Dirty Deeds

by Lauren Landish

  “Yeah, well . . .” Mindy says, sighing. “You be safe, okay? And I’m calling you Monday. You can tell me about your new job. I love you, Roxy.”

  “Love you too, Mindy. Bye.”

  After Mindy hangs up, I let out a deep sigh. It was nice talking to my sister, but damn, I’ve got a lot on my plate. Having a new boss coming in is stressing me a little. I was finally getting used to things. But now, I’m going to have this Jake Stone nightmare in the back of my mind.

  I pick up Jake’s driver’s license from the table and stare at it before I set it down on the table and sigh, getting up. “He’s handsome, isn't he, Mr. Felix?” I ask.

  Mr. Felix does nothing, practically glaring at me. He probably wants the darkness, and I’m keeping him from his beauty sleep.

  I chuckle, walking over to the light switch to get ready for bed. Tonight may have been a nightmare, but something tells me my dreams are gonna be anything but. Just as I flick the switch, I see his ID on the table again and blow it a little kiss. “Goodnight. See you in my dreams.”

  Jake

  Walking down the hallway from the elevator to the front door of my new penthouse, I lean against the wall, blinking and taking deep breaths. Whatever was in that beer, not only did it come on hard, but it’s hanging around like a monkey on my back. Nathan wanted to follow me up and help me, but I’m too damn prideful for that.

  I finally get inside and collapse into my living room chair, groaning and sitting back. At least now that I’m sitting, I can think a little easier. Besides being drugged and robbed blind, the grand opening of Club Jasmine was an overwhelming success. Everyone had a blast. I don’t know any exact numbers, but we had to bring in well over six figures. Of course, that’s not profit, but it was a good opening night.

  “You look like shit,” says a familiar voice, and with effort, I turn my four hundred-pound head with the nails stuck in it to see my sister, Sophie, standing against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed, eyeing me critically. The penthouse is a large open room, with floor-to-ceiling windows that span the entire length of the main room, giving a breathtaking view of the skyline. Honestly, I’m still getting used to it and slowly breaking in the furniture, but I like it.

  “Why are you still up?” I ask, deflecting. I can't argue with her. I do look like shit. My shirt is rumpled and ripped from where Roxy tore it off, and my eyes are probably bloodshot red. “You were supposed to be in bed hours ago.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she asks, her luminous brown eyes gazing at me incredulously. “It's the weekend. If anything, I should have been out at Club Jasmine jamming with my friends.”

  “No, you shouldn't. We talked about this already. You and your friends are too young,” I half groan, not wanting to go into this right now.

  “So? I'm sure you got into clubs when you were sixteen.”

  “But you're not me and that was a mistake. I'm going to make sure you don't make the same ones,” I remind her for what has to be the thousandth time. I’ll give this to my sister—she’s about as stubborn as I was at her age.

  Sophie rolls her eyes at me. “Whatever. You could’ve at least brought me back one of the signature drinks as a gift. That Little Mermaid drink on the menu looks so delicious.”

  I hide a grin. The Little Mermaid, a sea blue drink with tropical notes, also contains a huge shot of triple sec and rum and could probably put Sophie on her ass with one glass. I came up with the name as pun for Nathan, who likes it. I think about Sophie’s request for a second, then shake my head slowly. “No can do. I don't want you to turn into a full-blown alcoholic because the drinks are just that good. If you’re good, I might let you have a sip for your next birthday. That means grades as well as behavior, by the way.”

  Sophie sticks her tongue out at me. “Thanks, Dad,” she says sarcastically.

  Instead of pushing the point, surprisingly, Sophie changes the subject. “I saw you guys on the news,” she says.

  “Did you?” I heave myself out of the chair and walk over to her, shrugging off my suit jacket and setting it down on the kitchen barstool.

  She nods. “The club looked totally ah-mazing. There were A-listers everywhere, including some delicious man candy. Nathan looked hella fine.” A dreamy expression comes over her face, and I feel like I have to nip this in the bud. I like Nathan—he’s my boy—but there’s no fucking way in hell I’m letting him near Sophie.

  “Nathan is too old for you,” I remind her, “and he has a new girlfriend every other week. He found a new one tonight.”

  Sophie makes a face. She’s not listening again. “Yeah. Because he's hot.”

  “I’ll let others be the judge of that, but if you ask me, it's because he has money. If you have a million bucks in the bank, you can buy yourself a ten. Nathan knows that better than anyone. Some people think money can buy you almost anything.”

  Except happiness, I think inwardly.

  “Besides, the dude is like the same size as you. Do you want a man that you have to tuck into bed every night?”

  Sophie flushes. “Um, no. Of course not.”

  “Okay then. If you’re gonna go for a guy, make sure he’s at least a foot taller than you.” I really don’t care or think it matters, the height of a man, but I just want her to stop with this Nathan shit.

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind having a man buy me things. You’re right about that,” says Sophie, forgetting about Nathan. “I want a boyfriend with money. All the guys at my school will never have anything.”

  “That's a horrible quality to look for in a guy,” I tell her, trying not to get angry. I remind myself that she’s a teenager, and that’s basically another word for ignorantly immature sometimes. “Money isn't everything.”

  “You just said that money can buy you almost anything and now you're telling me it isn’t everything. Which one is it?”

  “I said some people think that. I didn’t say it was right. Sophie, it's what's in a guy’s heart that counts,” I tell her. “You can find a man who will buy you the world. But it doesn't mean a damn thing if he doesn’t really care about you.”

  Sophie’s expression softens. “That sounds sweet and all. But if a dude bought me a hot red Ferrari, I think I'd be pretty damn happy.”

  I chuckle, heading into the kitchen. I can’t really argue with that, especially with a sixteen year old. I fill a glass from the tap and drain it. It has to help in flushing this drug out of my system. “You really don’t need to be thinking about boys right now, though,” I say.

  This silences Sophie, and I have to wonder if that means she’s already got a boyfriend. I don’t want to smother her, so I’m just going to forget about it for now. I’m her big brother, and while I take raising her very seriously, I’m not Dad.

  I walk over to the couch and almost stumble, having to grab ahold of it to prevent myself from falling flat on my face.

  Sophie is at my side in an instant. “Are you all right?” Concern laces her words. It’s the one thing I have to give Sophie. I might annoy her and piss her off with my rules, but she doesn't want to see me hurt. She even tries to pamper me some. I’ve come home from a late night at work to find her curled up on the couch, a homemade dinner sitting on the stove, and a note for me propped on top.

  “I’m fine,” I say gently, brushing her aside. “Just tired.”

  Sophie walks over in front of me and crosses her arms, staring at me suspiciously. “Something happened tonight, didn't it? I’ve seen you be out later and come home looking a lot better than this. You look like something the cat dragged in.”

  I nod. “The grand opening was a major success. Nathan and I are both pleased.”

  Sophie scowls. “No, don’t even try it.” She gestures at me. “Look at you. Your shirt looks like you got into a fight with Wolverine.” She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen you come home like this before.”

  I think about denying more, then change my mind. “Something was in one of the drinks I had. It messed me up pretty
good. Nathan’s double-checking the video with the security guys to see if it was intentional,” I tell her. It’s enough of the truth to satisfy her, but she doesn’t need to know all the details.

  “Jesus, Jake, are you okay?” Sophie asks, sitting down next to me. “Should you go get checked out at the hospital?”

  “No, I’m fine,” I reassure her. “Just a little sluggish. I’ll be as good as new in the morning, trust me.”

  “Still . . .” Sophie says, going quiet. She curls up against me, putting her head on my chest, and I adjust, sliding an arm around her shoulders and squeezing. Maybe it’s the club, maybe it’s the drug in my drink, but I don’t mind it right now. I can use a little bit of reassurance that I’m doing the right thing by her.

  “I know,” I whisper quietly. “I miss them too.”

  “I miss them so much,” Sophie says, her voice thick, and if I could turn my head again, I know she’d be crying softly. Instead, I hug her and kiss the top of her head.

  “Sophie, I know I’ll never replace Dad, but bear with me. I’m kinda learning this parenting shit on the fly, you know? But that’s why I was so harsh earlier. I don’t care about money, and I don’t want you to either. You want that red Ferrari? You graduate college and I’ll get you one. I’d rather you actually fall in love with the man, not with his bank account. You can marry the garbage man for all I care.”

  Sophie hugs me tighter. “There’s nobody better than my big brother.”

  “Yeah, well, I love you too,” I reassure her.

  We sit there like that for a few moments before my phone buzzes and I fish it out of my pocket. “It’s Nathan.”

  Sophie grumbles but gets up. “I’ll let you guys talk then,” she says. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I give her a smile and a nod. “Yo, Nathan,” I answer the phone. “You realize what time it is?”

  “Hey, man, this night was crazy!” Nathan says, still buzzing off adrenalin. “I can't believe what happened. We’ll keep an eye out for both, but that dude is done if he comes back.”

  “Thanks,” I reassure him. “Is that all?”

  “Nah, man. Other than your deal, the club opening was as good as we could’ve imagined. We’re going to make millions by next year, just wait and see. I already have three more bands lined up.”

  I stare at my phone, still wondering why the hell Nathan’s calling. “Nathan, couldn’t this wait until morning?”

  “Yeah, I guess. I’m just excited.” Nathan says, slightly chagrined. “Yo, man, about the girl . . . we kinda lost her. She walked out with a friend, but we’re gonna keep working on it.”

  I nod to myself. Roxy . . . if only I could talk to her again to clear this up. “Don’t worry about her. I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding. The guy is more of a concern. If he did that at our club, you can guarantee he’s doing it elsewhere too.”

  “Okay, man, just . . . get some sleep. I just want you to know, this club . . . it’s our rocket to the moon, baby. Rest easy.”

  “You too. Goodnight,” I say, hanging up on him and lying back. I’m pretty sure I’m asleep before I even hit the couch cushion.

  Roxy

  I'm a ball of nerves when I arrive at work Monday. It took me until nearly midnight last night to relax. Every time I heard a car outside on the street, I swore it was the cops ready to drag me off to jail. Eventually, Hannah got me to relax, but I still had to give myself some serious self-love to be able to get to sleep.

  I’ve done pretty good with it so far since I got to work. I was even able to eat some breakfast after Hannah gave me a pep talk. I just need to focus on today. I don’t want to look like an idiot the first day I meet my new boss.

  But still, as I check on the second floor for interoffice mail, I can’t stop thinking about him. How his lips felt against me. His hard body pressed into mine. The feeling of grinding on him, even if he was still inside his pants. It was . . . heartstopping.

  I brush my desires and troublesome thoughts away as I take a deep breath and step off the elevator with a stack of papers in my hand, adjusting my black skirt with my right hand before making my way across the floor to my work area. Our office is at the top of a high-rise building downtown and has been around for decades. The floor plan isn’t my favorite, an open floor with cubicles that make me feel like either I’m constantly running a maze or that the agents are going to show up to arrest me for talking to Morpheus.

  The board room is down the hall, past the coffee room and bathrooms, while along three of the walls are several glass offices for the higher-ups. Along the far back wall are three mostly unused meeting rooms, what a lot of us ‘cubey cats’ call the firing room, since the executives never fire someone in their own offices and they don’t like giving out pink slips in public.

  “Here are the papers Byron wanted,” I say, bending over to place the stack on my co-worker, Matt Brown’s, desk. I don’t want to. I know he’s getting a decent view down my blouse, but I have to or else I’m going to lose the rest of my stuff all over the place.

  Matt glances up from his laptop, raising his eyebrows, his widow’s peak going back on his head, making him look like the old young version of Eddie Munster. He’s tall and skinny, with pale reddish hair and brown eyes.

  I expect him to at least give me a thank you. You know, tell me how grateful he is about having me run down to the mail room to get his shit for him. Instead, he sighs. “Damn, Rox, took you long enough.” He looks at me critically, up and down. “You get some decent makeup yet?”

  He’s subtly insinuating that I’m starting to sag and look older, which makes me want to laugh. I might have a stress wrinkle or two, but it’s nowhere near what his baggy hound dog eyes have hanging under them. I grit my teeth but I don’t snap back. He’s always picking at me, trying to get under my skin, so I’m not taking the bait. Besides, I know I look good. I’m a fabulous bitch. Or I’d better be, given how long I spent in the mirror this morning. Matt’s probably jealous he can't pull off the skirt, blouse, and heels I’m wearing.

  I laugh, not letting him know he gets on my last nerve. He’s really the only one here whom I dislike. “Let’s not, Matthew. I’m trying to be nice today.” I’m not gonna tell you about how I want to take that tie and choke you with it, I think inwardly. Maybe hang you from the window as a warning to all those who try to fuck with me—run away as fast as you can.

  “Let’s not what?” he asks, hiding his smirk. “I was just asking you a question. How was your weekend?”

  He knows damn well what he meant, but I’m not going to entertain him. “It was good. Stopped a few hearts, broke a few necks, and stomped a few balls. Ya know, the usual.”

  He leans back in his chair, chuckling. “You know what, Roxy? I like you. Maybe we should hang out sometime. Have a few drinks after work?”

  No way in hell. I’d rather take the Devil out for drinks. He’d only want me around to get drunk and then have the freedom to make me the punchline of his jokes.

  “Sorry, got plans,” I say politely. I can't resist getting a little twist in, though, and add cheerfully, “Although I have a friend named Brad who you’d absolutely fall in love with.”

  Matt arches an eyebrow. “Brad?”

  I nod. “Mmmhmm. He’s tall, blond, blue-eyed, and he can drop his ass to the floor like you’ve never seen, then work it back up nice and slowly until you’re throbbing in your pants.”

  Matt laughs nervously. “Hey, what are you trying to say?”

  Before I can reply, Byron Smith, one of the top level executives, walks over. His tie is loose around his neck, and his combed-over greying hair gives him sort of a cloudy appearance. He’s tall, and despite his skinny neck, he’s got a big potbelly that’s almost cartoonish over his chicken legs. I have no idea why he hangs around Matt. There’s a huge gap in age, and Byron’s duties have nothing to do with me or Matt. But when the two get together, it’s like two grade schoolers. I swear they’ve swapped fart jokes sometime over the pas
t year.

  “Hey, Matt,” Byron says, grinning foolishly. “Have you heard about the new computer password system?”

  “No, what about it?” Matt asks, and I roll my eyes. I’ve heard this one before.

  “Well, we have to put in new passwords,” Byron says. “Tom down the hall went in and decided that his new password would be Tomspenis. He puts it in, and you won’t believe what the computer told him.”

  “What?” Matt asks, grinning.

  “It said Try again. Tomspenis is not long enough.”

  I try not to roll my eyes or to turn it around on them. Instead, I just gather up my stuff. “That’s my cue to get back to work,” I say. “Talk to you later.”

  I leave the two to continue their weird bromance. Their relationship just confounds me.

  I walk through the maze and around the corner to my cubicle, glad to have my own little space that I’ve personalized a little. My heels are muted against the tough industrial-grade carpet, and more than once, I’ve considered ditching them for flats, except that the company does have visitors who expect them. I open my computer and login to my desktop, getting ready for the day. Franklin Consolidated was one of the first companies to build this city, and despite being bought in a corporate takeover, it still has prestige. We’re in some of the top floors of our high-rise, and the view out the windows in the break room are breathtaking. Overall, despite it being corporate drudgery, I could be doing a lot worse. Besides dealing with Matt’s bullshit, this place isn’t that bad.

  I’m not gonna let that dickhead get me down. I figure I’ll get another promotion soon and move out of this cube-farm and into the outer ring offices, and then I won’t have to deal with him. Really, I’m just nervous about this new Regional President. It’s been hush-hush about who he is, the corporation that bought Franklin Consolidated keeping things quiet. It’s like they want it to be some sort of national security top secret or something. That, combined with knowing I still have Jake’s wallet, is making me a big ball of butterflies.