otherwise dark, stormy life.
Molly. I have never known a name to suit a person as well as it does her. I can tell she is shy but also a little feisty when she is in protection mode, which is a nice quality to have. You can tell she cares about the young girl, Jasmine, and is passionate about her work, but at the same time, she is a delicate, soft woman like no other I have ever met. It is a crazy contradiction, but she intrigues me, and my groin twitches just thinking about her. Before I get too carried away with more daydreaming of Molly, Jake walks in, and I rub my eyes to try and erase the pictures of Molly that were forming.
“We have a problem,” I say to him as he takes a seat. Jake is a quiet man, former navy seal, and he manages the security for Shaun, Marco, and myself. At the moment, he is helping run both of my clubs, because I was working myself to the bone and needed some support. He was part of the security team that rescued Scarlett and I, when my father had captured us and beaten me nearly to death. Jake is big, burly, tattooed and gruff, he takes no prisoners and will inflict pain if necessary. He is also one of my best friends and closest confidants, and I am only one of a few people who get to see his funny and relaxed side which comes out at our family functions that he often attends, or during a gym session where he usually puts me to shame on the bench press.
I relay all the information to Jake that I have learned tonight and together we work out a course of action, starting with securing the video footage from this evening to see how Jasmine got into the club and what happened to her while she was here. We also put steps in motion to source talent for a new security team for the front door, doubling the number of guys. Both tasks will be done by the morning.
“Also, do a search and watch across our friend John. I have a feeling he is going to be trouble for us, and I want to get ahead of it.” We scan all ID’s when people enter the club and so getting a background check on anyone who frequents is an easy task. If John has any skeletons in his closet, we will find them. I didn’t like how he spoke to Molly earlier so I will be happy to take him down and even happier to blacklist him from Nitro. Although, I need to tread carefully; he has a lot of contacts that could make my life a living hell. If I see him again, it will be too soon.
“He is a five-star asshole, that is for sure,” Jake mumbles. Jake gives a score out of five stars for many things in his life, a quirk he has from his military days. He nods as he stands to leave, ready to put plans in motion.
‘One more thing, Jake,” I say, as I meet his eyes over the top of my water bottle, his eyebrows quirk up in interest. “One of our cars drove home the two ladies tonight. I want full address details of where the car dropped them.”
“I am onto it,” Jake says, with a sly grin, telling me he knows exactly why I am asking, then he departs my room as silently as he entered.
The club is starting to slow down and looking at my watch again, I groan. It has been a long fucking night. As I finish my drink, I take a seat in my lounge and relax, pulling my phone from my pocket to bring up Google and research The Boys and Girls Club. I can see that they do amazing work and offer a lot of support to the young people of Boston. As I continue to read and learn more about the programs and support they offer, I feel my heart pump with feeling for the first time in a while and my need to do more for these kids envelops me.
Not wanting to stick around any longer, I gather my things and make my way downstairs and get into my car to head home. I sink into the leather seats as Chris drives us away from the club. He leaves me with my thoughts, knowing that I need quiet after a hectic night. Jake is always on duty and closes up for me, whether I am in or out of the club. He runs on little sleep and any other man would be exhausted, but I think he has his body and mind trained well from his time in the military, so he can survive and thrive on minimal sleep for long periods of time. Occasionally, he takes time off and goes to his lake house in Hancock, a small town on the border of Massachusetts and New York State, which is like the end of the world.
I assume he is like a bear that goes there to hibernate and store all his sleep and energy to recharge ready for more. My phone pings, and I see a message from Jake with two addresses, both located in Dorchester. It is a suburb I don’t frequent at all; the crime rate in that part of the city is high and no one I know lives there - well, until now.
The fact that Molly lives there gives me pause. I hadn’t thought about her personal circumstances, too enamored with her beauty, but I don’t like that she lives in a part of Boston that isn’t considered very safe - especially at nighttime. The urge to protect her came on strongly to me tonight. I nearly punched one of our top customers because he called her a bitch. The feeling of wanting her and wanting to look after her is suddenly very real and one that I haven’t felt for a very long time.
I run my hands through my hair to quiet my thoughts. Chris pulls up to my building, and I nod to Ronald, then make my way straight up the elevator to my apartment. I open the door and the peace envelopes me as I go through the motions to shower and change and fall into bed, heavy from the night's events. It is not until I’m in bed falling asleep that I realize for the first time in two years my head is no longer thumping, and it hasn’t been relieved by sex or whiskey.
I’ve only had one thing on my mind tonight and that’s Molly.
***
6
MOLLY
My alarm wakes me up with a start and I bang my hand on my side table to try and make it stop. I have only had a few hours of sleep, and I am exhausted, but I need to get up and check on gran, her health being my priority for today.
She was still sleeping when I came home in the early hours of this morning, but I need to take her to the doctor, and I thank God that my job provides basic medical insurance that helps to pay her medical bills. We don’t have a lot of money, but we make do. We don’t indulge in holidays or fancy shopping trips, and we lead a quiet life, never going out for dinner or to the movies, but we pay our bills on time and continue to make repayments on the house.
My biggest indulgence is the regular purchase of second-hand books from the local thrift store. Irene manages the store and I go in each month, grabbing a big box of books for $10 - it is my guilty pleasure. I love the feel of a book, the smell of the pages, and I often wonder what type of people have read the book before me. What they thought of it and if they loved it as much as I do. My bookshelf is nearly overflowing because I just can’t part with any of them. I love to read; it is my escape from the real world and my imagination provides some really wonderful scenarios in my head.
Sitting up, I yawn and stretch before I quickly shower, change, and tidy up, then check on gran. Not wanting to startle her, I peek into her bedroom. She is awake and is starting to cough, so I walk to the kitchen to get her a fresh glass of water. As I fill the glass, I start to worry about her again. I think I need to take her to the medical clinic this morning. It is time. I walk back up to her room and see Stephen’s jacket hanging in the laundry as I walk past the door. I sigh, another time, another world maybe, but not for me. I need to somehow get it back to him. I walk into gran’s bedroom and lean in to support her head while she takes a drink.
“I’m all right, dear, don’t fuss over me.”
“I think we need to visit the medical center, gran, because your breathing doesn’t sound right and the coughing has increased. Let me get your things together and help you change.”
Gran nods. While she doesn’t want to be a burden, I know that she isn’t feeling well, so a visit to the doctor is a necessity at this point. I help her change and gather a few things in a bag, then together we climb into our much-loved beast, an old yellow rusted 1982 Ford Escort called Essie. She is a death trap on the road, but our only means of transport and although we are no mechanics, we try and take good care of her so she lasts as long as possible since a new car is something we simply cannot afford. We even have beautiful, purple knitted seat covers than gran made a few years ago so she is nice and colorful. It takes me a few tries before the engine kicks over and Essie starts after a few little revs of the accelerator, the engine warming up, then we are off.
When we arrive at the medical clinic, it is busy. It is a small space attached to the Mass General Hospital, so it is full of the typical Sunday morning scene of drunken party goers who have had accidents or too many drugs from the night before. It smells of antiseptic and is bright white from the floor tiles to the ceiling. I get gran comfortable in the waiting room and then go to see the nurses at the desk to report her in. After filling in the required paperwork, I am told our wait will be a long one, so I go back and take a seat near gran, settling us both in for a long wait as I begin to fill her in on the late night I had, chasing Jasmine around the city.
