by Lexy Timms
Oakland Walker could be a vindictive sonofabitch. It might be something to do with the time he spent in prison. Or his checkered criminal past with the Tucson branch of the Spawn before he came to Connecticut. Hell, maybe he was just made that way.
Saks took a sip of his beer, mindful of the eyes of the three men on him.
“So,” Spider said. “Tell us about it.”
“A state trooper pulled me over on that stretch that runs through the reservoir.”
“The one marked forty miles per hour?” Luke said. They had all driven that road often enough, since it was the only direct route to the Red Bull.
“Yeah.”
“And you were going...” Oakie said, in his gravelly voice.
“The cop said fifty-five.”
“Damn it!” Oakie exploded. He, along with all the Spawn, was aware of the speed trap and the posted speed limit on that stretch of road. The Spawn's president slapped his hand on the counter, making all the beer glasses jump and slosh their liquids.
“It’s bullshit,” Saks said.
“Is that your defense?” Oakie growled. “I told you. I told all you bastards. Keep your shit clean on the road. They’re looking for reasons to put any of us away!”
“Easy, Oakie,” Luke said in a warning voice. The rift between Oakie and Luke hadn’t entirely healed from when Oakie stripped him of his colors. And even though Luke accepted the position as Sergeant-at-Arms last Christmas, he didn’t mind going against Oakie when he felt he should. Luke glanced at Saks. “What did Matt say?”
“That he’d work on it. He’s pretty sure the charges will be dismissed.”
“There, Oakie,” Luke said. “A little pushback isn’t a bad thing. It’ll teach them not to harass us. Because that’s clearly what this is, isn’t it, Saks?”
“I was speeding—” Why’d he take satisfaction in pissing Oakie off? He knew better.
“There,” Oakie spit.
“But only to pass a cage going too slowly on the road.”
“Idiot. Obviously, the driver of that cage spotted something you didn’t,” Oakie snapped.
Saks hadn’t considered that. But, again, if he didn’t have his head so far up his butt, he might have noticed other signs that signaled that a speed trap was in place. Better to admit stupidity than fight like a dumb-ass. “You’re right, Oakie. I wasn’t watching the road like I should.”
Oakie muttered something inaudible into his beer.
“We all,” Spider said, “get distracted sometimes. You got your ass arrested for it. Now you’ll have to be extra careful until these charges are cleared. And the rest of the club will have to, too. One thing we do not want is the Staties putting bullseyes on our backs.”
“You’re right, Spider,” Saks said. “I’m sorry for the trouble I caused.” This last apology nearly stuck in his throat as he spoke it. But he’d made his oath to the Spawn, which bound him to this group. The misdeeds of one stuck to the rest of the group. Something of which Oakie was well-aware. Even though he was cleared of all the crimes that sent him to prison, the stink still clung to him and the rest of the club. This made Saks’ current trouble, a piss in the ocean for anyone else, a big deal. It was going to take a long time before the Spawn shook off that foul odor.
“Okay,” Oakie said, pushing away his half-finished beer. “Keep your shit clean until this is cleared up. Otherwise, I doubt even Matt Stone can make this go away.”
“You got it, Oakie.”
Oakie and Spider said their goodbyes, the door slamming behind them, and left Saks alone with Luke.
Saks drank his beer, aware of Luke eyeing him. His boss looked like he was holding something back and Saks spotted mirth in Luke’s eyes. “You got something to say?”
“You, Saks, speeding?”
“You mean the Boy Scout of bikers?”
Luke shrugged.
“Happens,” Saks said. “I was trying to get back to work on time, and that’s what caused the problem.”
Luke’s eyes crinkled, and then his face registered concern. “You’ve been off your game, buddy.”
“Yeah,” Saks admitted with a sigh.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Fine.” Luke looked around the clubhouse. “Rob’s coming in this afternoon for a few hours. Show him around.”
“And where are you going to be?”
“There are some bikes I want to look at. So, you’ll be closing the shop, Mr. Manager.”
“Sure you can trust me?” Saks couldn’t believe Luke wasn’t going to drill him or give him shit. Just showed how much of a stand-up guy he was.
Luke shrugged. “Saks, it was one ticket. This is a small blip in the legal troubles of the club. If you play it right, Matt might be able to get the fine reduced like you said, or get the charge thrown out. You weren’t drinking and driving. You were being half an ass, but there’s a lot worse shit out there than passing someone on the road.”
“If it was only a speeding ticket, I'd pay it. It's the resisting charge that’s bullshit. However, it won’t be thrown out, I'm sure.”
“Let Matt do his shit. It’ll cost you, but luckily you just got a raise.” Luke tossed his coffee cup into the trashcan. “Drink up. I'll take you to your bike.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Okay, spill it,” Jessica demanded as she set a latte and a croissant on Chrissy’s desk. When Chrissy returned from lunch the day before, she was called into a meeting lasting all afternoon. Though Jessica waited for her, Chrissy had to run out the door to make the train back to Connecticut. So her assistant must have seethed all night, wondering about the results of Chrissy’s lunch with James Pearson.
“Spill what?” Chrissy said innocently.
“Don’t play with me, Christina Serafina,” Jessica said with a scowl. “What career opportunities did you dig up for us?”
“Really, you must stop riding my coattails,” Chrissy said evilly before she took a sip of her coffee.
“Me? If it wasn’t for me, you couldn’t keep your schedule straight or on task for your many projects.”
“All, sadly true. You did end up making me look better than I am. So much so that a rich industrialist offered me a salary of half a million dollars a year to do for him what you do for me.”
Jessica’s eyes immediately widened. “What?”
“Yup. But I turned him down.”
“WHAT?”
“Keep your voice down. People will think I’m beating you again.”
“Not that I don’t enjoy a good whipping, but are you freaking out of your mind?”
“How’s that?” Chrissy said casually. She flipped open a presentation book to scan the latest company promotional materials created by their advertising company.
“A half million? You could take me on as a personal assistant for a hundred thou a year, and I wouldn’t complain.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t. But have you considered the tax ramifications of earning that kind of money? After federal and state withholdings, I’ll take home only half of that, and then if I pay you I’ll be left with a measly $150,000 a year. That’s only double my salary now, so it hardly seems worth the trouble of world-travel at the drop of hat, spending hours in meetings with the most powerful people in the world, and eating on the company dime at the most glamorous restaurants in the world with one very handsome and indescribably rich man. It really seems quite exhausting.”
Jessica crossed her arms across her thin cardigan sweater and glared at Chrissy. “I don’t appreciate you yanking my chain,” she said. “I’d kill for a job like that and you’re making a joke about it?”
“Trust me. I'm doing this for your own good,” Chrissy said with a sly grin.
“My own good? Girl, I’m calling up some New York psychiatrists and getting you an appointment with one of them for today. How can you pass up an opportunity like that? What are you thinking?”
Chrissy had thought about it, all night in fact. The
job would be everything that James Pearson said and she might be tempted if she liked, merely liked, the guy. But she didn’t. She’d spent all her life around predators like him. Her experience told her a man like James Pearson was likely to use her up and spit her out when he was done with her.
There had to be a reason why no one assistant lasted longer than five years, and she suspected a number lasted less than that. A man with many businesses and the pressures that went with them had to be exceptionally demanding. And, as she saw at lunch, he was tactless and thoughtless with his words. She imagined him taking out the worst part of his days on her, simply because she was there.
Chrissy did not need or want to be the babysitter for a forty-something billionaire. “You can do that, but sadly you’ll find out that I’m quite sane in this matter.”
Jessica huffed. “I’m not sure about that.”
“Don’t you have some calls to make to some nice mental health professionals?”
Jessica stuck her tongue out and flounced out of her office. Chrissy shook her head. Her assistant was a nice girl from a good family. She had no idea what a man like James Pearson would do to a minion. And half mil a year or not, Chrissy would most definitely be a minion.
Her office phone rang from Jessica’s extension.
“Mr. Grayson is on line one for you,” Jessica said stiffly.
“Thank you, Jessica.”
What now? After that disaster of an interview, she was sure that Charles wouldn’t be calling her again. How could Pearson not tell him how carelessly she had treated his client?
“Chrissy,” Charles said enthusiastically. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m fine,” she said cautiously.
“Wonderful, wonderful. I’ve got to tell you that you impressed Mr. Pearson very much. Very much indeed. He asked when you'd be able to start.”
“You can’t be serious,” she said. “He also told you that I said I wasn’t interested, right?”
“Of course he did. Very clever bargaining ploy. He’s authorized me to offer you a salary of $650,0000. Who am I kidding? He’s going $750,000, tops. I’ll just tell him you drove a hard bargain.”
“Charles, get those ridiculous dollar signs out of your eyes. I really don’t want to work with the man.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course you do. Holding out isn’t going to get you more cash. But I might be able to get you a private jet.”
“Charles!” Chrissy protested.
“Yes. A private jet is an extremely good idea.”
“For whom? You? Charles, what will it take for me to get through to you? I don’t want this job.”
“Think about it over the weekend. After your present bosses give you their ridiculously weak offer, call me.”
Charles clicked off, and Chrissy dropped the handset into its cradle none too gently. Of course, the headhunter saw dollar signs. The commission on a $750,000 job would be hefty amount of money. And it wasn’t surprising that he, like James Pearson, wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
Her line rang again. “Your mother’s on line one for you.”
Chrissy sighed and clicked on the call. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”
“Well. I’m just reminding you of that little party you’re supposed to go to tomorrow night to meet the Rocco man.”
“I haven’t forgotten, Mom.”
“Good. Because it’s a point of family honor that you show, remember that.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake, Chrissy thought. “Don’t worry, Mom. Honor will be satisfied.”
“Do you have something to wear? Feminine, not like your work clothes?”
Chrissy banged her head on her desk several times before she answered.
SATURDAY MORNING BLAZED bright through her bedroom window. Chrissy woke with a sense of anticipation wrapped around her. She drew her knees to her chest, excitement filling her chest.
But not for the party her mother was so excited about.
The meeting with Mr. Walker and her boss was today. She hoped the job offer had a good-sized promotion, because she wanted a legit excuse to bow out of Pearson’s offer.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Pearson,” she wanted to say, “but my current company is offering a sizable promotion, and it plays to my skill set exactly. I wish you luck in finding a new assistant.”
Because, she thought, that bastard’s going to need it.
Mistress of his life, indeed.
A knock sounded on her bedroom door and her sister walked in, not waiting for Chrissy’s response. “Hey, you up?” She paused. “You’re decent, right?”
“When did that ever stop you?” Chrissy wondered what her sister would say if a guy was in her bed. A man like Saks.
“Hah,” Gloria said, flouncing toward the bed with a garment bag slung over her shoulder.
“What’s that?” Chrissy asked with suspicion.
“Mom’s latest creation for you.”
“Oh no,” Chrissy groaned.
“Yeah, she worried you didn’t have something feminine enough to meet the Rocco man.”
“Please no,” she moaned.
“Stop sounding like you’re in pain. It’s quite pretty, actually.” Gloria drew the dress out of bag and hooked it on Chrissy’s closet door.
Chrissy blinked and rubbed her eyes. Okay. It was pretty. The top was a navy scalloped lace overlaying a fitted cream bodice, and the flared skirt was cream with a lace print that matched the lace on the bodice. But it was wholly inappropriate for a party at a dive bar like the Red Bull. She was planning on wearing a cardigan and her jeans. “You know I can’t wear that at the Red Bull.”
“I know it. But I had to deliver it, otherwise she wouldn’t start working on my wedding dress.”
“Wait? Did Marcus ask you?”
“No. But it takes months and months to sew a wedding dress, especially with the beading I want. And you’re doing such a good job of driving Marcus crazy that he might ask soon.”
Chrissy supposed that her devious sister already had a date picked out, had spoken with the priest about the church, and had the flowers pre-ordered and the baker on notice about what cake she wanted, too. All because Chrissy was driving Marcus crazy? She wondered how that worked.
“Me? How am I driving Marcus crazy?”
“Oh, I might have dropped some hints that you’re tired of being single, and look at this as an opportunity to marry. And that Papa would most likely look on the man as the son he never had.”
“You’re an evil, evil woman.”
“Yes,” Gloria said slyly. “I am.”
“I’m still not wearing that.”
“I know. Still, it’d make a nice cocktail dress should the opportunity present itself.”
“I’m pretty sure a Rocco man isn’t into cocktail parties.”
“What? Do you think they’re all knuckle-dragging Neanderthals?”
“Who said Neanderthals dragged their knuckles? I heard Neanderthals were quite cultured—for their time.”
“I see.” Gloria didn’t look like she did at all.
“We can’t expect a Rocco man to rise to that level of sophistication.”
“You’re such a snob.”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Chrissy said with mock snootiness, “I have another function to go to before the Rocco fiasco.”
“What?” Gloria said. “What is it?”
“Not telling.” It was her turn to be sly. “Now, scoot! Big sis has to get ready.”
CHRISSY FOLLOWED A maid dressed in a grey uniform to the patio where Drummond and Richard sat a table set with a lunch service. They had drinks in front of them, and Drummond motioned for Chrissy to sit.
“Good to see you, Chrissy.”
“Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Drummond.”
He texted something in his phone and looked up. “Lunch should be here shortly. I hope you brought your bathing suit.”
“I did.”
“Fantastic! After lunch, we’ll take a swim if you’d like, and t
hen a sauna.”
She studied the Google map on her laptop last night and found it would take her at least an hour to get here and another to drive back. She had to be back to West Haven by five to get ready and then drive to the Red Bull, but this meeting complete with lunch, swim, and sauna could take all afternoon. And Chrissy only had three hours to discuss business before she had to leave.
She hoped it was going to be a quick lunch.
She was dreaming.
Drummond and Richard talked about everything other than business: sports, the stock market, even foreign politics, as they dawdled over lunch, but didn’t make any kind of suggestion as to why Chrissy was there in the first place. She laughed at their jokes, made a couple pithy observations, but all in all she seemed more like fly on the wall instead of an invited guest. Finally, Drummond suggested a swim while Richard begged off.
Suddenly Chrissy didn’t feel right about the situation. Whatever was going on, it didn’t seem to have anything to do with her position in the company.
But Richard had said Drummond discussed business in the sauna. So, she put on her swimsuit and slid into the heated pool. It was still early spring, and much too early to be swimming, but the warm water took the edge off the cool of the day.
Drummond swam toward her. For an older man he was very well built, and Chrissy reflected that he must spend time in the gym to keep in such good shape. “I’m glad I hired you,” he said. He moved so that the sun was behind him and Chrissy winced at the glare.
“I’m glad you did, too,” she said with a smile, putting up a hand to block the light of the sun. “I’ve enjoyed working at the firm.”
“You’re smart. I appreciate that. And you have a level head on your shoulders. And you’re savvy. Richard’s not the easiest man to work with, but I haven’t heard one complaint from you.”
“I’m just doing my job.”
“You have a passion for what you do. I appreciate that, too.”
“I like to think that I contribute to the best of my ability.” It felt stupid talking about work while sitting in a pool. It all felt wrong. She tried to ignore the feeling.
