by J. E. Taylor
Charlie pushed it toward the edge of the desk again.
“No,” he said and headed toward the door.
“I don’t think you fully understand the situation, Steve.”
Spinning in Charlie’s direction he asked, “Why are you doing this?” He approached the desk, glaring at Charlie. “I played your little game, I tried your drugs, now let me the fuck out of here.”
Charlie held the straw out.
Steve knocked it out of his hand. His entire body tingled.
Charlie stood and pressed the gun to Steve’s forehead. He reached into his shirt pocket where he had stuck a couple of straws, plucking one and holding it out to Steve.
“Fuck you.”
The click of the hammer cocking back filled the room, immediately followed by the ringing of Steve’s cell phone. He held Charlie’s gaze while he pulled the phone from his pocket and flipped it open. “What?”
“Steve?” Her voice shook.
“I’m a little busy right now.”
“I had a, a, a nightmare.”
The bustling background of the theater filtered into the phone and he knew from her shaky tone she had another vision and he’d bet a year’s salary that it probably mirrored his current situation. “You okay?” His voice softened, although the smell of gunpowder and oil radiated from the barrel pressing against his forehead. He still held Charlie’s gaze.
“Yeah. You?”
“I’m sure you’ll be just fine. Just grab something to drink and do it again,” Steve said, ignoring the question. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you when you get home.”
“Be careful.” Her words mingled with his exhale and he snapped the phone closed.
Charlie held the straw in front of his line of sight again. “Last chance.”
Steve growled in the back of his throat, muttering curses before he grabbed the straw and sat down, sucking the lines into his sinuses.
Charlie sat back down, staring at Steve. “Are you a cop?”
“Fuck no!” Steve snapped, rubbing his numb nose with his index finger, sniffling repeatedly. “But right now I wish I was one.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’d shoot you.” He sniffed and drew in his breath as the tickling in his nose increased. “Then I’d throw your ass in jail.” A high-pitched sound caught his attention and he swiveled in the chair, looking for the source. His foot tapped uncontrollably on the ground, his heart picking up the pace. “Hell, I’d just shoot you.” He turned his attention back to Charlie.
“So you’re not an undercover cop?”
Steve shook his head. He creased his eyebrows and looked at Charlie. “Why do you keep asking that?”
Charlie lowered the gun. “Because I’m not sure I believe you.”
Steve laughed. “If I was a cop, you’d be in jail by now for tax evasion.”
Charlie inhaled. “You asked me exactly what you were involved in.”
Steve nodded. Ok, Williams, get a grip, it’s time to put on an Emmy winning performance. His eyes slowly went wide, dropping to the mirror and the bag of cocaine. He raised them, meeting Charlie’s gaze, letting his jaw drop.
Charlie bought it, flipping on the gun’s safety and setting it on the desk. “This is a front for my cocaine business. You’ve been laundering the money for me for six months, which, if I’m not mistaken, makes you an accessory.” He pulled the mirror back in front of him and cut up four more lines, snorting them himself. “It’s the finest product on the street.” He wiped the mirror and put it back in the hidden panel in the drawer along with the baggie.
Steve tried not to smile, admonishing himself silently. Look shocked, you idiot! His heart pumped the drug to the far recesses of his body and he couldn’t stop tapping his foot. “How much did you give me? Am I going to have a heart attack? Is it hot in here?” He fired off the questions in quick succession, loosening his tie, the cocaine rush far outpacing his adrenaline.
“Puts speed in the dust, doesn’t it?” Charlie slid the gun under the desk. “Let’s go get a drink and celebrate that contract.”
Steve raised his eyebrows and let a high-pitched laugh escape. “You’re out of your fucking mind. I’m not going anywhere with you. As a matter of fact, I quit.” His foot kept tapping on the floor.
Charlie leaned on the desk. “That bug in your apartment was mine.”
Charlie’s admission caught him by surprise and Steve pushed the chair back. “What?”
“I’ve had someone following you and your pretty girlfriend, so if you think about going to the police with any of this, I’ll have you both killed.” Charlie straightened up. “I’ll expect you in the office tomorrow morning at your regular time. Now, how about that drink?”
Steve blinked, staring at Charlie, his mind firing off in so many different directions he found it hard to concentrate.
Jenny, he just threatened Jenny.
The clarity in that one thought brought him back to the task-at-hand. He caught his reflection in the window behind Charlie and snapped his mouth shut, grinding his teeth together. After a moment, he narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “What’s in it for me?”
Charlie laughed.
Steve crossed his arms and sat back in the chair, giving the impression of seeing the possibilities. “Seriously, Charlie. What do I get out of this arrangement?” He leaned forward. “Since it looks like I’ve got no choice in the matter, I think you should give me more of an incentive here. I’m a damn good lawyer and as such, I’m thinking I should get something out of this beyond the fine salary you’re paying me.” He sniffled, his foot still tapping at an annoying pace. “I’m not getting greedy, but I’ve got some whopping bills hanging over my head, ya know?”
Charlie just stared at Steve, his arms crossed and eyes blazing with anger.
“I’d like to see those bills… disappear.” Steve snapped his finger and smiled at the analogy, bringing them full circle in the conversation. “Much more than her ex.” He stood.
“You don’t have any leverage here,” Charlie spat.
Steve shrugged. “I think I do. And I’m not asking for a cut. I’m just asking for my education bills to be paid. That’s it and I’ll keep doing what I’ve been doing for you. No questions asked. That way I can get my girlfriend some nice things and maybe she won’t throw ceramics at me anymore.”
Charlie broke out in a smile. “You’re something else.” He sighed and nodded. “Consider it done, but if you get greedy on me or start skimming off the top, we’ll be taking a little ride that you won’t come back from.”
“I got it.” Steve stepped closer to Charlie. Feeling invincible now, he stabbed Charlie in the chest with his index finger. “But if you ever point that gun at me again, I’ll break your arm. Understand?”
Charlie shifted his gaze between Steve’s finger and his eyes, and chuckled. “Let’s go get a drink.” He walked to the door and flipped the lock, swinging the heavy wood aside.
Chapter 12
Jennifer paced the empty apartment.
“Where the hell are you?” she muttered, trying his cell phone again. It was past eleven and she was frantic. The vision of the barrel of a gun pressed to his forehead had been enough to throw her into a tizzy at the theater, and his reaction on the phone didn’t help. He’d been too calm, too cold, almost as if he knew.
“Shit!” He didn’t answer and she slammed the phone into the cradle. The various scenarios filled her mind, all ending with him dead and she finally gave in, crossing to his desk and opening the side drawer. Taped on the bottom was Jack’s emergency number and she reached for the paper.
The rattle of the key in the lock caught her attention and she ran to the door, throwing it open. Steve stared at her, wide-eyed, keys poised where the lock had been moments before.
He dropped his briefcase on the floor and stepped into the apartment, pulling her to him without a word. He swung the door closed and kissed her hungrily.
She tasted scotch and pushed
him away. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Work.” He grazed her with his eyes and smiled.
Jennifer knew that look and shook her head. “No.” She was pissed at him and sex was not in the cards at the moment.
Laughing, he reached for her. “Yes.”
Her brow creased as his hand clamped down on her upper arm, pulling her back against him. She studied his glossy dilated eyes and she knew. “Shit, Steve, are you high?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said and pressed his lips against hers, his tongue forcing its way into her protesting mouth.
Jennifer pushed him away. “You’re high? I’ve been scared to death here and you, you’re high?” She couldn’t believe it. Her husband didn’t do drugs. He was a federal officer and this just didn’t happen in her world. “You, you, you stupid son of a bitch!” She swung her open palm toward his face.
Steve grabbed her wrist, stopping the progress of the slap. He yanked her towards him, his arms like a vice, holding her against him as his lips wandered down the curve of her neck. The low chuckle that escaped tickled her skin and she shivered.
“Stop,” she said, but the command lacked conviction and she allowed him to lead her across the loft. His hands wandered, tugging at her clothing and she accepted his kiss. His hardness pressed against the fabric of his slacks, signaling that he was more than ready for her. A flurry of discarded clothing lined the path he cut through the apartment and when they reached the bed, they were both naked; reveling in each other’s sculpted bodies.
Steve flicking his tongue into the curve of her ear, following it to her earlobe. He sucked, and then bit down, chuckling at her soft gasp. There was no tenderness in his touch, just an animal need driven by the drugs. Finding her lips again, he pushed her onto the bed under him, his hands searching and finding the spots that drove her wild, his mouth soon following the trail blazed by his fingertips.
* * * *
Steve rolled off her and ran his hands through his hair, staring at the ceiling, satiated. A small smile graced his lips. “Wow.”
Jennifer sat up on the side of the bed with her back to him. “Son of a bitch,” she said, but didn’t turn.
His smile faded and he reached for her, his fingertips grazing her back.
She swatted his hand away. “Don’t you dare get all lovey-dovey with me. You’re in deep shit. Just because we screwed around doesn’t mean I’m not angry. If you ever come home stoned again, I’m out of here.” She shot into the bathroom.
The lock on the door clicked and Steve slid into his underwear, crossing to the door and wrapping his knuckles gently on the wood. “Jenny?” His heart, finally settled from the frantic drug induced rhythm, tripped into a Mexican jumping bean pace, thudding against his ribs again. “Open the door.” The sound of her retching reached him. “Are you okay?”
“No!” The word broke out between heaves.
The toilet flushed and the water turned on and off before the door finally opened. “I’m not okay.” She sailed past him and threw herself face first on the bed, muffling sobs in the soft down of the pillow.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, running his fingers lightly over her bare shoulders.
“It’s not you. I haven’t been feeling that great the last couple of days.” She sat up and wiped her face. “But I’m still pissed at you for being high.” She sniffled and wiped her nose with a tissue. “I need something to eat.”
“Want me to cook?”
“No, I want to go out.”
They got dressed in silence and left the apartment. “Walk or drive?” Steve asked, holding the door open for her. The unseasonably frigid wind slapped at their faces and they wrapped their coats tighter.
“I’ll drive,” Jennifer answered after a moment’s hesitation.
Steve followed her to the car like a wounded puppy, his hands shoved deep in his coat pockets and his head bowed more to fend off her occasional glare than the bitter wind. He slumped in the passenger seat and she drove through the winding streets, taking quick corners without signaling.
Eventually, Jennifer lost the tail and pulled into a late night steak house. She headed inside without giving Steve a glance.
He followed, still apprehensive to broach the subject of what happened at the office. “Can we have a seat in the back?” he asked the hostess.
As soon as they were seated, he ordered a drink, despite the disapproving look from Jennifer. When the scotch was delivered, Steve drained half of it in one gulp.
“What are you doing?”
When he set the glass down, his hand was shaking. “Tonight, I’ve been threatened, grilled, shot at, had a gun pressed to my forehead and been forced to snort eight lines of cocaine. I’m having a drink. Back off.” He downed the golden liquid and set the empty glass on the table.
Jennifer locked eyes with Steve and her cheeks flushed with angry heat. She took a deep breath, squashing the irritation prickling her skin. “I saw the gun to your head.”
“I figured it was either that or when he shot the floor in front of me to make his point. You have impeccable timing. You called right after he pressed the barrel to my forehead and I told him to fuck off.”
Her mouth dropped, his statement turning the angry heat building inside her veins to a chill that left her rubbing her forearms. “Jesus.”
Steve allowed a crooked smile. “You may very well have saved my life.” He paused and signaled the waitress for another drink. In the meantime, he picked up his water glass.
“I’m pregnant.”
The glass slid from his hand, bouncing and tipping over, sending ice water all over his lap. Steve shot to his feet, brushing the front of his pants, but his eyes never left Jennifer’s. “You’re pregnant?” The question seemed ludicrous considering, but he couldn’t formulate words to express what he was feeling. Joy and terror mixed in his veins, creating a substance more jolting than the cocaine.
Jennifer nodded. “I bought a pregnancy test on the way home and it came back positive.”
“That’s terrific!”
Jennifer tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “How exactly is that terrific? Huh? You’re working for a psycho drug dealer and I don’t know from day to day whether you’re going to come home alive or not!” She kept her voice low, but her face filled with anguish. “How do we bring a child into this?”
“I’ll be fine, Jen,” Steve said, blotting his pants with a napkin and taking his seat again. “He bought it all. He believes I’m just his lawyer and you’re my girlfriend, which tells me that the bug wasn’t there yesterday morning. Otherwise, you would be a widow right now. He even admitted to bugging the apartment and putting the tail on us.” Steve scanned the restaurant and his eyes found what he was looking for at the bar. “Speak of the devil.” He raised his nearly empty water glass and nodded acknowledgment.
Jennifer turned in her seat, searching the restaurant until her eyes landed on the Hispanic man at the bar. She faced Steve again. “So we don’t have to pretend to not notice him anymore?”
“Nope,” he said and folded his wet napkin on the table. “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared toward the men’s room, circling around to the front of the bar, weaving through the crowd until he stood right behind the man. He stared into the bar’s reflective glass until the man looked away from their table, glancing into the mirror as he took a sip of his drink. The man’s eyes went wide and he swiveled in the chair.
“Charlie told me I had a tail. I’m surprised you found us with the way she drives.” Steve tilted his chin in Jennifer’s direction without breaking eye contact with the man. “The name’s Steve.” He put his hand out.
The man lowered his eyes to Steve’s hand and slowly accepted the handshake. “Emanuel. Manny for short.”
His accent, a mixture of Hispanic and Brooklyn, made Steve smile. “Well, Manny, I assume you’re the one that was listening as well,” he said, receiving a nod in response. “Would you like to have dinner with us?” He hooked his thumb towar
d the table.
Manny’s jaw dropped.
His reaction amused Steve, and a satisfied grin surfaced. “We both work for Charlie and obviously we are going to run into each other a lot, especially if you’re my shadow, so I figured we’d just cut to the chase.”
Manny briefly smiled. “I’ll pass. Your girlfriend scares me.”
“Yeah, well, she scares the hell out of me, too,” he said and turned to go. “Nice meeting you, Manny.”
“Same here,” Manny nodded acknowledgement.
“What’d you just do?” Jennifer asked as Steve slid in the seat across from her with the same grin on his face.
“I just introduced myself to our shadow.”
Jennifer glanced over her shoulder and Manny raised his glass in their direction.
“He turned my dinner invitation down, though.”
“I swear, Steve; you’re out of your fucking mind.”
He flashed his most sincere smile and leaned forward, taking her hands in his. “Jen, I love you and I promise I will come home to you every night.”
“Promise?”
Steve nodded. “I promise.”
“And you never make a promise you can’t keep.” Jennifer finally let the smile surface.
“Exactly.” Steve leaned over the table and kissed her cheek. “I’m going to be a father!” he announced to the tables within earshot. Congratulations were mumbled and when their meal arrived, they ate in subdued euphoria.
Chapter 13
Charlie walked into his apartment with a bag of Chinese take-out and settled on his couch, opening the white container and digging in while staring at the drivel on television. Hours ago, he traded his cocaine high for a light alcohol buzz and some meaningless conversation with Steve while his rush leveled off.
He assured the kid that it wasn’t enough to kill him, but he also didn’t want Steve to go into cardiac arrest from the immense jolt eight lines of almost pure cocaine could cause. Feeding him glass after glass of scotch, the alcohol counteracted that rush with each drink downed.
