..::.. Chapter 24 - Jenks ..::..

Present ...

"Move!" The bouncer yells. The group in front of us step away but are confused. He doesn't want to pick from them. He looks above their heads.

The girls laugh beside me. Like old times, in college, we spruce up, liquor up, and try to get into the busiest clubs. This one is a challenge, but we always did get picked with a scan of the crowd.

One of the girls stands up straighter, jutting out her chest. She's the tallest; keg stands for her were easy. Guys ogled at her gymnastics skills as she pushed herself up with no help. Now she's an attorney.

The bouncer lays eyes on her. It never fails. He drops his gaze to the rest of us, and like clockwork, it ends on me.

He beckons with his fingers. "Come along, gorgeous," he says to me. I grab onto a hand, and like a chain, the girls follow.

I took Sue's suggestion. A night out to loosen up. I was even nice enough to ask Claire to join. She was surprised, but her bitter ass still finds me appalling, so she refused. She said she had better things to do.

The music is loud, the bar replete, the girls look from end to end, and this just might be a good night.

"How did you know about this place?" asks the tall one. I shrug, give her the most generic answer and hope it doesn't give me away.

"A friend."

She dances in place and walks backward toward the bar. Her hips swaying, knowing a few male eyes are already on her. There will be free drinks waiting for her before she even reaches the bar.

I smile.

I look around for VIP. I take a stool at the bar and stakeout.

A stranger with tight pants and slicked-back hair gets close.

"No," I say before he even speaks. He moves away with a nod. My focus is on that door and how I can get in.

Sue brought up this place. All week she talked about Edward's little visit to the shop. It's all she can talk about. She asked if he's been around or if he's been in contact. I narrowed my eyes at her. She denied she gave him my number. She kept up the conversation that was more one-sided, and in there she mentioned this bar.

Cullen family endorsed.

I turn to tall Lauren. "Okay, well. There's more."

She hops up on her toes and bellows her excitement over the bar. "I knew there was more!" She tucks into my side. The other girls overhear and click-clack heels our way. "Spill it." They all listen.

"It's a VIP kind of night, don't you think? For old times' sake." I look at Lauren. "Get us in."

She curtsies and pushes up her bra, cleavage showing, almost pouring out. "Stand back, girls. Let the women do the real work." We all laugh. They're unaware that this is about something major for me. For them, it's a night out about to get wild. She grabs my hand, and we make our way across the dance floor with brief instructions on my part.

A guard at the door sucks on a cigar. Lauren asks for a light. The rest of us lounge not far away.

She's talking to him. I don't know what she says but the moment she beckons me over I run with whatever she throws at me. Once, she said I was an escort, and she was there to exchange a business transaction. She drops a common name, and it always seems to work. This time it won't, unless it's the real deal.

I read her lips. She follows my instructions.

She beckons.

Here goes nothing.

I flip my hair and hike up my dress. Mousy and mysterious always works for me. I lean on the threshold near him; I take in the straw from my drink through my lips.

"It's her first time. So don't give her trouble," Lauren says to him. He looks at me from head to toe.

"Isn't she a little too old for 'first times'?" he asks skeptically. I almost gasp audibly.

"I'm sorry. Were you expecting a minor?" Lauren asks him, the law at the tip of her tongue. "Is that what you like, chump? You chase after really young girls? That's twenty years in prison minimum, you pervert!"

"Lauren." I stop her. The guy is confused and looking pretty irritated. I straighten my back and shake off the façade.

"Let's cut to the chase. I'm not sure Mr. Cullen would like it very much if he knew you were giving us trouble tonight. I mean, he is in town now, has been for weeks. I could easily get a hold of him and tell him how much of a gentleman you're being. Please don't make me lose my delightful buzz over this ridiculous misunderstanding."

He freezes. He looks at Lauren, then looks at me.

He steps to the side.

"Have a wonderful night," I say, smiling.

The girls all round up behind me, and we sound like a damn stampede as we move up the stairs. Lauren laughs her ass off.

"I've never been so mortified in my life! You had to use the escort story, didn't you?" I ask, over my shoulder.

Lauren shrugs. "We don't look as young as we used to, I guess. Who are Emmett and Mr. Cullen anyway?"

I sigh. "I don't know. I heard they own the place." Lauren snickers at our lascivious ways.

"This is wild. Can't wait to tell my sister about this. Uptight my ass!" Everyone in this narrow staircase can't help but laugh.

It's full up here. There's a bar, a few waitresses wearing very little clothes. Cards are shuffled on a far away table where I see who I've been looking for.

We settle for sticking by the bar, under the shadows, for now. Men sit around tables in different corners of the room, some lounge in leather sofas under red lights. Dancers sway here and there over a lap or two (those girls are definitely younger). Smoke takes up the tense air. Jazz plays through the walls it seems, but I can't see a band anywhere.

The card table is loud and obnoxious. I watch Emmett make a round, cutting the deck. A mound of cash sits in the middle.

We order drinks and scope out the place. The real club within the club. Every one of the girls seem to be planning their next move. That's how they've always done it in college. I usually sat and watched, only getting drink offers from strangers throughout the night—until Lauren would push someone at me.

The card table gets exceedingly loud, and soon after they all laugh heartily. Emmett watches a young guy gather the cash closer to his side as he takes a drink.

A seat becomes available at the table.

I nod at Lauren toward the bar. She takes the clue and goes to distract the guy who stepped away from the table.

I take the seat.

"Good evening, gentlemen."

Emmett looks up.

He's never been the type to be taken aback by anyone or anything, but his slight slacked jaw says otherwise. He takes me in.

I nod. "Emmett."

He sits back in his chair. "A ghost before my eyes."

"And a pretty one at that," says another from beside me. He's ignored.

"I thought you were—"

"Dead? Buried? Sorry to ruin your night." I grin.

He looks around.

"I'm alone. He's actually the one I'm looking for. I need to talk to him, Emmett." This whole plan was to get in touch with Edward.

He takes his eyes off me and shuffles cards. Grays have appeared at his temples and face, only to make him look even more handsome. Years show in his eyes, though—the hustle, the struggle. That same chain he wore when I was younger adorns his neck. He sucks on his molars.

"What the hell do you need him for? If I recall, your old man had clear orders; no contact."

I remember Dad's words … or warning. "I've got all night," I say, settling in my seat. "What are we playing, poker?" I scan the table. Mr. Nosy beside me smiles.

"You're wasting your time. I'll have you dragged out of here and your thirty-year-old friends."

I smile at him. "Awe, c'mon. All those years, when I was a kid, you had your share of the wise ones. I bet they taught you all you know." I wink.

The full table laughs.

"We go way back, Emmett and me," I finish saying to the onlookers.

He's getting bored of this. I've never spoken to him for this long before. I'm feeling this out, and his patience is wearing thin.

"You're in my chair," is what I suddenly hear behind me. I look up. Our eyes meet, and his mouth goes slack before he catches himself.

"You heard him. You're in his chair. You know where the door is." Emmett.

I gesture. "Oh, this chair?" I look at the back of it. "Didn't see a name." I smile and turn to show more legs. "Though, I didn't catch yours either." I smile up at the familiar face. He looks around.

"Jenks. My chair, ma'am."

Liar. I know his name is Ben. And Ben used to sit by me in high school and let me copy off his homework. I reel a little. I try my hardest to play it off. His ashen face pleads for me to play it off.

"Ma'am? That stung, Jenks. How about you make it up to me and let me rest my old, achy bones for a while. Run along now." I turn back to the card game. "Where were we? Right. Poker. Where are my cards?" I rub my hands together. Mr. Nosy passes me my deck.

Those old familiar hands that hugged me close or passed me notes in class reach over my shoulder and snatches the deck from me.

Next thing I know he takes me by the waist and lifts me off enough to slide right under my ass. I'm jostled onto his lap.

"Or we can get nice and familiar real quick," I mutter. The group chuckles. My heart stutters.

I swing an arm behind his back and turn to my old friend's profile. "You've got two 'As. What does that mean?" I whisper loud enough for the table to hear.

They groan and slap their deck on the felt.

Emmett glares.

"All night." I smile his way.

Ben clears his throat. He's definitely uncomfortable. I run a few fingers at his nape for old time's sake. I watch him. His heart beating hastily under my palm. I run it there, up and over to his shoulder where I lock my hands. This was the way we spent our lunchtime back in the day, before I got a boyfriend and he had five girlfriends.

The only difference now, he's older, broader and terrified. But man, is he still a looker. His clothes aren't him. He'd wear clean lines, black, and Marten boots. Now he wears a jersey, a gold chain and jeans over high top sneakers you'd see more of on the streets. I scratch at a tattoo on his forearm. His arm tenses.

I'd like to yell at him, ask him why he's here. But what I say instead is, "You gonna buy me a drink at least?"

The older men around the table snicker.

Emmett doesn't.

Ben's the youngest. The rookie, it seems. His hand light with beginner's luck, a mound of cash in front of him when he won earlier.

"Better get the lady a drink," Mr. Nosy says. I pick up a bill and wave it in front of his face. He waves down a waitress.

We take our drinks, and before we clink he looks at me, and I look at him. We know, somehow, someway, we're talking about this.

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