by Rita Ewing
Kelly thought about the burly redheaded man who had approached her on three separate occasions over the past month. What was his name? Rock, Stone. Mr. Stone, that was it. He seemed to know an awful lot about the Flyers, Steve, and her. He’d done some research.
Spotting her purse on the desk in the kitchen, Kelly sat down and snatched it up. She remembered exactly where she’d put his business card—in a tiny compartment in her Louis Vuitton wallet. Finding the card, Kelly pulled it out. She’d even done some research of her own on the redhead’s boss. Not that she had to delve too far. Leonard Hightower was on a different magazine cover every other week. She had discovered enough to realize that he was a real player.
Kelly dialed the number on the card, which read “Hightower Enterprises.” Mr. Stone was the man she was looking for. He had told her that the two of them could enter into a mutually beneficial arrangement. Mr. Stone had told her to feel free to call when she was ready—the sooner the better, though, because the
clock was ticking. She was ready now. Steve had left her no choice.
“Hightower Enterprises,” the receptionist on the phone said into Kelly’s ear.
“Mr. Stone, please.”
Two can play at this game, Steve, but I’m better than you at it. I always have been.
Chapter 20
“Where the hell could he be? Casey asked, irritated as she clicked her cellular phone shut.
“Who?” Remy asked, peering at her image in the passenger-side overhead mirror. She puckered her lips and skillfully reapplied a layer of metallic Chanel lip gloss.
“My husband, that’s who.” Casey turned the volume down on the car radio and turned around to reach for her purse. She yanked it up from the floor behind the driver’s seat and fished around inside her bag looking for her compact mirror. “I swear, Remy, sometimes I think Brent has the hotel put a ‘Do not disturb’ on his phone just to irritate me. He knows I hate that shit. It’s not like we haven’t talked about it before either.”
Casey became more agitated with each passing second. “I’m his wife, damn it! I shouldn’t have to listen to some hotel operator tell me my husband doesn’t wish to be disturbed. I’ve asked him to at least leave my name with them so that my calls could go through, and thisis what I get? For all I know, he could have some woman in his room,” Casey said, swearing under her breath as she noticed a crack in her new purse-sized mirror.
“Damn, I just bought this thing,” she said, disgusted.
Casey pushed the automatic button on the door panel, lowered the driver’s-side window on her blue Jaguar, and tossed the compact out into the parking lot.
“Casey! Girl, stop tripping,” Remy said, looking over at her friend. She squinted her eyes in the harsh glare from the rearview mirror light. “You know Brent isn’t doing anything he shouldn’t be doing. They have a game tomorrow night and he probably just didn’t want people calling his room, disturbing him all night. You know how the fans and groupies are.”
Remy placed her hand near one ear and pretended to have a phone conversation. “Hi, Brent Rogers, please. This is Babycakes, your number one fan. I’m down in the lobby and just wanted to know if I could come up to your room for an autograph or something.”
Remy smiled as Casey started to giggle. “Come on, Casey. You know they’ve got to be bugging the hell out of the guys. It’s the play-offs; what do you expect?”
“I know, but I still have a problem trusting him. His daughter, Nikki, is the result of your Miss Babycakes—a one-night stand with some groupie ho.”
“And a very fertile one, I might add,” Remy said, laughing.
“That shit is not funny, Remy,” Casey said, irritated by her best friend’s sense of humor. At the moment, Casey could not find anything funny about her husband and his three-year-old daughter.
“Besides, I don’t think Brent would ever be that stupid again. Anyway, he probably has the ‘Do not disturb’ on because he’s mad at me,” Casey explained.
“Mad at you for what?” Remy asked. “Not about Nikki?” she said with disbelief.
When Casey had told Remy about Brent’s undercover visits with his daughter, Remy, in true best-friend fashion, had reacted just as angrily as if it had been her own man being deceitful.
“He’s upset because I won’t let him walk away with an ‘I’m sorry Imade a mistake’ type of explanation. I expect more from him and I let him know that. I don’t know how he expects me to ever be able to trust him again when he keeps trying to hide things from me. It’s a damn shame that I had to find out about him seeing Nikki from someone like Alexis, of all people.”
Casey knew in her heart that from her husband’s point of view, he was trying his best to make amends with her and keep their marriage intact. But she could not stop herself from continuing to blame him for his past mistakes, especially since he had just lied to her about having been in contact with his daughter all this time. Casey believed that with time she could probably forgive her husband for his infidelity, but she would never be able to put aside all of the lies and deceit.
“That’s messed up. Alexis definitely didn’t need to be in on that. She has enough fuel for her fire as it is,” Remy responded. “Brent has a lot of nerve being angry with you because you’re upset about all this stuff with Nikki. But you know how that goes too; you set the offense, he jumped on the defense. Men never seem to know when to humble themselves and just say, ‘Baby, you’re right. I’m sorry.’ They like to turn stuff around and make themselves the victim time and time again. But you know what I’ve got to say about that?” Remy said with a smile.
“What?”
“Fuck ‘em and feed ‘em beans,” Remy said, cracking up.
Casey joined in her friend’s laughter and said, “Yeah, unless it’s Collin we’re talking about.”
Casey immediately regretted her comment as she noticed a pained expression cast a fleeting shadow across her friend’s face.
“Remy, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“Humph,” Remy said, cutting her off, “I’m not worrying about any Collin tonight. He’s blown me off far too many times recently. Plus, they’re in Miami tonight anyway. You know what they say about that, don’t you?” Remy said as she playfully shoved her friend with her elbow.
“When the cat’s away, the mice will play!” they both yelled in unison.
“Come on, girl,” Casey said, pulling on her coat. “The party’s inside and that’s where we need to be.”
“Let’s go,” Remy sang out as she swung open the car door. “I’m ready to party!”
“Good, me too. I’m glad you left your bodyguard at home tonight. We can have some real fun,” Casey said, eyes gleaming. “Plus, Donnie will make sure the club’s security guys watch over us.”
Casey had known Donnie since she was five years old, having grown up with him in McClean, Virginia. They had been childhood friends, and now that he was one of New York’s hottest club promoters, Casey always had access to the city’s prime parties and underground happenings.
“He owns this place, right?” Remy questioned as they walked up to the club’s entrance.
“Yep, and it’s one of the hottest spots lately. He’s really turned this place around,” Casey said.
“Donnie and his fine self,” Remy said, laughing. “What’s he been up to lately besides running this place?” Remy asked.
“This keeps him pretty busy,” Casey said as they peered at the club’s drab exterior, a trend of most New York hot spots.
There was a long line of people in front of Show, hoping to get admitted into the club. Casey and Remy quickly walked to the front of the line where they were greeted by the club’s tall, muscular bouncer.
“How’re my favorite ladies tonight?” the bouncer yelled at them as they approached him.
“Hey, Bobby,” Casey said as she reached up to hug him.
“Hi, Bobby, long time no see,” Remy said. Bobby used to work as a security guard at the studio where she film
ed most of her videos.
“If it ain’t Casey and Remy together, in the flesh. Where’re Brent and Collin? They must be on the road to let two fine-ass women like yourselves out alone,” Bobby said, chuckling.
“We’re solo tonight, just trying to get our groove on,” Casey said with twinkling eyes and a devilish smile.
“Besides,” Remy chimed in, “they’re in Miami and there’s no telling what they’re up to right now.”
“I’m sure they’re getting themselves right for the next game and they don’t need to be worrying about you ladies, so I’m gonna keep my eyes on you two tonight.”
Bobby led them through the club’s entryway and past the table where the young woman sat collecting money for the club’s twenty-dollar cover charge.
“Thanks, Bobby, we’ll see you later,” Casey said as they reached the coat-check area.
“You two are straight?” Bobby said, hesitating by their sides.
“We’ll be just fine,” Remy reassured him quickly.
“Okay, holler at me if you need anything,” Bobby said, winking at them as they walked away.
“Just what we don’t need, a self-appointed bodyguard to scare all the fine guys away,” Casey said, laughing.
Casey checked both their coats and straightened out her D&G tight black fitted slacks. She unbuttoned her tan sweater so that her navel barely peeked out over the top of her pants and looked over at her friend. Remy was wearing a chocolate brown chic Versace jumpsuit. Placing one hand on her high, slim hip, she walked past Casey, only to quickly stop and strike a pose only a professional model could have emulated on the catwalk.
“Remy, what do you think? Would Alexis approve of our outfits tonight?” Both women started laughing as Casey grabbed Remy by her elbow. “Let’s get out of this hallway before someone besides Miss Coat-check sees us.”
As they walked out into the club’s open atrium, Casey noticed people pointing and whispering at Remy. She knew how uncomfortable her friend could get when she was not onstage and people were watching her.
“Remy, I think the locals are getting a bit starstruck. Let’s go downstairs to the VIP area. Donnie’s probably down there anyway,” Casey said, taking the lead.
“Good idea, I’m right behind you,” Remy answered as she followed her friend down a narrow, curving stairway.
They entered a large, dark room where the music was loud and people stood around in clumps, holding drinks in one hand and cigarettes or cigars in the other. A huge Gothic bar lined one entire wall while plush couches and cocktail tables lined the other side.
Both the men and women who came to party and enjoy themselves were dressed to kill. People were drinking, talking, dancing, and laughing—the epitome of New York’s nightclub scene. Sexual innuendo was in the air, and Casey and Remy were ready to partake of the night’s festivities.
“Casey, isn’t that the model Tyson over there by the bar?” Remy asked her friend, eyeing the tall, dark, and extremely handsome man across the room.
“Yeah, you should go ask him to be in your next video,” Casey said, laughing. “He is fine, though. I wouldn’t mind being in a video with him, and I don’t mean a music video.”
“You’re crazy, Casey. Brent looks just as good if not better than Tyson. Tape your little stank videos at home.” Remy was still laughing as Tyson caught her eye and acknowledged her with a familiar wave.
“Hey, there’s Donnie,” Casey said, waving at her friend. Donnie was sitting in a velvet-lined booth with three other guys.
All of them were staring at the two gorgeous women as they made their way across the dance floor. On their way, Casey and Remy passed the Hilton sisters and Ashton Kutcher. Even with all of the celebrities there, Casey and Remy stood out and seemed oblivious as they radiated their own personal limelight.
“Tonight is a hot night,” Remy said, as she glanced around the room.
“I know and it’s going to get better. Look who’s sitting with Donnie—Mr. Fine himself,” Casey muttered under her breath.
“What’s up, ladies?” Donnie exclaimed as he jumped up out of the booth and reached out to hug Casey. “It’s about time you came out to play,” he added with a mischievous grin.
“Donnie! It’s good to see you. You remember Remy?” Casey asked as she stepped aside.
“How could a guy ever forget Remy?” Donnie responded as he took a step toward Remy. He looked her up and down, smiled, and shook his head. He reached for her hands and raised them both to his full lips. He softly kissed each hand and stepped back, glowing.
“Whew, Donnie, you sure know how to make a lady swoon,” Remy said with a gracious smile.
Casey knew immediately as she watched her two friends that thechemistry between them was good. She was well aware of Remy’s penchant for good-looking men, and Donnie could easily hang with the best of them in the looks department. He was about six feet three inches tall and built like a triathlete. He was a handsome brown-skinned brother with a Colgate smile and perfect cleft chin. His naturally wavy hair made him a prime candidate for the S Curl man, but it was his smooth, charismatic personality that made all the ladies fall for Donnie.
Work it, Donnie, Casey thought. Besides, Remy could use some male attention.
Over the years, Casey had become accustomed to the defensive shield Remy wielded to protect herself from her emotions. On occasion, whenever her armor was pierced, Remy would shut down and pretend to not have a care in the world. Casey knew that Remy was hurting inside right now, but like many celebrities, she had perfected her use of the shield and had it down to an art. Still, Casey was close enough to her friend to know that Remy could still be hurt by those she cared about, and right now, Collin DuMott was wreaking havoc with her friend’s emotions.
Go ‘head Donnie, Casey mused to herself. Make my girl smile.
“You ladies remember my partner, Mark, don’t you?” Donnie asked, pointing at his business associate who was seated at the table. “And these two fellas here you may already know—Gregory Patrick and Kenny Young.”
Casey and Remy greeted everyone at the table and sat down as each guy eagerly scooted over to make room for the women. Casey wondered if Remy recognized Gregory Patrick and Kenny Young. They were both starters for the New Jersey Nets basketball team. Gregory Patrick was known throughout the NBA as the finest player in the league, and Casey could easily see why. She was struck by how handsome he was. He could easily have been described as beautiful if one used the term loosely enough.
Gregory Patrick stood a full six feet six inches and was used to hovering over people. He was built, Casey thought, like a brick house. His honey-roasted skin was smooth as a baby’s behind, and he had deep, penetrating eyes that were a dark, rich Hershey brown. His hands wereenormous, and Casey smiled as she found herself wondering about his shoe size.
“I’m going to order another round of drinks. What are you two ladies drinking tonight?” Donnie asked, signaling one of the chic cocktail waitresses.
“Only the finest for the finest. Ladies, may I?” Kenny Young asked. “Let’s get a bottle of Cristal and some chilled glasses for starters. How does that sound to you, Remy?” Kenny said, directing his full attention toward Remy, who was seated across the table from him.
“That’s fine with me, thank you,” Remy said as she tapped Donnie on his arm to ask him a question.
Champagne was perfect for Casey since she wasn’t much of a drinker. She always had a problem holding it—a few sips was enough to get her blitzed, and with the confusion she was already feeling, getting a bit tipsy didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
“So, Casey Rogers, what brings you out tonight? Shouldn’t you be down in Miami helping your husband get ready for tomorrow’s game against the Heat?” Gregory asked with a soft, seductive smile.
“Come on, Greg. You know Coach Mitchell doesn’t allow wives on the road with his team. We’re too much of a distraction, or so we’ve been told,” Casey responded, unable to stop herself from s
taring at Gregory Patrick’s handsome profile.
“Shoot, if you were my woman, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight.” Gregory looked at Casey as he spoke and she had to stop herself from letting her mouth drop open.
“Hmm, seems like I’ve heard that before somewhere,” said Casey. She felt a soft nudge under the table and hid a smile as Remy tried to get her attention.
“Me too,” chimed in Kenny Young. “Remy, if you were mine, you could forget about all that singing stuff. I’d have you up under me everywhere I went.” He laughed out loud, obviously not realizing how obnoxious he sounded.
“That’s … sweet of you, Kenny, but singing is my life and I wouldn’t give it up for anyone, not even you,” Remy said.
“Yeah, you say that now,” Kenny said smugly. “I’d have you so turned out, the only thing you’d be singing would be my name whenwe were doing the do. ‘Oh, Kenny, oh, Kenny, oh, oh, oh!’ “ He sang out as people began to stare at their table.
“Chill out, man, we’ve got ladies with us,” Donnie interjected with a look of distaste plastered across his face.
“Yeah, relax, man. Remy’s out of your league anyway.” Gregory laughed.
Remy was quiet as she sat there looking obviously disgusted with Kenny.
“Whatever, she’s practically married to that ‘pretty boy DuMott’ anyway, huh?” Kenny asked, looking at Remy.
Remy turned her head away as he stood up and put on his coat.
“Enjoy the champagne, ladies. I’ve gotta go.” Kenny turned to his teammate and said, “You staying, man?”
“Yep,” Gregory said, still looking at Casey. “I think I’ll be here for a while.”
“Peace out, everyone. Remy, if you ever want a real man when the Flyers move to Albany, call me.” Kenny waved one hand high over his head and walked away.
“Would you guys excuse us for a moment? Remy, let’s go to the ladies’ room for a second. I need to freshen up.” Casey stood up and waited for her friend to follow suit. She saw Donnie and Mark both lean in toward Gregory Patrick, probably to ask him what he knows about the Flyers moving to Albany, thought Casey.
