‘You don’t want to leave me,’ she whispered, when she concluded why he’d stalled. ‘You’re going to come in me and leave, aren’t you?’
‘I’ve been shooting my load into you for months.’
‘But you don’t leave me after it...’ Rushe picked up his pace but Flick wasn’t satisfied. ‘You’ve left me before. Twice in the last month you’ve walked away from me, why is this different?’
‘Stop talking,’ he barked, and his brow snapped down, shading his already sinister eyes.
Rushe hauled her up and smashed into her; he was out then thumped back in, his force so inflexible that her back began to bruise despite the jacket. Rushe’s potency swirled in the vigour of his virility and with bruising force he gripped her ass and battered on until he spilled himself into her cervix without care for her assaulted muscles.
‘Rushe,’ she whispered through his huffed breaths. ‘Lover.’
This time when she reached for his face he stepped away, leaving her to slide down the wall to the concrete step because her legs were not yet stable enough to take her weight.
‘Go home; I don’t want you out again this late.’
Then snatching the collar of his jacket, he whipped it from her body and walked away into the night that had birthed him. His actions didn’t offend her, but she was curious. Rushe was keeping something from her. This might not be a new phenomenon, but the guilt was. In the past when he’d had guilt over her safety, he thought he had compromised it and so wanted to make amends. That wasn’t the case tonight, because if it were he would never have left her here like this.
He’d said that something else was going on. Rushe would always know more than she did, but this went deeper than dates and names. Speculating did nothing to illuminate any details for her, and she had no idea when she would see him again.
Flick didn’t hang around in the alley. In the past trouble had sought her out, and so she didn’t want to tempt fate.
Her encounter with Rushe vibrated through her on the trek back to her building. During her ride up in the elevator, Flick thought about Rushe returning to his hotel suite. But the smile on her face and the warmth around her heart chilled when the elevator doors opened, and she saw that their apartment door was slightly ajar.
Creeping forward, Flick had no time to consider her options, though if she had she would have realised that she didn’t have any. Rushe wasn’t here, so she had to go in, alone.
The corridor had never seemed so long as it did tonight, but eventually she got to the door. Giving it a push, Flick noticed nothing out of place, but from this angle all she could see was the part of the living room not protected from view by the kitchen wall.
‘Hello!’ Flick shouted out, hoping that if it was just a gang of kids, or a regular intruder, they would flee on fear of being caught.
Unsurprisingly, no one shouted back, and using the light switch yielded no response either. With one step and then another, Flick pushed the front door all the way open and began to move inside.
From the living room she had a clear shot out of the abode. Once she moved into the bedrooms, her escape route could be cut off. The coat closet behind the front door was open, and some of its contents were scattered, but she wasn’t going to inspect the mess for details, she wouldn’t turn her back on anyone who might still be here.
As soon as her view of the rest of the apartment beyond the kitchen wall expanded, her heart sank. The drawers in the unit under the wall-mounted TV were out and upside down. The kitchen was trashed. The people who had done this were looking for something, or hoping to cause as much carnage as possible.
She took the time to enter the kitchen so she could locate one of the knives from the butcher’s block, which was currently in the middle of the floor with only half its contents. The rest of the blades were lost somewhere in the mess.
With the long knife at her side, Flick took a deep breath and focused on the bedroom doors. She knew it was unlikely anyone would be in the bathroom, but she opened the door to see that the room was largely undisturbed. Neither she nor Rushe used it with any regularity, so there was nothing in the room to tamper with.
The next room was the second bedroom, and it had been wrecked. The gym equipment was all that would offer cover in this room, because the desk stood on four metal legs. No one was here. The computer was gone, the gym mats were slashed, and the desk drawer was empty except for a couple of sheets of paper in the bottom.
Flick picked up the paper but didn’t look at it. She spun around, knowing that she’d given the intruders plenty of time to flee if they wanted to. Had Rushe been here, he wouldn’t have wanted them to escape. Flick didn’t think herself a coward, but she was alone and would be ineffectual in comparison to Rushe at punishing the vandals.
Her fear must have gone beyond the physical, because when she entered the bedroom tears sprung to her eyes. Their beautiful room was in disarray. The place they shared their love was covered in torn clothes and ripped bed linen. Everything was out, nothing remained where it should be, the nightstands were tipped over, the sliding doors of the closet pulled from their runners. Condoms were strewn around the room too, like some sort of mocking symbol for what had, or hadn’t, gone on in here.
Confident that whoever had done this was no longer here, Flick went into the en-suite more upset than afraid. She found more of the same disorder. On a long sigh, she turned in circles looking at the mess, and then took another journey through the apartment.
Her instinct to call the police dissolved as quickly as she established it. Rushe wouldn’t call the police, and this was his place. Flick wasn’t sure if he had insurance either, so a crime report reference was irrelevant. Rushe would rather go after the perpetrators alone. If they were serious people then Flick didn’t want that, because he might get hurt. If they were small time, then Rushe might hurt them and get himself in trouble.
But this didn’t feel accidental. For one thing, they had to pass many other apartments to get to this one. The building was decent and the area respectable enough that anything that was noticeably shady would be reported, of that Flick had no doubt. The television wasn’t gone, but the computer was. Rushe’s pager was gone, but her jewellery was still here.
In the bedroom, again Flick tried to figure out what to do next. Dropping to the corner of the bed to sit on the split-open mattress, she hooked her arm around the bedpost, and then realised she was still holding the papers from the office drawer. She’d never seen Rushe deal with paperwork, and she hadn’t gone looking, but it would be worth knowing if what they had left was important.
The more Flick read, the deeper her frown became. It was a lease, a property lease, for this apartment. She had assumed that Rushe owned this apartment, but that wasn’t the most concerning detail. The lease was in the name of Jimmy Jones, and it was dated... the day before she arrived here. Either Rushe’s real name was Jimmy Jones, or...
‘He doesn’t live here,’ she whispered.
When Rushe had made her pack up her things and given her the choice to come with him or not, Flick had assumed they were going to his house, his home, wherever he lived. This apartment was the place that Rushe had brought her to, and Flick hadn’t questioned him. She had no need to, because she believed that they were embarking on a new and honest life with each other.
Rushe would have his reasons for misleading her, and as was always the case with Rushe, those reasons would make sense. But the reasons weren’t as concerning as his motive. Only one of two things could be going on here: either Rushe wanted to protect her, or he didn’t plan for them being together for very long.
While she desperately hoped the latter wasn’t true, Flick struggled to come up with reasons for the former. Nothing came to mind. If by not telling her the truth he was trying to protect her, then he had to be protecting her from something about his own life, his real life. All these months she’d shared his bed and she thought they were getting closer, but all throughout that period Rushe k
new that their existence together was a fabrication.
Trust didn’t come easily to Rushe. This development, the new information, hurt Flick. But she reminded herself that Rushe had always acted in her best interest, so she would have to trust him now. Not that she had a choice; they weren’t able to communicate, unless he planned to pick her off another street in the middle of the night.
Conjecture wouldn’t solve this new mystery, and neither would just sitting here on the bed. So Flick picked through the chaos and stuffed everything salvageable into her ripped suitcase. She had a date tomorrow and a work shift the following night, though she’d have to request a new uniform.
Closing the door at her back, Flick made a mental note to phone a locksmith in the morning. Then she went back to the street, and back to the hotel she’d vacated that morning.
Chapter Fifteen
Reserving her room at the hotel had been easy, and no one had recognised her, so she had the night and the day to herself. From what she had recovered from the apartment, Flick couldn’t find anything suitable to wear for a date. So after she had supervised the locksmith as he fitted new locks, Flick took her credit card for a walk, but it didn’t make her feel any better.
By the time she got to the lobby for her date with Whyte, she was positively pissed off, having spent most of the day mentally riling herself about Rushe’s deception.
‘Good evening.’
Flick was alarmed by the proximity of Whyte’s voice. She hadn’t been aware of him, but then she hadn’t been looking. ‘Hello.’
‘You were in a daze, I’m sorry, did I startle you?’
‘No,’ Flick said, watching him kiss her hand. ‘No, sorry.’
‘Is everything ok?’
His look of concern was curious, and Flick reminded herself to smile. ‘Yes, of course. Where are we going tonight? What did you want to show me?’
‘I’m aware that I don’t want to dissuade you. But there’s openness in you, and I want to be honest, I want us to be honest with each other.’
‘Yes, of course.’
Whyte began to draw her toward the elevator. ‘You asked about changing your shift at the Lounge.’
‘Yes,’ Flick said, when he pressed the button for the lift.
‘I know you must be curious about Rosa’s reaction to your request, and about Joey’s fondness for the place on a Monday specifically.’
‘Well, yes.’
Flick wasn’t going to lie, and Whyte was giving her the chance to find out what she wanted to know. Typical that as it became apparent her own real relationship was based on a lie, this false relationship was all about honesty... on Whyte’s part at least.
‘I’m going to take you down,’ he said, guiding them onto the elevator. He pressed the lowest button and took hold of both her hands. ‘I want you to see what the Lounge offers on these three days, Monday through Wednesday. If you become uncomfortable at any time, we can leave.’
Flick nodded. The only consolation Flick had given Rushe was that she and Whyte wouldn’t be alone. Going to the Lounge didn’t negate that promise. On reaching their floor, Whyte took her to the tall black door she recognised from her work on the other side of it.
‘Just take your time to look around, ok?’
Flick nodded again and smiled, which brought out Whyte’s smile. He ushered her inside, then they stopped, giving her a chance to absorb the new features. If Whyte hadn’t warned her in advance that this was a location she knew, Flick wouldn’t have recognised it.
Music with a heavy bass line pumped into the air and the stage was lit up, spotlighting a dancing nude woman. Two topless women danced on the bar with a metal pole that Flick had thought was structural.
‘Welcome to the X-Lounge. What do you think?’ Whyte leaned in close to her ear to talk, but Flick was still captivated by it all.
The number of patrons hadn’t increased, and the betting tables were still in play, but Flick couldn’t see the armchairs that usually sat beside the bar. They moved further into the space, and she noticed the couch area had lower voltage lighting, and she could just distinguish the shapes of the armchairs scattered there too.
More men were in that section tonight, which she attributed to the fact that there were women dancing on some of the low centre tables. In the shadows, there were three females giving private dances.
Whyte took her hand to lead her toward a table. Flick struggled to take her eyes away from the vision of the dancing women and eager men. Rosa intercepted them.
‘What is she doing here?’ Rosa called over the music.
‘I thought it was time she knew,’ Whyte said, switching Flick’s hand between his to move her body in front of his. ‘We have nothing to hide here, Rosa.’
Certainly, Rosa had nothing to hide. The uniform for tonight was still black and red but consisted of a push up bra, hot pants, and hold up stockings with garters instead of suspenders.
‘You want me to switch her?’ Rosa asked, with a thread of doubt. Flick was still drinking in the thumping music and constant movement of the women, while the slobbering men devoured each nuance.
‘It’s her decision.’
Whyte didn’t wait to say more to Rosa; he took them to a table and guided Flick into a chair. ‘This place is amazing,’ Flick said. Drawn in by the music, her smile was involuntary, and Whyte relished watching her enjoying herself.
‘I wasn’t sure how you would react,’ he said. ‘I’m glad that you like it.’
‘I do... when I think of some of the things I dreamt up.’ Flick had to laugh.
‘What were we doing down here? Drugs den? Human slave trade, what?’
‘All of the above,’ Flick said, though she hadn’t really thought those things.
‘I have nothing to hide, Flick,’ Whyte said, opening his arms to the venue. ‘This is what the customers want, and they’re always right. In the twenty-first century, competition for business is fierce. If we don’t evolve, we die.’
‘This is evolving,’ Flick said, still watching the people, the movement, the joy of the place, infused with a thrumming sexual energy.
Men craved the women who taunted them with what they couldn’t have. Music raised the energy, the women raised the blood pressure, and Flick was sure every man in the place had risen too.
‘I’m going to get you a drink,’ Whyte said, taking her hand and kissing it again as he left the table.
Flick was barely aware of him, and not alert enough to remember that this place, her place of employment, offered table service.
‘Hi.’
Flick glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the voice she recognised, and she saw Rushe there, standing at her shoulder. ‘Whyte will be back in a minute.’
‘We met night before last, we know each other now. I’m saying hello.’
His tone was about as happy as she felt. All enjoyment of the environment was gone, and she was tempted to throw her elbow up into his gonads.
‘Hello. Now go away.’
‘What are you doing here?’ Rushe growled.
‘I don’t see how that’s any of your business.’
He curved around to sit on the seat perpendicular to hers, thus blocking everything else in the room out of her line of vision. His hand remained on the back of her chair so he kept her in the arched enclosure of his arm, though it didn’t actually touch her. ‘You’re in a joint selling sex with a guy who wants to fuck your cunt, which belongs to me—‘
‘Don’t you take a tone with me,’ she whispered, leaning closer to conceal her expression from onlookers. ‘Your sex talk’s not going to work, Lover. Go as caveman as you like, it’s not going to work with me, you lying sack of shit.’
So much for Flick trying to give him the benefit of the doubt – her trust in him might be intact, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t angry.
‘What the—‘
‘Our place got tossed last night,’ Flick said. ‘They took the computer, your pager, trashed the place—‘
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‘What?’ Rushe said, his own brow crashing down over his eyes. ‘You were there?’
‘No.’
‘Last night when we were...’
‘Maybe,’ Flick said. ‘Now that you mention it, was that your role? To keep me busy?’
‘Eric watched you go into the building, but he didn’t—‘
‘You’ve got your sleazy friends following me?’
‘I told you I’d be watching.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Flick said. ‘Let’s just add that deception onto the list with your other ones, shall we? Jimmy?’
‘What the fuck are you—‘
‘Rushe, good evening!’
Flick sat back with her broad smile in place when Whyte returned to the table. Her lover’s fingers slid away from her backrest when Whyte maintained his standing position between her and Rushe as he handed over her glass.
‘I’m showing Flick the place,’ Whyte said to him, and then leaned down toward her. ‘Rushe is a fan of the X-Lounge; he’s becoming a regular already.’
‘Yeah,’ Rushe said, jolting up to his feet while he maintained his focus on Flick. He glanced to her drink then took a step away and looked at Whyte. ‘She doesn’t like vodka.’
On those clipped words, Rushe took off in the direction of the couches, of the private dancers. Whyte took the seat that Rushe had vacated. ‘How does he know that—?’
‘He misunderstood,’ Flick said, taking an exaggerated sip from the glass. ‘I told a joke. He obviously didn’t understand that I was kidding.’
‘I can get you something else if—‘
‘No,’ she said, drinking again. ‘No, I don’t need anything else.’
Flick didn’t dare look in the direction Rushe had gone. The frustration boiled in her gut; their altercation was unfinished. Their home had been robbed, which triggered a lot of questions. Except it wasn’t their home. Flick didn’t know what it was.
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