Two days later I received a call from Zack. I wasn't sure if I would
actually get a call from him and find out exactly what went down with him
and Logan, but after he explained things, I at least understood what was
going on, even if I didn't have all of the details. Logan was still a bit
of a wild card. Max was easy to predict, but he might do something
unexpected, like show up here. I was going to have to be prepared if he
did. The tricky part was that I wasn't sure which route to take. If I
stressed to hard that he was scum and she needed to dump him, they might
get suspicious, but I certainly couldn't push her to forgive him either.
Maybe my luck would just hold for a bit and I would be able to get her to
Zack without any further issues. I had enough of those as it was.
It was my turn to be teased with information. Damn him. He knew how much I wanted to hear about what happened. Sometimes Zack showed a glimmer of a sense of humor within that soldier-boy shell. This was one of those times, and he was using it rather harshly against me. I'd have to get him back later for that. If he'd ever speak to me again later, that was. I rather hoped so. He was just a pawn in the game. Of anyone, he would understand that sometimes, friendly fire had to be taken in order to complete a mission.
"Cale's no longer a problem," Zack said confidently. I didn't realize until then that I was holding my breath. I hated depending on other people, but if I had to pick someone to take care of a problem, it would be Zack. As long as he didn't have to be intuitive and make leaps of judgment that is. Simple and straightforward, that was the Zack I knew.
I was in my office, and promptly forgot about the paperwork that was on my desk when he said that. I leaned back. "I knew you could do it. What did you say? What did he say?" Okay, so I was a little eager. I had done a lot of planning, and I deserved to know.
He paused, teasing me cruelly. There were times when his own cat DNA was obvious. "Don't worry about it," he replied. "Your letter took care of most of it. I just finished him off. He's no longer a factor in the equation."
I closed my eyes, wishing he were there so that I could slap the shit out of him. "Zack…" I said warningly. "Don't make me send her back."
I could almost feel the immediate blaze of anger, and then surprise of all surprises occurred. He actually realized that I was teasing. I was not going to undo all of my planning over this. "I was watching him and showed up the night he got the letter," he said, and there was that note of just plain meanness there. "He had a bottle of whisky. We…bonded over a couple of shots," he sneered.
I laughed. "And I bet his opinion of me is just as high as yours is, huh?"
He let out a little snort. "He was babbling about being fooled by your abused-little-girl routine. Said a bunch of crap about how you suffered on the streets. Then he called you a hedonistic little whore, just like Max. Almost fell out of his wheelchair after that."
"Fell or was punched out?" I teased. I had to ask. Logan had just besmirched Precious Max's honor after all.
"I didn't need to hit him," Zack replied. "Your letter had given him all of the low blows required."
I sighed contentedly. "Just tell me he's going to remember your conversation one he sobers up."
"He will," Zack assured me. "I made sure that he only had enough to get drunk, not trashed. It was a pathetic enough sight as it was."
"I'm sure it was," I said, imagining the scene. Zack, firm and tall as always with Logan, drunk and slobbering all over the table with a bottle and a couple of glasses between them. I did so wish that I could have been there to see that. It was Logan's fault though. If he hadn't been dancing (well, as much as he could in a wheelchair) around Max, then she would never have doubted his integrity and left the door open for suspicion and doubt. Maybe they subconsciously wanted someone like me to come in and ruin what they thought were their lives. Who cared? I had set out to do this, and it was quite pleasing to see it come together so seamlessly.
"Now, can you wait until Sunday morning to get here?" I asked. It was Monday. That gave me only a few days to do what I had to, but that should be enough. "I know you're eager to get her out of here, and trust me, I want her gone, but she's not quite ready." I used my best submissive tone with Zack. The one that said that I understood that he was in charge and that I would do as he said. "If you'll just give me this week, then she's going to be thinking about leaving, and after we talk a bit more, she'll be ready to take off with you."
Zack thought about it, weighing the possibilities. He wanted her now, but he understood that patience and time was of the essence here. He couldn't rush things as much as he wanted to get her away from me. He was worried about my influence as well. We both knew that. He knew that I was a manipulative bitch. It was why he liked me.
"I'll be there when I get there," he finally said noncommittally. Damn him. If he showed up Saturday, I was totally fucked. And not in the way I liked either. Late Saturday night, it might still work, but chances were that there would be a hell of a lot more problems then. Namely, Zack deciding to tear apart whoever was fucking Max at the time. I could deal with most messes he could cause, but that would be very bad for business.
"You always do," I said, not letting him know that I was not happy with him. I grinned. "But I will say that I think she's having a good time here. She was just saying earlier that this was just the vacation that she needed, and she's really enjoying being at the club and spending time with the girls." I could almost feel him digesting that, tearing it apart and looking for hidden meanings. What meanings could that be? I wanted him to remember that later, and I knew he would.
"Yeah. Okay," he said, not sounding pleased at all. Most people wouldn't have noticed a change in tone at all, but I knew Zack. He had a grunt for all occasions.
"I'll see you Sunday," I said, still smiling. "Bye-bye."
He gave me his goodbye grunt and then hung up.
As I hung up the phone, even the paperwork on my desk wasn't annoying like it usually was. I loved my club, but there were a lot of shit details that I would much prefer to do without, and I was two weeks behind thanks to that dumb bitch downstairs. My trip to Seattle was only supposed to be a few days. So much time and effort being spent on her and I was the only one that was really going to be able to enjoy it. Oh well. I was the one that counted in this game.
I started trying to sift the paperwork back into manageable piles when I knock interrupted me. Fuck. I was never going to get this shit done. I had a club to run, brutal revenge to plot with lives to destroy, and tax papers to fucking deal with. What the hell did people want from me?
"Come in," I called out. No matter what, my top priority was still going to have to be the club and the girls. Without them, well, there really wasn't much to me then.
Max poked her head in. She was smiling, and looked like she had just been laughing about something or the other. Enjoy it while you can sweetheart. You had a week of smiling left to go.
"Simone, honey, what are you up to?" I asked brightly, hiding my annoyance easily.
"Ju and MTV wanted to show me some hot spots," she replied. "You want to hang?"
I sighed. Hang her maybe. "I'd love to honey, but I'm a little buried right now," I said indicating the papers all over my desk. "And with everything, I really need to handle this." It was probably the most serious that she had heard me sound since we had made it to New Orleans.
"You okay?" she asked, her playfulness wilting.
"It's nothing," I said, trying to keep from laughing. It was like dangling a string in front of a kitten. "Just…trying to deal with some things."
She plopped down in the chair in front of my desk. "S'up?" she demanded.
"It's…its just…well, you know how I told you about Lydecker showing up?" I said hesitantly. She nodded. I had told her he came in and tore the place up looking for Ben. I didn't tell her about my little moment with him in my office. She would not have been able to handle that. To be honest, I still had a hard time believing that I did that with him. I wasn't sure if I was proud of myself or ashamed.
"Son of a bitch had the club raided by the cops afterwards, just to put a scare into me about what would happen if I dared to disobey him," I confessed.
"Bastard," Max muttered, her face hardening. No love lost there.
"And then right after that, I had to leave, and…well, business isn't exactly doing very well," I said, pointing to some figures on the papers in front of me. "See? The last couple of weeks have been way off." They were, but not as bad as I was saying. Now that I was back, it would pick up again and I would be fine in a couple more weeks. The girls were still making their tips and I had enough cash to survive a few bad months, much less weeks.
Max blinked. "Place was jumping the last couple of nights," she commented.
I smiled wanly. "Not nearly what it should have been. Trust me, people are not coming in like they used to. When a club gets raided and the owner leaves town, people get scared and don't want to show up."
Max looked down for a moment. I knew what she was thinking. It was her fault. I had stayed too long in Seattle to be with her, and now my club was suffering for it. Aww… did Miss Perfect feel bad for fucking up my life? My heart was just bleeding.
"Don't worry about it," I said, reassuringly patting her hand. "And don't think it's your fault either. I'm the one that chose to stay in Seattle. I'll figure out how to get this place whipped back into shape. Now go out and have some fun. You're here to get away from problems, remember?"
"Yeah," she said, giving me a crooked little smile. "But sisters worry about each other, right?" She paused. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
I pretended to think for a second. "Ever think about dancing?" I asked, almost facetiously.
She blinked. "Like here? I…I don't think I could do that."
I shrugged. "Don't be embarrassed. You're beautiful. You have no idea what kind of a crowd we could draw in."
I knew she didn't like the idea, but she asked anyways. "We?"
"Well, I was thinking that I was going to have to get up on stage to get some of the old-timers back. They'll come for me, I'm sure. But since everyone around is thinking that we're sisters, that whole "sister" deal will draw them in like flies." I stopped and waved my hand dismissively.
She didn't say anything. I waved my hand dismissively. "I'm just thinking out loud," I said quickly. "You know, just batting around lots of ideas. Half an hour ago, you would have heard about the chocolate syrup fight on stage. Now you get out of here, and I'll meet you guys for dinner before the club opens."
Max grinned, and then laughed. "Well, maybe if it was a caramel fight, I would be in," she joked. I had to laugh at that. She paused thoughtfully. "Well, I got to bounce before they go and send up a search party."
"Later, honey."
Max trotted out of the office, and I sat there for a long minute staring at the closed door. She would do it. She was going to think it over, and then really start feeling guilty. After all, had she not killed Ben, I wouldn't have stayed so long, and caused so many problems. There I was, helping her get over it selflessly and she was repaying me with causing my life to go up in smoke. What a bad sister she was being. And it wasn't like I was asking her to go into the back rooms. Hell, it wasn't like it was even Max that would do it. It was Simone St. Claire. She was a wild party girl. Why not shake it a little and help her sister out? It was only right.
Of course it was only right.
And so was the little drink we would have before then. A celebration drink of sorts when we saw how packed the club was. I was going to be so happy. As a matter of fact, I'd make the drinks myself. And after her drink, Max was going to be very happy as well. She would be so happy, she probably wouldn't remember most of the night. A lot of noise and talk and movement, but not the real action. Remember it or not, there would be a lot of her action going around.
I had the powder in my desk drawer. Alcohol would enhance the drugs effect enough to disorient even Max. I knew how much it took to work on me, and we weren't that much different physically. By the time Zack showed up Sunday morning, I would have plenty of video of Max in the back rooms with a dozen different guys. His precious, pure Max on camera, flinging off her clothes and then fucking like the whore he had called me so many times.
Would he take her away anyways just to prove that I didn't win my little game?
Hell yes. Zack always wins.
Would he talk to her about her wild night?
Hell no. Zack doesn't do feelings.
Would he think about it?
Fuck yeah. Zack was the definition of brooding. It's just him.
Would he be able to stay with her?
Fuck no. In the end, it would grate on him too much. He'd always remember her pleasuring the other men. Her laughter and smiles as she enjoyed their attention. The fact they had her long before he could. And in the end, there she would be. In some city a million miles from where she had been. Alone. And always wondering what the hell happened.
Last call pays for all.
It was my turn to be teased with information. Damn him. He knew how much I wanted to hear about what happened. Sometimes Zack showed a glimmer of a sense of humor within that soldier-boy shell. This was one of those times, and he was using it rather harshly against me. I'd have to get him back later for that. If he'd ever speak to me again later, that was. I rather hoped so. He was just a pawn in the game. Of anyone, he would understand that sometimes, friendly fire had to be taken in order to complete a mission.
"Cale's no longer a problem," Zack said confidently. I didn't realize until then that I was holding my breath. I hated depending on other people, but if I had to pick someone to take care of a problem, it would be Zack. As long as he didn't have to be intuitive and make leaps of judgment that is. Simple and straightforward, that was the Zack I knew.
I was in my office, and promptly forgot about the paperwork that was on my desk when he said that. I leaned back. "I knew you could do it. What did you say? What did he say?" Okay, so I was a little eager. I had done a lot of planning, and I deserved to know.
He paused, teasing me cruelly. There were times when his own cat DNA was obvious. "Don't worry about it," he replied. "Your letter took care of most of it. I just finished him off. He's no longer a factor in the equation."
I closed my eyes, wishing he were there so that I could slap the shit out of him. "Zack…" I said warningly. "Don't make me send her back."
I could almost feel the immediate blaze of anger, and then surprise of all surprises occurred. He actually realized that I was teasing. I was not going to undo all of my planning over this. "I was watching him and showed up the night he got the letter," he said, and there was that note of just plain meanness there. "He had a bottle of whisky. We…bonded over a couple of shots," he sneered.
I laughed. "And I bet his opinion of me is just as high as yours is, huh?"
He let out a little snort. "He was babbling about being fooled by your abused-little-girl routine. Said a bunch of crap about how you suffered on the streets. Then he called you a hedonistic little whore, just like Max. Almost fell out of his wheelchair after that."
"Fell or was punched out?" I teased. I had to ask. Logan had just besmirched Precious Max's honor after all.
"I didn't need to hit him," Zack replied. "Your letter had given him all of the low blows required."
I sighed contentedly. "Just tell me he's going to remember your conversation one he sobers up."
"He will," Zack assured me. "I made sure that he only had enough to get drunk, not trashed. It was a pathetic enough sight as it was."
"I'm sure it was," I said, imagining the scene. Zack, firm and tall as always with Logan, drunk and slobbering all over the table with a bottle and a couple of glasses between them. I did so wish that I could have been there to see that. It was Logan's fault though. If he hadn't been dancing (well, as much as he could in a wheelchair) around Max, then she would never have doubted his integrity and left the door open for suspicion and doubt. Maybe they subconsciously wanted someone like me to come in and ruin what they thought were their lives. Who cared? I had set out to do this, and it was quite pleasing to see it come together so seamlessly.
"Now, can you wait until Sunday morning to get here?" I asked. It was Monday. That gave me only a few days to do what I had to, but that should be enough. "I know you're eager to get her out of here, and trust me, I want her gone, but she's not quite ready." I used my best submissive tone with Zack. The one that said that I understood that he was in charge and that I would do as he said. "If you'll just give me this week, then she's going to be thinking about leaving, and after we talk a bit more, she'll be ready to take off with you."
Zack thought about it, weighing the possibilities. He wanted her now, but he understood that patience and time was of the essence here. He couldn't rush things as much as he wanted to get her away from me. He was worried about my influence as well. We both knew that. He knew that I was a manipulative bitch. It was why he liked me.
"I'll be there when I get there," he finally said noncommittally. Damn him. If he showed up Saturday, I was totally fucked. And not in the way I liked either. Late Saturday night, it might still work, but chances were that there would be a hell of a lot more problems then. Namely, Zack deciding to tear apart whoever was fucking Max at the time. I could deal with most messes he could cause, but that would be very bad for business.
"You always do," I said, not letting him know that I was not happy with him. I grinned. "But I will say that I think she's having a good time here. She was just saying earlier that this was just the vacation that she needed, and she's really enjoying being at the club and spending time with the girls." I could almost feel him digesting that, tearing it apart and looking for hidden meanings. What meanings could that be? I wanted him to remember that later, and I knew he would.
"Yeah. Okay," he said, not sounding pleased at all. Most people wouldn't have noticed a change in tone at all, but I knew Zack. He had a grunt for all occasions.
"I'll see you Sunday," I said, still smiling. "Bye-bye."
He gave me his goodbye grunt and then hung up.
As I hung up the phone, even the paperwork on my desk wasn't annoying like it usually was. I loved my club, but there were a lot of shit details that I would much prefer to do without, and I was two weeks behind thanks to that dumb bitch downstairs. My trip to Seattle was only supposed to be a few days. So much time and effort being spent on her and I was the only one that was really going to be able to enjoy it. Oh well. I was the one that counted in this game.
I started trying to sift the paperwork back into manageable piles when I knock interrupted me. Fuck. I was never going to get this shit done. I had a club to run, brutal revenge to plot with lives to destroy, and tax papers to fucking deal with. What the hell did people want from me?
"Come in," I called out. No matter what, my top priority was still going to have to be the club and the girls. Without them, well, there really wasn't much to me then.
Max poked her head in. She was smiling, and looked like she had just been laughing about something or the other. Enjoy it while you can sweetheart. You had a week of smiling left to go.
"Simone, honey, what are you up to?" I asked brightly, hiding my annoyance easily.
"Ju and MTV wanted to show me some hot spots," she replied. "You want to hang?"
I sighed. Hang her maybe. "I'd love to honey, but I'm a little buried right now," I said indicating the papers all over my desk. "And with everything, I really need to handle this." It was probably the most serious that she had heard me sound since we had made it to New Orleans.
"You okay?" she asked, her playfulness wilting.
"It's nothing," I said, trying to keep from laughing. It was like dangling a string in front of a kitten. "Just…trying to deal with some things."
She plopped down in the chair in front of my desk. "S'up?" she demanded.
"It's…its just…well, you know how I told you about Lydecker showing up?" I said hesitantly. She nodded. I had told her he came in and tore the place up looking for Ben. I didn't tell her about my little moment with him in my office. She would not have been able to handle that. To be honest, I still had a hard time believing that I did that with him. I wasn't sure if I was proud of myself or ashamed.
"Son of a bitch had the club raided by the cops afterwards, just to put a scare into me about what would happen if I dared to disobey him," I confessed.
"Bastard," Max muttered, her face hardening. No love lost there.
"And then right after that, I had to leave, and…well, business isn't exactly doing very well," I said, pointing to some figures on the papers in front of me. "See? The last couple of weeks have been way off." They were, but not as bad as I was saying. Now that I was back, it would pick up again and I would be fine in a couple more weeks. The girls were still making their tips and I had enough cash to survive a few bad months, much less weeks.
Max blinked. "Place was jumping the last couple of nights," she commented.
I smiled wanly. "Not nearly what it should have been. Trust me, people are not coming in like they used to. When a club gets raided and the owner leaves town, people get scared and don't want to show up."
Max looked down for a moment. I knew what she was thinking. It was her fault. I had stayed too long in Seattle to be with her, and now my club was suffering for it. Aww… did Miss Perfect feel bad for fucking up my life? My heart was just bleeding.
"Don't worry about it," I said, reassuringly patting her hand. "And don't think it's your fault either. I'm the one that chose to stay in Seattle. I'll figure out how to get this place whipped back into shape. Now go out and have some fun. You're here to get away from problems, remember?"
"Yeah," she said, giving me a crooked little smile. "But sisters worry about each other, right?" She paused. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
I pretended to think for a second. "Ever think about dancing?" I asked, almost facetiously.
She blinked. "Like here? I…I don't think I could do that."
I shrugged. "Don't be embarrassed. You're beautiful. You have no idea what kind of a crowd we could draw in."
I knew she didn't like the idea, but she asked anyways. "We?"
"Well, I was thinking that I was going to have to get up on stage to get some of the old-timers back. They'll come for me, I'm sure. But since everyone around is thinking that we're sisters, that whole "sister" deal will draw them in like flies." I stopped and waved my hand dismissively.
She didn't say anything. I waved my hand dismissively. "I'm just thinking out loud," I said quickly. "You know, just batting around lots of ideas. Half an hour ago, you would have heard about the chocolate syrup fight on stage. Now you get out of here, and I'll meet you guys for dinner before the club opens."
Max grinned, and then laughed. "Well, maybe if it was a caramel fight, I would be in," she joked. I had to laugh at that. She paused thoughtfully. "Well, I got to bounce before they go and send up a search party."
"Later, honey."
Max trotted out of the office, and I sat there for a long minute staring at the closed door. She would do it. She was going to think it over, and then really start feeling guilty. After all, had she not killed Ben, I wouldn't have stayed so long, and caused so many problems. There I was, helping her get over it selflessly and she was repaying me with causing my life to go up in smoke. What a bad sister she was being. And it wasn't like I was asking her to go into the back rooms. Hell, it wasn't like it was even Max that would do it. It was Simone St. Claire. She was a wild party girl. Why not shake it a little and help her sister out? It was only right.
Of course it was only right.
And so was the little drink we would have before then. A celebration drink of sorts when we saw how packed the club was. I was going to be so happy. As a matter of fact, I'd make the drinks myself. And after her drink, Max was going to be very happy as well. She would be so happy, she probably wouldn't remember most of the night. A lot of noise and talk and movement, but not the real action. Remember it or not, there would be a lot of her action going around.
I had the powder in my desk drawer. Alcohol would enhance the drugs effect enough to disorient even Max. I knew how much it took to work on me, and we weren't that much different physically. By the time Zack showed up Sunday morning, I would have plenty of video of Max in the back rooms with a dozen different guys. His precious, pure Max on camera, flinging off her clothes and then fucking like the whore he had called me so many times.
Would he take her away anyways just to prove that I didn't win my little game?
Hell yes. Zack always wins.
Would he talk to her about her wild night?
Hell no. Zack doesn't do feelings.
Would he think about it?
Fuck yeah. Zack was the definition of brooding. It's just him.
Would he be able to stay with her?
Fuck no. In the end, it would grate on him too much. He'd always remember her pleasuring the other men. Her laughter and smiles as she enjoyed their attention. The fact they had her long before he could. And in the end, there she would be. In some city a million miles from where she had been. Alone. And always wondering what the hell happened.
Last call pays for all.