Dirty Laundry

by Lauren Landish

  My little angel is a thief.

  Roll the footage,” Nathan orders Andre, our head security guy.

  I’d sat in the bedroom for twenty minutes, trying to gather myself before Nathan came back and helped me through the back to the security room. I can stand on my own, but the world’s still spinning a little, and I know I probably sound drunk as hell. Still, I’ve got my wits about me, more or less.

  “That’s her!” I half-slur, pointing as I get up. I grab the edge of the desk as a wave of dizziness washes over me. On the video, Roxy is approached by some guy, and I recognize him. He was there when I approached her. He orders her a beer, and she never touches it, but when she looks away, you can see as clear as day that he slips something in the bottle.

  “Son of a bitch,” Nathan breathes. “That bastard slipped something in her drink!”

  I grab the edge of the security desk in a white-knuckled grip, my lip curling as I stare at the image on the screen, searing the man’s face into my memory. If I ever see him again, he’s going to get a beating. “Find him.”

  Andre clears his throat. “I’ll get on the radio to the floor guys, and I’ll keep checking footage here. Trust me, if that asshole shows up again, he’s gonna catch a beatdown.”

  “Okay, maybe I was wrong about the girl,” Nathan admits as we leave. I’m angry and would love nothing more than to go track this guy down, but the drug’s effect is too strong for me. “But it still doesn’t explain the wallet.”

  “I’m going to go with it was an accident.” It’s the only alternative to she stole it and the one I want to believe most. Even an angel makes mistakes.

  “Either way, we got a huge problem on our hands if this motherfucker is going around doin’ this shit. We have to catch him. I just don't know if we should call the police now or after we catch him,” Nathan says while I recover. “This type of shit is bad for business.”

  “No cops for now,” I half growl, pissed off. “I want to teach this guy a lesson first.”

  Roxy

  “You can’t be serious! You’re not going back there!” Hannah says, pacing the floor of our apartment. Moonlight is shining in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, and even in this state, I have to admit that the view is the thing I like most about the place. Hannah is wearing Barney pajamas, of all things, and has put her hair into pigtails. I swear she looks like a big-eyed Angelica from the kids’ cartoon Rugrats.

  Our grumpy looking cat, Mr. Felix, an orange and white Persian who adopted us when we were seniors in college, lazily watches her pace the room from his perch on the couch. I’m sure to him, his only concern about all of this is whether he’s going to have to get strict when it comes time for his humans to put out his food in the morning.

  “Why not?” I demand. “I have his wallet. He’s gonna think I stole it.”

  Hannah stops to scowl at me. “Honey, by now, he already thinks you stole it! Because, well, you did.”

  “I did not!” I protest. “I just didn’t realize I’d stuffed it in my purse in my panic to leave.”

  Her words sink in, and I feel a feeling of despair creep through me. “There must be something I can do. I can’t keep his wallet. The longer I have it, the guiltier I’ll look.”

  Hannah nods. “There is. Just go by Monday and turn it in to the club. Or better yet, mail it to the guy. You have his address, assuming his driver’s license is up to date.”

  “Wait,” I say. “Let me look him up.” I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Taking out his wallet, I pull out his license and see that it’s out of state, which makes me worry. But I have his full name, and I type it into Google on my phone.

  The first headline makes my eyes go wide, and I jump so hard I nearly drop the phone. Corporate Executive And Stock Wizard Opens Club Jasmine. I click the link and see that most of it is a PR piece that was published just yesterday. My heart hammers in my chest as I read about how the two friends came together to open up Club Jasmine and how they wanted to make a new type of nightclub for the city. But the photo catches my attention more. It’s the same face, the same piercing eyes that captured me earlier tonight. He’s standing in the picture with the same guy who accosted me in the hallway.

  “Oh, my God, he owns the club with his friend. That’s the same guy I saw in the hallway.”

  “Let me see.” Hannah grabs the phone. “Shit, you weren’t lying. Mr. Jake Stone is sexy as hell. He’s got those looks and money. Life ain’t fair.”

  “Yeah, not fair that he passed out before I could ride him to heaven and back,” I complain.

  Hannah stares at the article for a little more, then hands my phone back to me. “That pretty much seals it. You’re not going back there. There’s no way they’d believe your story. You’ll just be some gold digger in their eyes.”

  “Hey!” I protest, hurt. “I’m not a gold digging skank!” She’s right, though, and I feel horrible. I wish there were something I could do. But now I’m too afraid.

  Not to mention my body is all sorts of mixed up with my hormones going in so many different directions that I can’t focus at all. I’m horny, scared, angry, and even a little bit hungry. “I can’t believe I was about to sleep with the owner of the club,” I say to myself. “Why did he pretend like he wasn’t some big shot?”

  “Who knows? Don’t worry, chica,” Hannah says, coming over to wrap an arm around me in a sweet embrace. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

  Right then, my phone buzzes and I glance down. Tears come to my eyes as I feel a tug in my heart. “It’s Mindy,” I say. “Not sure why she’s calling this late.”

  “My cue to go to bed then,” Hannah says, delivering a kiss to my forehead before getting up. “Answer it and tell her all about the night. Considering how crazy you both are, I bet she has a story to one-up you. Just save some of the Cherry Garcia for me. I know how you get when you start talking with your sister.”

  Hannah goes to leave, but before she can totally leave, I call out. “Hannah?”

  She turns around, her hand on the door jamb to her bedroom. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for being here for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Probably actually end up killing guys to get your needs met,” Hannah says. “And you’d probably have the freezer stocked with those dick-shaped popsicles that have sweet cream filling.”

  I scowl, my lip curling. “That’s disgusting.”

  “Just joking!” Hannah says, trying to smirk before sticking out her tongue. When that doesn’t work, she sighs melodramatically. “Enjoy your talk with Mindy. Goodnight.”

  Hannah disappears into her bedroom area, and for a split second I debate on answering the phone. But when I think about how long it’s been since I last talked to her, I press the button.

  “Hi, Mindy!” I answer as I would any other time.

  “Hey, Roxy! How's it going?” My sister's voice comes through the phone cheery and upbeat.

  I don’t want to rain on her parade, and I don’t want to get her worried. “Great. How’s things for you and the fam?”

  “Really? That’s good. I didn’t know if you’d still be up. I know you're wondering why I’m calling this late, but I finally got some downtime from handling Leah and thought I'd call you and leave you a voicemail.”

  I smile, thinking about Leah. The spitting image of Mindy if you shrank her down and made her chubbier and cute, she’s the darling of everyone in the family. And with a new generation of women in the family, Grandma finally feels like she’s accomplished nearly everything that a woman could ask for. She’s cute as a button, and if she’s anything like her mother or her aunt, Mindy’s going to have her hands full.

  “How's my favorite little niece doing?” I ask. “Still wrapping every man she meets around her little finger?”

  “Of course. She’s starting to talk more, and I’m trying to take her out so she can make friends with other kids her age,” Mindy says. “It's crazy keeping up with them.”


  “That's wonderful. I wish I could see her.” That's one of the things I regret about living far away from family. I have missed out on the important moments.

  “I wish so too,” Mindy says wistfully. “You know, Oliver asks about you all the time. I think he thinks of you as our good luck charm, or maybe the sister he never had.”

  I hold my tongue because she’s right. I feel like I somehow, in a weird, fucked up way, had a hand in getting them together. And some of my favorite memories of the past few years have been with Mindy and Oli. “How's work?” Mindy asks.

  “Stressful,” I admit. “I work an insane number of hours, but I’m still learning and it’s getting easier. I’m getting a promotion, though.”

  “You are? That's wonderful!” Mindy says earnestly. “I knew you could do it. Are you excited?”

  “I am,” I say halfheartedly. “I start Monday.”

  Mindy’s quiet for a moment, and when she speaks again, her voice is soft, worried. “Is everything all right, Roxy?”

  “I’m fine,” I say. “Just tired.”

  “Don't lie to me. I can hear it in your voice,” Mindy says. “Spill it.”

  For a moment, I debate on telling her the truth. It’s not that I think she’d judge me, but maybe it’s just a little too soon.

  “Come on, Roxy,” Mindy presses. “I'm not going to give up until you tell me. If I have to, I’ll fly Oliver out there to start poking around, and you know how he is!”

  I let out a sigh. “Fine. As long as you promise not to laugh. I’m sure I’ll think it’s funny later on, but it scared me shitless.”

  “Deal. I’d pinky swear, but this is the phone.”

  Smiling at the old joke a little, I tell her everything about the creep and Mr. Heartstopper.

  “Holy shit, that's crazy!” Mindy says when I’m done. “I bet that creeper tried to spike your drink!”

  “He . . . holy shit, you’re right!” I say, impressed that Mindy thought of it. I should have thought of it too, honestly. “Still, I feel like hell. I shouldn’t have even gone, but gawd, babe, it’s been so hard. I haven’t had a lot of time for myself, and I just wanted this one night to relax, release, and have fun.” A lump forms in my throat as the words leave my lips. “I miss being the Roxy who sang her ass off for you.”

  Sympathy flows in Mindy’s voice. “Oh, baby, don't be so hard on yourself. I know how you feel. I went through the same thing working at Beangal’s. God, I was so burned out, and that was a place that was literally bought just for me to run. So I totally understand. There was nothing wrong with your going out to relax.”

  The tears threaten to flow from my eyes. “Mindy . . .”

  “You know what? I think it's time for a visit,” Mindy adds. “You got a bestie, I know that, but nobody can get you back to normal like me.”

  “I don't know . . .” I begin, but Mindy laughs.

  “I mean for us to come visit you. We might have some sister time to remind you who the real baddest bitch in the family is, but this would be for the whole family. I want to see how you're living, you can have some baby time, and hell, I’ll even let your roomie drool all over Oliver for a few.”

  It would be nice to see my family again. I need to see my new niece and nephew. “When would that be?”

  “Not sure with the business and all,” Mindy says with a smirk in her voice. “And I think I’ll let it be a surprise anyway.”

  “After tonight, I don’t think I can deal with too many surprises,” I admit, and Mindy chuckles. “I’m serious, Min.”

  “I know, babe, I know. I was just yanking your leg. Listen, let me check the schedule and I’ll get back with you. We’ll probably be there within a month. How’s that sound?”

  “Good,” I admit. “I can hang on until then.”

  There’s a silence, and Mindy speaks again. “What about singing, Roxy? I mean, you always felt better when you had a mic in your hand and were belting out something.”

  “I guess . . . it’s hard, Min. I mean, what’s the point? I wasted a lot of my time on that as it is.”

  “I didn’t say make it a career,” Mindy says gently. “I said sing. Sing for you, sing for your heart. Hell, just go to some karaoke bar and sing for the crowd there.”

  “Maybe,” I admit, thinking about it. She has a point. Maybe I just need to do it for fun. “We’ll see.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” Mindy says, sighing. “You be safe, okay? And I’m calling you Monday. You can tell me about your new job. I love you, Roxy.”

  “Love you too, Mindy. Bye.”

  After Mindy hangs up, I let out a deep sigh. It was nice talking to my sister, but damn, I’ve got a lot on my plate. Having a new boss coming in is stressing me a little. I was finally getting used to things. But now, I’m going to have this Jake Stone nightmare in the back of my mind.

  I pick up Jake’s driver’s license from the table and stare at it before I set it down on the table and sigh, getting up. “He’s handsome, isn't he, Mr. Felix?” I ask.

  Mr. Felix does nothing, practically glaring at me. He probably wants the darkness, and I’m keeping him from his beauty sleep.

  I chuckle, walking over to the light switch to get ready for bed. Tonight may have been a nightmare, but something tells me my dreams are gonna be anything but. Just as I flick the switch, I see his ID on the table again and blow it a little kiss. “Goodnight. See you in my dreams.”

  Jake

  Walking down the hallway from the elevator to the front door of my new penthouse, I lean against the wall, blinking and taking deep breaths. Whatever was in that beer, not only did it come on hard, but it’s hanging around like a monkey on my back. Nathan wanted to follow me up and help me, but I’m too damn prideful for that.

  I finally get inside and collapse into my living room chair, groaning and sitting back. At least now that I’m sitting, I can think a little easier. Besides being drugged and robbed blind, the grand opening of Club Jasmine was an overwhelming success. Everyone had a blast. I don’t know any exact numbers, but we had to bring in well over six figures. Of course, that’s not profit, but it was a good opening night.

  “You look like shit,” says a familiar voice, and with effort, I turn my four hundred-pound head with the nails stuck in it to see my sister, Sophie, standing against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed, eyeing me critically. The penthouse is a large open room, with floor-to-ceiling windows that span the entire length of the main room, giving a breathtaking view of the skyline. Honestly, I’m still getting used to it and slowly breaking in the furniture, but I like it.

  “Why are you still up?” I ask, deflecting. I can't argue with her. I do look like shit. My shirt is rumpled and ripped from where Roxy tore it off, and my eyes are probably bloodshot red. “You were supposed to be in bed hours ago.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she asks, her luminous brown eyes gazing at me incredulously. “It's the weekend. If anything, I should have been out at Club Jasmine jamming with my friends.”

  “No, you shouldn't. We talked about this already. You and your friends are too young,” I half groan, not wanting to go into this right now.

  “So? I'm sure you got into clubs when you were sixteen.”

  “But you're not me and that was a mistake. I'm going to make sure you don't make the same ones,” I remind her for what has to be the thousandth time. I’ll give this to my sister—she’s about as stubborn as I was at her age.

  Sophie rolls her eyes at me. “Whatever. You could’ve at least brought me back one of the signature drinks as a gift. That Little Mermaid drink on the menu looks so delicious.”

  I hide a grin. The Little Mermaid, a sea blue drink with tropical notes, also contains a huge shot of triple sec and rum and could probably put Sophie on her ass with one glass. I came up with the name as pun for Nathan, who likes it. I think about Sophie’s request for a second, then shake my head slowly. “No can do. I don't want you to turn into a full-blown alcoholic because the drinks ar
e just that good. If you’re good, I might let you have a sip for your next birthday. That means grades as well as behavior, by the way.”

  Sophie sticks her tongue out at me. “Thanks, Dad,” she says sarcastically.

  Instead of pushing the point, surprisingly, Sophie changes the subject. “I saw you guys on the news,” she says.

  “Did you?” I heave myself out of the chair and walk over to her, shrugging off my suit jacket and setting it down on the kitchen barstool.

  She nods. “The club looked totally ah-mazing. There were A-listers everywhere, including some delicious man candy. Nathan looked hella fine.” A dreamy expression comes over her face, and I feel like I have to nip this in the bud. I like Nathan—he’s my boy—but there’s no fucking way in hell I’m letting him near Sophie.

  “Nathan is too old for you,” I remind her, “and he has a new girlfriend every other week. He found a new one tonight.”

  Sophie makes a face. She’s not listening again. “Yeah. Because he's hot.”

  “I’ll let others be the judge of that, but if you ask me, it's because he has money. If you have a million bucks in the bank, you can buy yourself a ten. Nathan knows that better than anyone. Some people think money can buy you almost anything.”

  Except happiness, I think inwardly.

  “Besides, the dude is like the same size as you. Do you want a man that you have to tuck into bed every night?”

  Sophie flushes. “Um, no. Of course not.”

  “Okay then. If you’re gonna go for a guy, make sure he’s at least a foot taller than you.” I really don’t care or think it matters, the height of a man, but I just want her to stop with this Nathan shit.

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind having a man buy me things. You’re right about that,” says Sophie, forgetting about Nathan. “I want a boyfriend with money. All the guys at my school will never have anything.”

  “That's a horrible quality to look for in a guy,” I tell her, trying not to get angry. I remind myself that she’s a teenager, and that’s basically another word for ignorantly immature sometimes. “Money isn't everything.”