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Jules, also known as Julius Caesar. His self-made empire was one mine could never quite rival. He was the one who got me the club and connected me to all of the underground dealings. I was young, at the time. He said we would settle the debts later, and needed someone he trusted to run what he didn’t have time for anymore. I’d paid him back for the club, but I guess that wasn’t enough.
I’m sure it’s not a coincidence. I’m sure he found out about Midnights and wants more of what I was running at the old strip club.
“What’s your name?” I ask scrawny guy.
“Connie.” He shuffles his feet nervously. “Listen, I’m here to tell you that Julius wants to strike a deal—”
“Listen,Connie,” I interrupt him, squeezing down—hard—on his bony shoulder. “If Julius wants to threaten me into making a deal with him, maybe he should send someone more intimidating. I suggest himself, as any of his messengers aren’t going to do a proper job. You tell him I paid my debts, and we’re good.”
“That-that’s not what he says.”
“Yeah?” I lean in. Connie shrinks back. “And what did he say?”
“That you paid off the club, but your debt for the favor he did for you needs to be paid, too. He wants to meet at Mateo’s.”
Mateo’s was one of his bars, not one I’m overly fond of. Every patron works for him in some way. It’s not outwardly exclusive, but the right people know that it is—as in most people from that area.
Removing my sunglasses, I tell Connie, “You can tell Jules to fuck off. Our deal was done a long time ago.” I squeeze his shoulder tighter and he flinches. “Now get the fuck out of here before I decide to change my mind about sending a message through the messenger.”
Connie catches my drift, and tries to pry my hand away, but I give it another hard squeeze for emphasis before pushing him back into my car, his body colliding with the metal with a dull thud.
An ostentatious, cherry red Lamborghini pulls into the parking lot at an idiotic speed, the type of driving that one can expect from a trust fund car such as this one. I bet I can guess the exact kind of driver, but I’m not sure I can guess why they’re here.
Through the windshield I spot a clean-cut blonde guy, hair neatly trimmed and slicked back, wearing a polo and Ray Bans. Exactly as I would have thought.
What Idon’tsee coming is who steps out of the passenger side. Talia emerges, wearing matching Ray Bans, an ivory pantsuit which issounlike her that I want to tear it off, and not in a fun way. Her hair is different, too. Less angular, less edgy, now a more groomed, short cut which she has tucked behind her ears.
She leaves for five days and becomes some trust fund prick’s clean-cut whore?
I could scream. I could punch him right in his privileged face.
Instead, Connie, who is for some reason stillhere, is victim to my newfound anger. Grabbing him by the throat, I pull him away from my car and push him into the parking lot. “Get the fuck out of here.”
He finally figures out what’s good for him and runs.
Shame seeps through me. My past, which I’ve worked hard to leave, has come back to bite me, giving Talia only more reason to hate me. But even as she gets out, she doesn’t look at me, which makes it even worse.
The Lamborghini waits, the driver watching as she struts past me toward the entrance of the club. Something takes over me and I catch her by the arm. She still refuses to look at me, but she stops in her tracks. “Let go of me, Kay,” she says in a voice so deadly calm, so devoid of anything.
“Who the fuck is that?” I demand, nodding at the car.
I hear a door open. Rap music spills out for a moment and is quickly suffocated again by the closed doors. I’m still only looking at Talia when I hear footsteps approach.
“I’d let go of her right now if I were you, pal. She’s worth more than your entire life.”
Now that’s a fucking statement,I think to myself, finding it difficult to hold my tongue.
I allow my touch to linger a moment longer on Talia to see if she’ll at least meet my gaze so I can gauge if she’s being held captive by this trust fund prick, but she still refuses, so I let her go.
“Wise choice,” trust fund prick sneers.
I want to slap those Ray Bansright offhis face.
“You can leave, Brian. I can handle Kay.” Finally,finally, Talia looks at me. “He’s just an overbearing boss.”
“Thisis your boss? Jeez, Talia, maybe you should get a new job. You don’t need to be working with any low life’s anymore. You can come work withmeatmyfather’s law firm,” he says with an edge of gloat that annoys me to the point of bothering to look at him, if only for him to see on my face that I don’t give a fuck if his daddy is a lawyer.
Brian stares at me smugly.
