Dirty Laundry

by Lauren Landish

  “Nothing anymore,” I say, feeling the pain in my chest that comes with talking about it. Those days are gone. Despite Mindy’s encouragement, I haven’t given much thought to singing. But looking over the railing of the VIP lounge at the stage, I feel that same longing and admit to myself that there’s a void where singing used to be in my heart. I force myself to look away, feeling a lump form in my throat. “I stopped when I went back to college.”

  “Why?” Jake asks, leaning forward. “I can see in your eyes that you practically want to run down there right now and grab a mic.”

  “Yeah, well,” I say softly, shaking my head, “I didn’t think it was right that I wasn’t really making any money doing it and instead was mooching off my mom and stepfather. I thought it was time to move on, support myself.”

  Jake nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. “Let me ask you, which makes you happier, singing or working at Franklin?”

  “Singing,” I answer without even pausing for breath. “I don’t care what. Rock, pop, just about anything but country. But . . . like I said, I’m done living off someone else, Jake.”

  Jake hums, then finishes the rest of his drink. “Mind singing something for me? Call it . . . call it your penance for accidentally stealing my wallet.”

  “I don’t think so,” I say. “I haven’t sung in so long, I’m pretty sure my voice would crack. I don’t want to burst your eardrums. I thought I killed you once as it is.”

  Jake chuckles. He looks like he wants to press the issue but doesn’t. Instead, he leans back, crossing his hands over his left knee. “Point taken. For now, but I’m not giving up just yet.”

  I’m almost tempted to say that I could maybe sing a little tonight, but before I can, Nathan comes up the stairs, cursing and yelling into the air. “I told you to check the fucking hidden costs, didn’t I? In fact, I remember specifically telling you, ‘No way in hell should you sink your money in this, Titus. It’s a golden turd.’ Now you’re calling me to bitch that you’re losing money? Get the fuck outta’ here!”

  “You guys been friends long?” I ask as Nathan heads off to the other end of the VIP section, where I see a laptop on one of the tables there.

  “Since childhood,” he says. “He moved into the neighborhood when he was nine, and we’ve been friends ever since.”

  “He certainly has a way with words.”

  Jake chuckles. “That he does. Not always to his benefit.”

  I nod, smirking. “I think his first few words to me were sleazy broad, and I’m sure fuck was in the first sentence.”

  Jake swallows, looking embarrassed. “Was it? I’ll have to talk to him.”

  I shake my head, waving him off. “I was running out of that back room. He had no idea who the hell I was.”

  Nathan comes over, his eyes twinkling in curiosity like he’s waiting to be introduced.

  Jake gives him a head nod. “Nathan, this is Roxy. She brought back my wallet. Not bad for a sleazy broad, huh?”

  Nathan looks abashed, but he laughs. “You’re right. Roxy, I apologize. My mouth gets the better of me sometimes. I looked at the video, and I promise you, if that asshole who tried to drug you comes in, he’s gonna find out I haven’t forgotten the old ways from the neighborhood.”

  I offer my hand, and Nathan shakes it, then kisses my knuckles. “I like this side of you a lot more than the first impression,” I say.

  “Of course. You know—” Nathan says when suddenly, there’s a crash down below. A drunken woman decided that Club Jasmine’s chairs were just perfect for her recreation of The Pussycat Dolls’ Buttons dancing, and she’s knocked a table, a waitress, and a bunch of other stuff onto the floor. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Excuse me.”

  Nathan heads for the stairs, talking loudly in a juicy Bronx accent that I’m sure has plenty of people quivering in fear even as I try to hold in my laughter. “You know who he reminds me of?”

  “Who?” Jake asks, and I laugh again. “No, really, who?”

  “Joe Pesci. Like, how he looked in Goodfellas. Like Nathan would totally be at ease carrying a baseball bat right now.”

  “Oh, don’t give him any ideas,” Jake says, chuckling. “Nathan’s a genius when it comes to making money, but there’s a reason he’s not working for a firm. He tried working for Goldman Sachs right out of college and ended up getting fired.”

  “Why?” I ask, and Jake laughs.

  “One of the Vice Presidents had a proposal, and Nathan told him in his typical manner that he disagreed with it. When the VP decided to defend himself by saying that one of the Seven Dwarves shouldn’t be worrying about what real men said, Nathan decided to get even. By the time Nathan was done, the VP was crying. I still don’t know how he didn’t get arrested for that one.”

  “Damn, and you’re business partners with him?”

  Jake laughs. “Don’t let his foul mouth fool you. He's sharp as a blade when it comes to running a business.”

  I nod, intrigued. “Well, maybe I underestimated him then.”

  “So, how long have you been working at Franklin Consolidated?” he asks me, changing subjects. “I decided not to pry.”

  “For almost a year. I recently got a promotion, so I’m moving up some,” I say with a touch of pride. “Apparently, I’m decent at something, too.”

  “That’s nice,” Jake says. “But no offense, you just don’t strike me as the corporate monkey type.”

  “I didn’t think I was either. Before going back to school, I was . . . I was more free-spirited.”

  Jake hums in appreciation. “You know, I think I saw a hint of that the other night. Unless you’re in a habit of being that . . . free-spirited.”

  At the mention of my behavior on Saturday, I feel myself blush all the way to the roots of my hair, and I scratch at my chin. “Yeah . . . about that. I’m embarrassed about that. I’m normally not that hard up,” I say bluntly, feeling my confidence rising. “I’m usually a straight shooter, but I’m not that forward.” I take a deep breath and blurt it out brutally. “It’s been a while—let’s just leave it at that.”

  He watches me intently, like he’s studying me. “I believe you.”

  I’m tempted by the look in his eyes. He’s so handsome, so confident and assured, that I almost want to slide across the seat and kiss him. I want him to take me in the back and to finish what we started Saturday night, but Hannah’s right. All business, all business, I think to myself. In desperation, I try to think of something else to say. “So . . . how’d you get to where you are at your age? I mean, you’re not that much older than I am, are you?”

  “Probably not,” Jake agrees. “I had a fire lit under my ass after I become caretaker for my sister.”

  “Your sister?” I ask, surprised. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

  “Yes, she lives with me. Has ever since our parents passed,” Jake says. He leans forward, and looking at him, I feel like I’m seeing a side of him that few people do, and it’s a side that I want even more than what I saw on Saturday. “I had to grow up quickly.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I say honestly, reaching out and patting his hand. “You must care for her very much.”

  The conversation flows, the two of us growing closer as we find so much in common. Besides the surface things like similar tastes in music, we both see the world as a place to stand on your own, to make your own mark somehow. I order another Mermaid, but Jake stops me after my second, and it’s with a shock that I realize it’s near midnight. “Oh, wow,” I say, not slurring very much. “I guess it’s time to go home.”

  “Come on, I’ll drive you like I said,” Jake says, helping me to my feet. He’s so close, I can’t help it as I press myself against him, looking in his eyes, and his hand falls to my lower back. He lowers his lips, kissing me softly, and I kiss him back, not with the fiery passion of Saturday night but with something truer.

  “Jake . . .” I whisper when I step back, biting my lip in torn desire. “This is the
hardest thing I’ve ever said in my life because I want you so fucking badly right now, but I need you to call me a cab. You’re my boss, and we can’t finish what this starts. We need to keep this strictly business.”

  Jake swallows, and I feel his hand pull me even tighter, but he stops and lets me go. With a shuddering breath, he nods. “Okay. I’ll have the staff call you a cab.”

  I nod and reach down, grabbing my purse. “Thank you. Jake . . . this is like the best club I’ve ever seen, but I don’t think I should come back here. I think you know why.”

  Jake swallows and nods. “I do.”

  He calls John the security guy over, giving him instructions. John nods, and Jake turns back to me. “You’re all set. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “I am, and yes,” I say, giving Jake a smile. “Goodnight.”

  John escorts me downstairs and out to the already waiting cab, closing the door for me. Just as the cab gets ready to pull away, I see the door to Club Jasmine open again, and Jake steps out, giving me a wave. As the cab pulls away and I give him a wave back, there’s something inside me that says this is just the beginning.

  Jake

  Strictly business.

  Roxy’s words run through my mind as I button up the cuff links of my dress shirt, the early morning sunset peeking in a fiery orange through the window behind me. I finish my shirt and turn around, keeping my eyes directly from the sun but looking out over the city. It’s peaceful, certainly not as bustling as New York or one of those other cities that never seems to sleep.

  It shouldn’t really be a problem. Being Roxy’s boss definitely changes things. I can’t even lie about how I’m new in town or that she doesn’t report directly to me. It’d be a problem eventually if we kept seeing each other. But I can’t divorce myself from the way she felt underneath my hands. The images flash in my mind, making my dick swell in my custom-tailored Italian slacks, and I unconsciously reach down to adjust myself as I turn away from the window.

  But more than her body, I can’t get over what she told me.

  I run my hand over my freshly shaven cheeks, checking for any missed spots as I think about our conversation yesterday. I just can’t get over the look in her eyes when she told me she’d given up her dream to work in the soul-sucking corporate world. It crushed me, and her tiny attempt at salvaging her pride by saying she got a promotion just made it worse. It made me feel for her, not as a woman I’d like to fuck, but as a person I’d like to help.

  Here I am, living part of my dream by being able to start my own business, which by every measure is going to be hugely successful, and she has to work a job she isn’t happy with. I could see the spark she has for life is dimmed by it all. And being around her makes me want to reignite it. I just don’t know how.

  Saturday night, if I’d heard her story, it would have been easy. Foolish, most likely, but easy. Now, we’re bound by rules. There’s corporate protocol we have to follow. And I fucking hate rules. I’ve played by my own as much as I can for my whole life. It’s the main reason I always want to be the one in charge. I know that eventually, my penchant for doing it my own way is going to make enemies if I’m not the one making the decisions. One misstep will have my ass flapping in the wind.

  I finish up my grooming, grabbing my suit coat off the bed. The bed is an absolute mess, but my maid will be in here to clean it up. I throw my coat over my shoulder and leave my bedroom. I’ll save the coat for later when I’m getting ready to go to the office.

  I walk down the hall and knock on Sophie’s door. She’s been a sleepyhead recently, and I’m not going to let her skip school because I trusted her to get up on her own.

  “Get up, Sophie,” I say. “Rise and shine.”

  I hear a groan in the room and a creaking bed. Great, she hasn’t even woken up yet. When she doesn’t reply, I open the door and peek in. All I see is a spray of hair sticking out from under the sheet and what looks like her left foot hanging out below.

  “Sophie, get up,” I say, tapping on the door. “You’ve got twenty minutes.”

  Sophie’s reply is a low, grumbling moan. “Ugh, I’m trying to sleep.”

  With no warning, I grab the blanket and sheet near her ankle and yank the covers.

  “Ohmygawd! It’s cold, you ass!” Sophie yells, trying to grab the blanket, but I pull it the rest of the way off. Her disheveled hair gives her a stringy, mop-top appearance as she looks up at me with red eyes. She must’ve been up late last night, and I only hope it’s because she was cracking her history books.

  “Get up. You have that test, remember?”

  “Can’t you just give me a note and call in sick?” Sophie says, reaching for the little decorative blanket over her headboard, but before she can, I snatch it up and throw it out the door. “I fucking hate that class!”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I reply, knowing the feeling. “Get up unless you want me to get the Super Soaker.”

  I’m not one to be physical with a woman, but I’ve found the squirt gun a great way to get a teenage girl out of bed quickly. “Jerk,” she mutters. She grumbles and gets out of bed. “You’re the world’s biggest asshole.”

  “An asshole who wants what’s best for you,” I say, holding back my grin. I know she doesn’t mean anything by it. “And be careful. I don’t want you to fall and crack that big head of yours.”

  I leave her room and go in the kitchen, indulging in one of my personal hobbies. Setting my coat across the back of a chair, I grab the cast-iron skillet and start making breakfast. Six minutes later, I have scrambled eggs, toast, marmalade, and a glass of orange juice sitting at the table. Sophie comes out, and while her eyes are still red, she’s at least brushed her hair out and looks cute, in a sort of teenage high school fuck the world, I wanna be in bed sort of way.

  “You stay up all night?” I ask. “You seemed to be sleeping when I came home.”

  Sophie nods. “I tried, but I woke up. I was on my phone.”

  Alarm bells go off in my head. “With whom?”

  “Jax,” she says flippantly, as if texting with someone that late is normal.

  My stomach tightens. “Who’s he?”

  “Just a boy from my math class,” she says. “We talk sometimes.”

  I bite my tongue. That’s something I don’t really want to touch unless I absolutely have to. “Cool,” I say, trying to be nonchalant. “Bring him by sometime so I can meet him.”

  She’s mortified. “Seriously? You’re cool and all, but I don’t want to scare him away.”

  Exactly, I think inwardly.

  We finish breakfast and go out and get in my ride, a ten-year-old Maserati that I keep in tip-top shape. I could let the horses loose on her and smoke just about anything on the streets if I wanted. But it’s not my thing anymore. Like I told Roxy, I had to grow up fast. I usually drive Sophie to school instead of having a driver take her unless it’s unavoidable. I work so much that I don’t see enough of her as it is.

  The early morning traffic is just starting to get brutal on the way to Sophie’s high school, but we talk about things on the way. Most importantly to me, this Jax. She tries to be as secretive as possible. I’m not liking it, but I’m not going to make a deal of it.

  Sophie looks over at me as we pull to a stop light. “You look handsome today,” she says, changing the subject.

  “All right,” I reply with a laugh. “What do you want this time?”

  “No, seriously. You have an extra pep in your step or something today,” says Sophie. “Something just seems different. I’m not trying to be weird or say you don’t dress well usually. All my girlfriends seem to notice.”

  “Good for them,” I say. “But I’m too old and definitely not the Prince Charming they think I am.”

  Sophie laughs. “Just trying to poke and see if there’s something going on I don’t know about. It’d be nice to see you focus on yourself for once. You’ve done enough for me.”

  I’m silenced, and I’m glad we’ve reached her
school. It’s not really something I want to talk about right now. I pull up out front, seeing the crowded student parking lot. I’ve considered getting her a car for her next birthday, but as crowded as that parking lot is, I’m not sure it’d do any good.

  Sophie opens her door and grabs her bag, starting to get out before she stops and sits back down, giving me a half-pouting look. “For real, Jake. Chill out some. Go have some damn fun.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  She grins and jumps out. “Thanks. You’re still a jerk for threatening the Super Soaker, but I’ll keep you around.”

  “You’d better ace that test!” I call after her as she closes the passenger door.

  I pull away and turn left at the first light, catching the main boulevard to head into the office. As I park and take the elevator up to Franklin Consolidated, I watch the city rise through the glass outside the elevator. It’s beautiful, and I’m looking forward to the day, maybe even more than a normal Tuesday. I glance down at my Rolex as the doors open. “Just on time.”

  It’s a bustle of activity as I walk onto the main floor. People are calling clients, and I can hear the hum, the lifeblood of business flowing through the cubicle maze. I see people hustling, and I wonder if just my presence here after one day is making the changes that I want to see.

  My eyes scan the room as I walk through on the way to my office, but I’m really only looking for one person in particular. Finally, I see Roxy, my stomach going tight as I take in her dark skirt and blue blouse. She looks up, almost as if she felt my eyes on her, and our eyes meet. She tears her gaze away, but not before I see the slight flush of pink on her neck. The corner of my lips lifts into a grin, and I turn away, heading to my office.

  I get in and set my briefcase aside. Pulling my laptop to me, I fire it up and get to work. There’s a report request from corporate about my first impressions on the managers and who I might see being potential ‘trimmings’, but it’s too early for that. I send back a message saying that I need the rest of the week for evaluations, but I’ll get them my initial ideas by Friday.