by Amber Heart
"Yet you're still here. I fucked some hookers in an old building. It was great! You took care of everything. No one found out or got any evidence to use in the papers. Why do you have to bitch so much?"
"You really have a way with words don't you? It never stops amazing me how anyone can say so many stupid, selfish things, and still manage to drop the panties of every woman he propositions."
"Well, not absolutely every woman," he said, raising his eyebrows and then quickly dropping them back down. It was a suggestive gesture that did not go unnoticed.
"And you're not going to have your way with me, not while I'm still under the employment of your mother and father."
"Please, don't act like Mom and Dad are still around to judge us. You might be in a better mood if you just loosen up a bit, and show me how that sweet, sweet—"
"That's quite enough, thank you!" Felicia put her hand up like a brick wall, final. "You're not going to start talking like that to me, not with any regularity. If you'd like to keep yourself from going broke, and more likely, ending up in prison, you can show me some god damned respect. Stop acting like a spoilt child who's living on his parent's dollar."
Boyd pouted. "That's what I'm doing, isn't it? You think so; everyone thinks so. Ever since my parents died in that crash …" He thought about faking the water works, but didn't want to further hurt whatever chances he might have to get the older woman naked. And that possibility was always there, as far as Boyd Houston was concerned.
"Anyway, if you're done pretending to give a shit about anyone but yourself, dead or alive, we can move along to the next order of business."
"That being?" He got up and fished around below the counter for a whiskey glass. "If I'm going to sit through another one of your boring sermons, I'm going to need something stiffer than coffee." He grabbed a bottle of exceptionally expensive whiskey from the counter and filled the glass until it was practically overflowing.
"Yes, sure, drink. That's not what got you into this mess in the first place after all," she said.
"Cheers," Boyd said as he pointed the bottom of his glass to the ceiling, easily sinking the entire lot without even pausing.
"Well, at least you have one talent for when you end up on the streets, or in a cell permanently."
"That's not going to happen though, is it?"
"While I'm on your side? There's not a chance. Just don't assume that I'll be here to bail you out forever. At this point I am doing it as much for the huge paycheck I get from your trust account, as I am for you. You really should thank your mother for making me promise to keep you from getting into trouble."
"Oh, but I get into more trouble than anyone."
"Yes, but what doesn't make it in front of the courts does not actually happen. I'll be in touch." She left the kitchen quickly. Boyd loved to watch her leave, her hips swaying briskly in the power suit and skirt.
Chapter Five
Opal did not sleep at Dwayne's condo that night. In fact, she barely remained there more than a minute after his comment about her not needing a job any more. The moment she'd gotten home, and punched a pillow a few times while yelling obscenities, she did the only thing that she could think to do in a situation like that: Opal called Vanessa, her mother.
"You know, that's the kind of thing that was expected when I was your age," her mother said.
"Yeah Mom, but you know …"
"Yes, I do. Things are different now. But Dwayne's a fairly traditional sort of guy. He probably just wants to take care of you and raise a family. And I am absolutely in agreement with having some grandchildren as soon as possible.
"Well, with the sexual appetite your future son in law has, you might want to get ready for some more waiting."
"Oh, honey, that's probably more than I need to know about my future son in law. You just make up, okay? He's a good guy and he's got plenty of money to go with that. You can't ruin a great relationship because you're getting bored in the bedroom. You'll find a way to liven things up."
"It takes two people to do that though … Oh, sorry Mom, I have someone on the other line."
"Maybe that's your boss calling to say it was all a big mistake."
"I wish I could have your optimism. I'll talk to you soon, okay? Love you, bye." Opal hung up that call and answered the incoming message.
"Hello?" she said.
"Hey, it's Judith. How have you been?"
"Oh, you know, crappy." Once Alfred was done talking to her that day, casually laying out her future on the table before her, and proceeding to stomp all over it, he'd gotten an important call from an overseas client. Opal had been told to pack her things, while the security guard watched over her to make sure she didn't take anything. That had been humiliating, but the slowly building shame had gotten to a point where it had become overshadowed by a hulking rage. She was doing her best to stifle it, enjoying talking to people who didn't think she was a criminal, or a crazy fiancée.
"My Mom was hoping this was Alfred, telling me that it's all fine and I can come back to work. So positive after everything." Opal found her back up bottle of wine at the back of a cupboard, and started to pour herself a large glass.
"Well, that would fix everything. And your mom's a damn tough lady. You or me would have fallen apart dealing with so many medical problems. Be nice to her."
"I am. I don't know if I'd even want to go back to work now anyway, not after the way I was dropped like a sack of dirt."
"I get what you mean, but you wouldn't be able to work without me," said Judith.
"No, but it looks like I don't have any choice either way." They were both silent for a while, an uncomfortable silence that wasn't usual among the two women. "What's wrong?"
Judith sighed. "It's just, I found some printed pages when I was emptying the shredder."
"I don't know why they have interns at that place, if they've got my head illustrator doing busy work."
"Well, it was full, I needed to shred some client documents for this damn chicken job. Anyway, these pages, partial pieces of documents anyway: they look like they're from printouts of our accounts."
"Oh—my-God. Did you call the FBI? I wonder if Mulder and Skully still do house calls."
"Come on, Opal. If you weren't so jaded, you'd realize no one else should have access to those pages. They sure as hell shouldn't be putting them on hard copy and just shredding them in the printing room." Judith sounded serious, not just in a polite and cautious way like she often was when discussing business.
"I haven't seen Alfred in that room in all the years I've been working at there. Maybe one of interns, or even the cleaner?"
"Did what?" asked Judith. She obviously wanted to lead Opal to a conclusion, but it just wasn't reasonable. "No one should have access to them; that's why there's so much security around it all. If I found this, it means there must be more evidence out there somewhere. This wasn't just some system error. Someone inside the agency did this, someone with access to a lot of information."
Opal spat out the word, "Owen."
"Just because you don't like the guy, it doesn't mean he's a thief. You know how much money he's got, and you said it wasn't even that much that went missing."
"It was only a few thousand. So what? He's a dirt bag, probably did it just to get me fired."
"… You know what? That would make a lot more sense. But why?"
"If I knew, I'd be down at that bastard's house, punching him right in the face."
"Hold up there. Maybe we should try to get some evidence before you go around boxing people."
"It wouldn't even surprise me if him and Alfred cooked this up, just to get me out of the way, so they can take control and outsource all the work to cheaper freelancers. This is bullshit!"
"Calm down!" said Judith sternly. "You've been drinking, haven't you?"
"Just one glass," she said, but Opal had almost finished the bottle while they'd been talking. "Look, Judith, promise me you're not going to snoop into this anymore, o
kay? I've already been fired, but I don't want you getting in trouble trying to help me. Promise?"
"It's going to be hard to just sit here if there might be a way to prove your innocence. Okay, I promise."
"Good. Hey, I'd better call my mom back and see if she's got any more doctor appointments this week. Thanks for the support, you're such a good girl."
"Don't patronize me, Opal. You're not exactly a bad girl yourself." They laughed at themselves and said goodnight.
Chapter Six
"Well, that was bullshit," Boyd said to no one. He was actually hoping that Felicia was still in his penthouse apartment, maybe lurking around and checking up on what he's been doing there. He would have loved to see the look on her face to hear that last comment. It would have fired her up, but naturally the successful lawyer would have acted all cool, as though it didn't bother her. But she wouldn't bother sneaking around, he knew that. If she had something to say or ask, she would just come right out with it.
Damn it, he wished that Felicia would just fuck him and get it over with. He knew she wanted to. That was because all women wanted to get on his dick. He knew it, they knew it. Everyone fucking knew it. Boyd had another drink and the bottle was empty. He threw it hard at the wall and it shattered into thousands of tiny pieces. It made him happy to think about the maid on her hands and knees, cleaning up after him. She'd stopped letting him have sex with her recently; something about getting married or some other bullshit. Whatever the reason was, he made a mental note to get Felicia to hire a new maid, one that was more free about giving it up.
"That stupid maid and her fat ass." That was that, Boyd was going to go out and find some strange to put his dick in. Besides, he was out of the good whiskey. So, he headed out to a bar way on the other side of town. There was no plan in his mind, apart from swapping fluids with the sluttiest, sexiest woman he could find. He just had his driver leave his neighborhood, where there were far too many upstanding, or at least affluent, people. Those weren't the types of people he wanted to find. No, Boyd liked to go after chicks who thought money was out of their reach, and the ones who were willing to do anything in order to get their hands on some.
"Poor bitches love rich dick," he said to the driver as they went by a bar called "Hot Sticks." The sign was painted in black with neon red lights to accent it. The whole front of the building was either black, or had artsy illustrations that suggested people having sex, without actually depicted the acts directly.
"This looks like just the kind of place you like, sir," said the driver.
"You know me too well, Jimmie." Say, why don't you go get yourself some lunch while I try to land a tasty treat for myself, or maybe two or three" He laughed jovially. It always put him in a great mood to be out looking for another set of wet holes to stick his dick in. Jimmie was a good sport about things too, never complaining or reporting any of the lude shit that went down in the limo. He handed Jimmie a bunch of money, saying, "Get yourself something nice, hey?" and then got out of the limo.
Boyd was wearing a black suit, which he figured would probably pass for trendy in a place like that. It must have been the sort of joint all the wannabe intellectuals from the ghetto went to. They would get their asses kicked at the real bars or clubs, so the probably congregated there. As he went inside, his guess was more or less confirmed. The crowd was an array of posers, deadbeats, and generally people with too much metal and ink in their skin.
The women looked great though, apart from the incredibly grotesque ones that Boyd wouldn't fuck with someone else's dick. There was a large woman—he thought it was a female anyway—sitting near the door at the bar. Boyd went in and walked up to order a drink.
"Hey there," said the woman. Yes, it was a woman after all. "You looking for someone to love you?"
"I'm looking for a good fuck, but I think I'd rather go for something a little, fresher." He made a disgusted face as the bartender approached.
"Isn't everyone?" said the woman who was tending bar. "How about a drink on me?" She grabbed an unlabeled bottle of clear liquid from behind the bar and poured it into a big shot glass. "This'll get you going."
"Thanks," said Boyd. As he smelled the stuff, he noticed that the bartender was smoking hot. She had a tight, almost petite body. Her breasts were nice though, even though they couldn't have been any bigger than B-cups. She was gorgeous, and dolled up like a stripper on Halloween. All black clothing, tattoos of skulls and the like, and a pierced septum. She looked at him with fuck-me eyes, and he could tell she definitely partook in some sort of illegal, recreational substances.
Boyd downed the shot without any more hesitation. He was looking to impress and get this slut into his bed. All women were sluts, as far as he figured. A lot of them just weren't worth thinking of that way, so he mostly ignored them. Like the sweaty, fat one sitting near him. She was taking in this whole interaction as though she was a part of it.
"You city boys like to come out here and slum it. What, were you afraid to go to one of the normie places? They'd probably kick the shit out of you, rich boy," she said without giving Boyd a chance to respond before she'd finished saying her piece.
"Sorry, sir, I don't swing that way. Is this bitch a friend of yours?" he said to the hot goth behind the bar.
"Fuck no. Trish, I told you to stop messing with every customer who comes in. Here, have a beer and please go bother someone else." Trish took the beer and slowly walked to another part of the poorly lit bar.
"You wanna fuck or what?" Boyd said to the bartender.
"My shift is over in an hour. Maybe you'll be worth my time. You got any pills or something?"
"I'll have some by the time you're off, then you can get me off in my limo."
Chapter Seven
Dwayne showed up at Opal's door the next day. He had a big bunch of roses and a card with a generic poem, which was in there when he bought it. "At least you signed your name yourself," Opal said after she skimmed over the cheesy poem.
"That's how I really feel about you, dear. You have to know that. I'm sorry if you think I'm boring, or that our relationship isn't enough for you. Please, give me a chance to make things up to you."
"That's it, Dwayne, you didn't really do anything wrong. You don't have to make it up to me. I just wish I could get you to understand, y'know?"
"I know what? If I didn't do anything wrong, what's the problem? Can I come inside?" They went into Opal's living area and sat on her sofa. Dwayne always had a hard time getting comfortable on it, since he was used to placing his well-to-do butt on something much more expensive. Maybe it was just that he didn't like being at her place at all. The building was quite nice, by most people's standards. It wasn't too far away from the city, and even in a quiet, safe area. Still, it wasn't as good as what Dwayne had been used to his whole life.
"Why do you think I need to change?" he finally asked her after shifting about for some time on the sofa.
"Are you uncomfortable?"
"No, it's fine. I just don't know why you chose this particular sofa. It's not exactly great."
Opal sighed. "See, you are uncomfortable. If you have a problem with something, why don't you just say so? I know you're a nice guy, and I love that about you." She took his hands and looked into his big, caring eyes. "Sometimes a woman just needs a guy to be more controlling and take what he needs. You can appreciate that, right?"
"Of course. But if you wanted that sort of guy, why the hell did you end up with me? I'm not going to start acting like a jerk just because you're bored with our sex life."
"I love our sex life, I really do. You're more than adequate, you know, down there." She motioned toward Dwayne's crotch with her eyes and smiled. Wishing that they'd ended up having sex the previous night instead of starting this whole stupid argument, Opal considered giving it another go. This time, however, she would be less random about her approach.
"Do you really want to take care of me while I live a life of luxury?" she asked.
"Tha
t's what I want for you. You don't have to put up with that boss of yours, or do anything you don't enjoy. I think it's a nice thing. Besides, if you want a guy who's in control, why did the idea of being a house wife upset you so much?"
"I don't want someone to dictate my whole life for me, sweetie. But there are certain times when I need you to tell me what to do. It's fun to roleplay, after all."
"I'm glad you're not mad about losing your job any more then."
"Oh, I didn't tell you—I think I might have some evidence that someone else at the agency was messing with my accounts. They were at least looking at it"
"Alfred printed them out so he could show you, to be fair and transparent."
"What? I didn't tell you that. Have you been talking to Owen or something?"
"No, I mean, well I did speak to him yesterday while you were outside." He sat up straight and looked ahead, not making eye contact.
"You talked about that? You're lying. I can tell when you lie because your eye twitches. Like it is now, there." She leaned over and pointed at Dwayne's minutely twitching eye. "If you know anything and you're hiding it, I will fucking leave you, I swear."
"Okay, okay, Owen knew about a problem with money missing from some accounts weeks ago. He was talking about it anyway, I overheard him while he was on a call. So, what does it matter?"
"Those accounts weren't even funded then. What the hell?! You have to talk to him and find out what's going on."
"I can't," was all Dwayne said to that.
"You what?" Opal stood up and started to pace around on the carpet in front of the sofa. "You don't want to upset your little buddy, Owen, is that right? Shit, Dwayne!"
"Please stop using such trashy language. And no, I don't think it's worth making any more trouble. You said that you want to be a homemaker anyway, so I didn't think it would matter what the circumstances were when you left your job, dear."
"Except I didn't leave my job, dear. They fired me for something I had nothing to do with. Now I find out Owen knew about what was going to happen before it could have possibly happened? Oh no, he's going down. You can either help me, or you can get the hell out of my apartment. I know how much you hate being here anyway."
