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I didn’t know exactly why my father did this, but he was becoming as regular as the tide.
Rebecca was decent as far as my father’s relationships went. I had a feeling she valued her role at my father’s side more than she valued her marriage. A chance at being the First Lady was far more titillating than the alimony she would win in court.
“Rebecca is good company and one of my pillars of support, but I could not imagine traveling for months without seeing you,” he said, a kind smile masking his true intentions.
“I can’t miss work. But if you give me an itinerary, I’ll see what I can do.”
This was enough to end the subject. That and Rebecca bustling in from the backyard.
“They forgot two of the tables but will bring them when they bring the chairs tomorrow morning. The decorator should be here in the afternoon with her crew.” She continued her report with only mild irritation lacing her words. “They will just have to start on the strings of lights and buffet tables until all the tables and chairs are in place.”
My father nodded along but didn’t bother to add anything.
I dipped a cold shrimp in the spicy cocktail sauce then bit down, savoring several more before the end of Rebecca’s droning about her list of tasks.
She finally turned to me. “I need you to go upstairs and pick which dress you’re going to wear. In your room. On the bed.”
“Rebecca has chosen several that will look beautiful on you. Keep the rest. The receipts are in the garment bags,” my father added, knowing that the hundreds of dollars he spent on them would be going into my pocket in the next few days when I returned the hideous things.
She shooed me up the stairs. Her voice followed me up until I reached the guest room that had been deemed mine.
A light-pink calf-length dress had been laid at the foot of the bed. Lined up at its hem was a pair of white, short-heeled shoes.
Ugly.
The combination reminded me of the church outfits my nanny would force me into every Sunday morning.
Pass.
The other dress was purple—maybe more eggplant—with a pair of black heels.
I held it in front of me. It wasn’t skimpy, but there had to have been a mistake. There was no way my father would have approved this dress around so many of his donors. The hem landed at mid-thigh, and the neckline was curved. Not enough for a scandal, but I was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I grabbed it up along with the others I hadn’t bothered to consider and headed back downstairs.
“Find one that fits the occasion?” my father asked over his shoulder.
“Yeah, I think so.” I hiked up the armful of garment bags. “I have to head back to work. I’ll see you Friday.”
I gave him a peck on the cheek and dashed out the door before Rebecca could rope me into any other expectations.
5
STOLAS
“And look who has finally graced us with his presence,” Sitri shouted across the empty club.
He and Ezequiel were bantering back and forth over a bottle of liquor, the oak bar top between them.
Sitri stood stacking glasses for his barbacks while Ezequiel lounged uselessly on a stool. He and I had never gotten along, but since he’d taken his position as Sitri’s right hand, I’d had to deal with him much more than I preferred.
Orobas was nowhere to be seen, but I knew he was lurking around. He would never miss the opening of the VIP floor we had invested in.
I scoffed. “Has it gotten so dire that you will be tending bar tonight, brother?”
“Foolish man. I have recruited several beautiful humans to pour tonight,” Ezequiel answered. “Of course, only about half will survive the weekend.”
He smirked at Sitri, sharing the moment of cruel humor. The walls of the club were lined with secrets, and its rooms, hallways, and passageways led individuals into realms of endless darkness. The hidden rooms were used for spur-of-the-moment seductions between patrons and demons. The hallways could lead someone into the arms of a toxic stranger for the night if they were feeling lonely enough. The abyss, on the other hand, was not used as often as I thought it should have been.
