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“I am right.”
Holding up her hands, stopping Maxi from saying any more, Dylan asked, “Assuming you are right, why would this Terry guy be talking to Ari? The club is legal. Everything is legit. Hell, I have even helped do the taxes for you. What is he after?”
“My demise. We had a–” The pause in her voice expressed a vague sense of truth. “A disagreement.”
If Maxi wanted to stress the last word, so would Dylan. “What do you mean by ‘a disagreement’”?
“If you must know. He raped me and got away with it. Apparently, there wasn’t enough evidence. I guess the bruises around my neck and ... other places were not sufficient to convict him.”
Even though it happened a long time ago, Dylan grabbed Maxi and pulled her into a caring embrace with a soothing apology. Maxi continued her story and explained how those events inspired her to open Adytum. She wanted a safe space for women to explore their sexuality and their sexual appetites without shame.
It finally made sense, and with that came a rush of anger that radiated through Dylan’s blood. Guilt took over and made her want to turn around and rush back to the café to get justice for Maxi and all the other women who lived with the sins of others on their flesh. That included her own.
She could count at least three sins alone for her motives in hiring Ari. Memories of the audition flashed back. Ari wanted to be a waitress, not a sex worker. Dylan’s own lust, greed, and gluttony were more important than the well-being of a beautiful woman who barely could disrobe in front of her. Not only was she blind to her errors, she failed to keep the club and its members safe.
With a huff laced with a laugh, she asked, “After learning all this, do I still have a job? I mean, I suck at security, obviously.”
“Of course, Dylan, my dear. I trust you to do the right thing.”
That was a loaded statement. The right thing could have meant a lot of things, one of which meant firing an employee. She pressed her lips together, knowing that Ari had to go. “I will. I got your back, Maxi.”
Smiling, Maxi patted Dylan’s cheek. “Very good, mon petit.”
The strength of Dylan’s anger shattered the glass of the coffee table in her apartment. Instead of cleaning up the mess, she scoured the Internet, which she should have done before with the due diligence of a background check of Miss Ariel Delgado. A quick Internet search provided her with everything she needed to know. Terry Bradwell was the editor in chief of CityBeats for eight years, just as Maxi said.
“Anonymously Adytum” was the name of the article that listed the names of celebrities, lawyers, and politicians. While all those listed were members of the club, it was not an extensive list. It was damaging to the ones outed, but the actual damage was to Adytum’s reputation. Prostitution, though not illegal, was not socially acceptable. Same-sex liaisons were abhorrent in the eyes of many. The only way he would have had access to those names was if he had an insider. Ari. The woman who needed the job. She needed it all right. Needed it to spill the secrets of the wealthy.
Dylan reached over to set the bottle of whiskey on the table, only to be reminded of the glass shattered in anger. Instead, she lifted the drink to her lips, downing a gulp as it burned the back of her throat and chest. Frustrated and blinded by Ari’s beauty and innocence, Dylan struggled not to throw the entire bottle at the wall as she scanned the CityBeats website. And then it appeared on the screen. Ariel Delgado’s name. A few articles came up. The most recent was a story about transgender youth in the city. She had gone undercover with the homeless, just as she had with Adytum.
“She’s a fucking reporter!”
Dylan couldn’t believe she fell for it. All of it. Berating herself for this fatal attraction over a woman. This entire fiasco was her fault, and it very well could be the downfall of everything she’d grown to count on.
Needing a friendly ear, Dylan dialed the one person she knew would listen. When Lucy came on the line, Dylan said, “Hey Luc. You got time to talk?”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
Of course, she would have time. Lucy always had time for her, no matter the hour. “I’ve made a mess of everything.”
Dylan explained the amazing night with Ari and the punishment for leaving early, the CityBeats article, and Terry. A tear fell when she mentioned Ari was a reporter.
The admission needed another chug of whiskey to ward off the knot in her throat. “I fell in love with her. What am I going to do? She’s coming here to talk. I mean, I was going to apologize, but now ...”
“You’re gonna cut her loose. You can’t trust her,” Lucy said, being the sound voice of reason.
“I know, I know. I can’t help thinking we had something, but how could she ...? Fuck! Lucy, I’ve never been so torn. I know what I should do, but my heart is singing a different tune here. What if it’s the real thing?”
“She’s a liar! And she’s trying to destroy the very world that keeps you employed. Want to go back to living on the streets?”
“You’re right. I have to let her go.” Just then, the doorbell rang. The moment of truth caused Dylan’s heart to race. “She’s here. I gotta go.”
As much as Dylan wanted to ignore it and let Ari walk away, she needed to face the music and ask the hard questions that plagued their relationship—if there even was one. That magical evening had to have meant something unless Dylan was just a pawn in Ari’s undermining scheme to expose the club. Taking a large breath, she opened the door and found Ari on the other side with apologetic eyes.
“Can I come in?” she asked. When Dylan didn’t invite her inside the apartment, she said, “I guess we need to discuss the elephant in the room.”
“Which elephant would that be? Yours or mine?” Dylan held the top of the door open, allowing space for Ari to scoot through.
Dylan closed the door and strolled to the kitchen to grab a fresh glass. She held up the whiskey bottle, silently asking Ari if she wanted some. “No thanks, I’m good. Dylan, I know we need to talk.”
