“Everyone doing okay?” I ask.
The looks I receive in return are weird. It’s hard to put my finger on it, but something’s not right. The guy stifles a laugh before he says, “I’ll have another vodka tonic, please.” Meanwhile, the woman is on her phone, holding up a finger to signal me she’ll just be a second.
As I wait, the guy says, “So how are you this morning? Do anything fun last night?”
Before I can consider answering, the phone sitting on the table lights up and I see a text screen. I can only see four short texts, but they freeze my blood.
You: You’re late. You fuck tattoo girl last night?
Maddox: No, I didn’t.
You: LOL That means you owe us 30 grand. A bet’s a bet.
Maddox: Whatever. I’ll find u later.
Forgetting all about the woman’s drink order, I turn back toward the bar. Halfway there, I pass the other guy, the owner of the phone. He gives me a strange smile and I run the rest of the way, ducking through the kitchen doors into the back. Scarlett must have seen me because she’s there immediately.
“What’s wrong?”
I can’t speak because I’m suddenly wracked with gigantic sobs.
I gave Maddox the most sacred part of me: my trust. And it was all for a bet?
Sleeping with me was a bet?
Scarlett wraps me up in a hug and I cry my eyes out on her shoulder until Max shows up.
“What the hell are you doing? There are customers out there.”
“Back the fuck off, Max!” Scarlett shouts in the meanest voice I’ve ever heard from her.
She sounds so vitriolic that Max timidly backs up a few feet.
“Well, hurry it up,” he says as he leaves.
I only have time to tell Scarlett about the texts, but she can see the effect it’s having on my emotions. “We’ll talk it over later,” she says calmly, running a hand through my hair. “For now, we’ll switch sections. Don’t go back to that table.”
The plan works for a while. I’m a fucking zombie and running on autopilot, and every time I look in the direction of that table I get pissed off and hurt and humiliated all over again. Eventually the two men and the woman leave, but that doesn’t change my mood.
What the actual fuck? How could I have been so stupid?
Maddox has “player” written all over him. How did I not see that?
With only two hours left before the end of my shift, I start to think I’ll survive. Then I can go home and drink and begin once again to try to convince myself that not all men are assholes.
But the truth is, they are. Every fucking one of them. Even Maddox Ramsey.
I’m standing at the bar waiting for Mike to fill a drink order when Scarlett is suddenly at my side.
“Trust me on this, Tempest. Leave your tray and head straight to the break room for twenty minutes. Do not turn around. I’ll cover your tables.”
What the hell is going on? Of course I have to turn and look if she tells me not to.
That’s when I see him.
Maddox.
Smiling at me like the cat who ate the canary.
I head towards him and Scarlett’s arms are immediately around me. I break her grip and steam across the floor.
“You sorry motherfucker!” I scream, getting the instant attention of everyone in the bar.
Maddox looks confused, but before he can even utter a word I’m there in front of him. What was originally meant to be a vicious slap turns into a half-slap, half-punch as I haul off and whack him on his right cheek bone. As his head spins, I bring the top of my foot up hard, kicking him squarely in the balls.
He releases a sound like I’ve never heard a man make, then doubles over. I’m about ready to slap-punch him again when Scarlett and Lila both grab me and pull me away. Mike the bartender is there to get in between me and Maddox, and Max shows up, yells at me that I’m fired, and immediately starts sucking up to Maddox.
I don’t care about starting a scene. I don’t care about losing my job. I tell myself I don’t even give a shit about Maddox, although the tightness in my chest let’s me know I’m lying.
So that’s how my Friday afternoon went.
I’ve had better.
11
Maddox
In the past thirty minutes I’ve gotten four calls—FOUR!— from the Millennium staff apologizing for what happened in the LBD. They’re going to comp me for the suite for the entire week, and anything I eat or drink will also be complimentary. If I want tickets to any show in town, don’t hesitate to ask. And there’s a $100,000 tray of chips in the casino with my name on it in case I want to do a bit of gambling.
Somebody doesn’t want a lawsuit.
Alone in my suite, I hold the ice pack against my cheek for a while before putting it back between my legs.
Tempest is the perfect name for that woman. I’ve been in a few fights in my time, but don’t recall anyone ever getting off two quick strikes before I even knew I’d been hit.
And fuck if that doesn’t make me like her more.
Now if I can just figure out why she suddenly hates me. I’ve been wracking my brain, but I can’t imagine what could have happened between this morning when she left my suite and this afternoon when I walked into the bar.
Whatever it is, though, I need to find out. I’m not ready to let Tempest punch her way out of my life. At the moment, my balls disagree with me, but they’ll get over it. They were certainly fond of her last night and the night before.
I remember when I walked into the LBD, that redheaded chick with the big tits saw me and immediately strutted over to Tempest at the bar and said something. And when Tempest’s head spun around, there was fire in her eyes.
Big Red definitely knows what’s going on.
I gingerly walk to the desk and grab the phone.
“Little Black Dress, can I help you?” It’s a guy.
“Yeah, this is Maddox Ramsey, the guy who was assaulted by your employee a little while ago—”
“Mr. Ramsey, this is Max Donatello, the club’s manager. I am so sorry about what happened. That employee has been dismissed and we’re prepared to—”
“I need to speak to the red-headed cocktail waitress. Cute, very curvy.”
“Um, Mr. Ramsey, I don’t think—”
“Put her on the phone or I’ll sue your club so fast your head will spin.”
A few seconds later, a woman comes on the line.
“This is Scarlett.”
“Scarlett, this is Maddox Ramsey. You and I need to talk. Tell this Max guy you’re doing damage control and come up to the Millennium Presidential Suite right away. I think I might be in love with your friend.”
There’s a moment of silence, then she says, “Okay. I’ll be right there.”
Less than ten minutes pass before the bell rings. Setting my ice bag aside, I limp to the elevator. I politely let in the pretty redhead who is giving me a defiant face.
I immediately get down to business.
“Look, Scarlett, Tempest stayed with me last night, and it was the most romantic, magical, physically gratifying night of my entire life. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her, though I’m far from an expert in these things. Just as important, when she left this morning, I was under the distinct impression she felt the same.”
I do my best to look more wounded than determined. “What happened this morning to make her hate me? Something tells me you know.”
She takes a deep breath. “She saw some texts on your friend’s phone. About the bet.”
My brain freezes up.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
This is not good. How the hell did this happen?
“You and Tempest are close?” I ask.
Scarlett nods.
“That stupid bet was made minutes after I met Tempest, because she shot me down when I hit on her. Everything that happened after that was honest and real and incredible. I understand that this my own fucking mess, but I do want you to kno
w that this was all a mistake.”
The redhead waits. I’m pretty sure I haven’t convinced her I’m a prince.
“And yeah, I love her. So there’s that.”
Oh, great. Tears.
I swear to God I will never completely understand women.
I put my hands gently on her shoulders, careful not to seem creepy.
“Scarlett, I promise you I won’t hurt Tempest. One day, you will see me as a good guy, I swear. For now, though, I have some planning to do.”
When she’s gone, I take a long shower. That’s when I generally do my best thinking. Not today, though, because I get a hard-on every time Tempest pops into my mind. Since I came four times last night, you’d think my dick would want a nap. But there’s something about that woman that excites me mentally, emotionally, and physically on a level I’ve never known before.
Now I just need to get her back.
I go down the Little Black Dress and talk to that Max guy. I can’t let him fire Tempest. I get him to agree when I convince him the whole thing was my fault and that if he hires her back, I won’t file a lawsuit against the club, the hotel, or him personally.
That’s when my brilliant idea pops into my brain.
“One more thing,” I say. “I know this is probably against regulations, but I need Scarlett’s phone number.”
He only looks resistant until I slide a hundred-dollar bill across the bar to him.
Once I have the number, the rest is up to me.
Right now, though, I have to get back to my suite. I have a conference-closing speech to deliver tomorrow at 11 a.m. and I’ve barely started writing it.
Saturday
12
Tempest
What a weird-ass morning.
First Max called me at 9 a.m. to tell me I’m not fired after all. I got a small lecture about tardiness and never hitting a customer again, but that’s it.
If that wasn’t strange enough, Scarlett called an hour later and said I needed to cover Delilah’s shift starting at eleven today. Max is always the one who calls with scheduling stuff, but maybe he didn’t want to talk to me again.
So anyway, Saturday is supposed to be my day off. I was planning on sitting around watching bad TV and eating Ben and Jerry’s. Instead, I’ll be going back to the scene of the crime.
Maybe it’s better this way. I need something to distract me because I’m fucking livid about Maddox.
No matter how furious I get, the pain of never seeing him again, never being naked with him again, creeps into my brain to compete against the anger. The result is that by the time I get to the Millennium, I’m just a big, blank nothing, devoid of feelings and emotionally vacant.
When I pull into the employee parking lot, I’m surprised to see Scarlett standing next to her car.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as I close my door.
She meets me and slips her arm into mine, guiding me away from the club’s employee entrance.
“Come with me,” she says.
“I have to work. Max might fire me all over again if I’m late.”
“Don’t worry about Max or your job. You’re not really working today. I lied.”
I stop walking. “What the hell is going on, Scarlett? I’m not in the mood to play games. I’ve been through a lot lately.”
“I know, sweetie. You’ll just have to trust me on this one.”
My eyes narrow. Of course I trust her, she’s my best friend. But this shit is getting weird and I don’t need weirdness in my life today.
“Trust me, Tempest. I know how broken-hearted you must be. And probably pissed off as hell, too. I promise you’ll feel a lot better soon.”
She walks me around to the front of the hotel and we enter. Is she taking me gambling to distract me? Maybe to lunch? I haven’t a fucking clue.
We cross the lobby and enter the Millennium’s conference center. When I see the signs for Apex-Con, I remember the big tech event is the reason Maddox is here this week. Then I think about his friends and the text messages and that fucking bet and I just want to strangle him with my bare hands.
Of course my brain immediately goes to being in bed with him and how amazing it all was, and the emotions once again cancel each other out and leave me numb.
Scarlett pulls me into the service corridor that runs behind the meeting rooms. I’m getting tired of this, of the mystery, of me getting called to work but then not working, of Maddox Ramsey.
Of everything.
I’m just really fucking tired.
I stop again, digging in my heels and refusing to budge.
“Tell me what all this is about,” I demand.
Scarlett just rolls her eyes at me and grabs my bicep, literally pulling me down the hall. That sexy, curvy body of hers has a distinct weight advantage, and I finally give in and start walking again. Thirty seconds later she stops outside a door, putting her ear against it.
“Okay, look, I want you to promise me something, Tempest: You will stay in this room with me until I say we can leave.”
“What’s going on, Scarlett?” This nonsense is exhausting.
“You’ll see. Just promise me you will stay with me and not leave. I’m your bestie, remember? I’m in your corner.”
“Okay, whatever. I promise.”
She opens the service door and I see we’re at the very back of the hotel’s conference room. It seats nearly a thousand people and is packed. Overflowing, in fact. I’m surprised the Fire Marshall hasn’t been called.
We walk in and stand against the back wall. The crowd is mostly guys, with a few scattered women. Typical tech audience.
Someone is standing at the podium, talking about what a great conference it’s been. The best Apex-Con ever. Blah blah blah.
As he drones on, I’m busy looking around the room and intermittently glaring at Scarlett. Why the hell are we here? What game is she playing?
“Well, I know why you’re all here this morning,” the speaker says. “So without further ado, let’s bring on Apex-Con’s closing speaker. He needs no introduction, but I’ll give him one anyway: Please put your hands together and welcome Maddox Ramsey!”
I look at the front of the room and see him. Glaring at Scarlett again, I walk toward the door. She grabs my wrist and stares me down.
“You promised.”
She’s right, I did. I retake my position next to her and say, “I just want you to know that you’re going to be kissing my ass for a long time for this.”
Scarlett laughs and says, “I seriously doubt that.”
Then I hear his voice. Deep, resonant, authoritative. My body vibrates and hums, and I grow angry with myself for feeling anything other than resentment and anger.
“Thank you all for sticking around. I know closing speeches are the very last event of a conference and most of you are probably ready to get the hell out of Vegas before you lose any more money.”
The crowd laughs.
“I promise you this will be worth your while. For better or worse, they’ll be talking about this closing speech at Apex-Cons for the next decade.”
I feel a sudden urge to kiss him, to feel his lips against mine, our tongues playing as my problems all melt away.
Then I remember that Maddox Ramsey is my problem.
Instantly, I want to punch him again.
13
Maddox
I quickly scan the room, like I’ve been doing regularly for the last twenty minutes. There’s a shitload of people here. Scarlett’s red hair should make them a little easier to spot, but so far, I’ve come up empty. I’ve been up here yapping away at the podium now for ten minutes, but I can only stall so long.
“Now let’s talk about risk versus reward. The first thing a smart investor will do when considering putting large sums of money into something is to pull up a blank spreadsheet page and start putting risks on one side and rewards on the other.”
Another scan of the room, trying not to look anxious. Truth is, I’m
nervous as fuck.
“In the case of tech investing, you’ll have mostly monetary figures in both columns. Total them up and you get your risk-to-reward ratio. If it’s positive enough, you can comfortably jump. If that number is negative, though, you’ll probably want to think twice.”
Shit. Where the hell are they?
“As you continue to appraise your potential investment, chances are new variables will enter the picture, and you’ll have to examine them to see how they affect your risk-to-reward ratio. Your job as an investor is to look at a situation, identify any variables at play, then determine whether the possible reward is worth the risk you run if the investment doesn’t pan out. I once backed out of a huge deal to acquire a startup when I discovered they hadn’t bothered to patent their invention.”
That gets a small laugh. Right as I open my mouth to speak again, I hear a loud cough from the back of the room.
Looking in that direction, I see Scarlett.
And right next to her, Tempest.
My heart jumps at the sight. I’m going to owe that redhead a gigantic favor. I quickly look away before Tempest knows I’ve seen them.
“There’s no way around it,” I continue. “The biggest rewards you’ll ever be presented in life will require the biggest risks. But the assessment process remains the same: Compare your potential risk to the potential reward and keep factoring in new variables as the show up.”
Now’s the time to seal this deal.
“Allow me to give you a rather unorthodox demonstration…”
I look to the back of the room.
“Tempest Morrison, would you please come to the podium?”
Even from across this big room, I see a multitude of emotions on her face. Outright ire seems to be the most prominent. Can’t say I blame her, though.
Tempest crosses her arms and refuses to budge. People start to look around the room.
If she doesn’t get up here, this whole thing falls apart. And I don’t really have a speech, per se, so I’ll be in deep trouble.
His Hurricane (The Cocktail Girls) Page 6
